We arrived in Grenada and anchored in a beautiful bay called Tyrrel Bay, which is also the entry point for the island. Not all marinas are designated entry points, so when you first arrive in a country, you have to go through specific marinas or entry points to complete the necessary paperwork and obtain all the required permits for staying in that country.
We went to the police station, and in a brief conversation with a police officer, we learned that we actually had to go to Hillsborough, the island’s capital, which was about 7-8 km away. We had the option of taking a bus that ran on its own schedule (or as the officer put it, “when it comes”), or, as the officer suggested, we could wait 20 minutes for his shift to end, and he could give us a ride. We chose to wait the 20 minutes, as we had all the time in the world.
The officer was dressed in a full uniform: a dark cap, a light blue shirt with shoulder insignia, dark trousers, and black shoes. He looked to be in his late 20s. We got into his green double-cab pickup truck with “POLICE” written on the side, and we set off for the capital. The windows were rolled down, and some local reggae music was playing… loudly. The road wound through lush, forested hills. Tropical vegetation lined the road, occasionally giving way to glimpses of turquoise lagoons, which our officer-turned-local-guide would then point out as “tourist spots.” He drove slowly; at first, I thought he was just showing us the surroundings, but no… He waved or acknowledged every single person we passed, and if he didn’t see someone right away or if they didn’t notice him immediately, he would slow down almost to a stop, honk the horn, and wave until he received confirmation that they had seen him… fantastic.
We arrived at the police and fire station (they shared the same building, office next to office) and waited for the lunch break to end. After about 20 minutes, the check-in process began. There were 5-6 of us, so we took forms and started filling them out. The completed forms were then taken to a counter where a clerk typed the information into a computer—how else? The woman called my name and said she couldn’t find my country of birth in the computer. I was born in Banja Luka, Bosnia and Herzegovina. She said, “Sir, that doesn’t exist. Are you sure?” I said, “Of course.” After 10 minutes, she turned the monitor towards me, and we searched together. The program looked like something from Windows 3.11 (the one before Windows 95), and it really wasn’t there. We continued the conversation, and I said, “Maybe Yugoslavia?” Her face lit up. “Yes, yes! TITO! TITO!” she exclaimed. “Great country!” she said. “Why didn’t you say so right away?” I explained that the country no longer existed and had dissolved in a war. She made a sad face and said she had heard there had been a war there, but she didn’t realize the country was gone. Everything was then resolved. “Yugoslavia,” she repeated with a sigh, “I wish you a pleasant stay in Grenada and on our island.”
We wandered around the town a bit and then spotted a small group of white people gathered in one place, which was quite unusual. We asked around and learned it was the bus station. I didn’t understand what distinguished this spot from the rest of the street, but we joined the group, hoping for a ride back to Tyrrel Bay soon. Two old Mitsubishi or Toyota vans from the 2000s arrived; I remembered having toy versions of these when I was a kid. We crammed into the second van because the first one was already overflowing. We were packed like sardines on the small, narrow seats of the van, as they always tried to fit in as many people as possible.
We started moving slowly, barely managing to move at all… The engine sounded tired, the van swayed with every curve, some local music was playing, and we continued moving slowly but surely. Needless to say, the sun was at full strength at the equator, heating up the thin metal of this old vehicle that struggled with every uphill stretch. Little by little, uphill after uphill and curve after curve, we finally arrived back at Tyrrel Bay. We went back to the boat to cool off and then to a local bar for lunch to see what they had to offer. The bar was right across from the police station. Tomorrow, we’d explore the island.