Bourdain be not proud

Luckily, the opportunity to sample the local dish of wild game meat-- tatoo -- passed me by.

The smell in the kitchen was divine -- all garlic and seasoning peppers and thyme. But the idea of putting a bite of this ugly little creature in my mouth was beyond my ability.

However, you should know I was prepared to. I wanted to experience all the food and life different than my own. But we took a bus into town instead and I was gone for most of the preparation and the consuming. Praise the Lord and pass the peanut butter. Whew.

I do still have a bit longer here though. If it comes my way, I shall meditate on the fearless foodie, Anthony Bourdain, and put my superhero cape on and have a bite. Maybe even two.

Lovely and beautiful with a slight chance of quirk

Nutmeg ice cream: Brilliant.

Nutmeg salad dressing: Swoon. (This I believe I can recreate, so never fear the food-lovers in my life.)

Christmas eve: 11:45 p.m. walking through St. George's looking for a bus when a small car picks us up. Man driving takes his hand off the wheel every few seconds to dance to Christmas music playing in his car. His partner, a man I would guess in his late 80's early 90's, clearly drunk off of rum and season cheer, sings the words he can remember.

Water on the bus ride home (clarification: bus here means a Volkswagen mini-van made to seat 12 comfortably. Not the case in this country. Here it can seat up to 19. The adverb comfortably left out.)

Christmas is a party here. Literally. Christmas night we went to a dance hall complete with bar and Soca band. In the basement of the local Catholic Church whose crosses were cut in half by Hurricane Ivan in 2006. The concrete and granite crosses still remain at the top, just severed from their perch.

It's a strange and lovely time of year here. If today wasn't an official holiday and busses were running, I'd head out in search of some more nutmeg ice cream.

Christmas Eve Morning

Started morning with fresh hot tea: blades of lemongrass mixed with slivers of ginger--all boiling in a pot.

Shortly after a walk down the road where a lost goat with newly-sprouted horns grazed by the side. Frootloops littered one portion of the walk--a clear indication of excited children playing out front. 

A few feet later, I meet the beekeper. With cutlass in hand, he skims down the side of bushy hill as if the steep slope and loose dirt are as solid and sturdy as flat pavement.

At the end of the street live Beekeeper's father who, in his greying dredlooks and permanent smile, make the whole world, just for a moment, seem genuine and happy.

Airports

Grenada, by far, is home to my favorite airport. Last night, upon arrival, i wasbgreeted at the arrival gate with a rum drink specail to the island: Sorrel. this drink makes an appearance once a year to celebrate the holiday season.

So far, every time I have traveled here, I've been greeted after 30+ hours of travel with some specialty rum. I'm not yet able to describe the relief and joy this has on a weary travler's spirit.

One Saturday, my editor at the time was arriving too late to come in and finish (or even begin is most likely the case) the weekly Sunday editorial. This was years and years ago when blogging was only just beginning and the first rounds of the mobile device, the Blackberry, had arrived on the scene. Yet, the next morning I read one of the wittiest and sharpest observation pieces he had ever created. Monday morning I asked him about the deadline. "I typed it out on the Blackberry pad. From my cramped coach seat on United, FYI." He wrote a 1,300-word editorial with only his thumbs.

In 2010, I listened to Steve Jobs give the introductory speech introducing the world to the iPad. In this talk, he mentioned how a cover of the New Yorker was created using this device. And then showed the cover to the audience. I gasped in appreciation for this work of art and wished I hadn`t allowed my supscription to The New Yorker run out.

Today, I sit waiting for a plane, admiring the strange large red bunny hanging from the terminal ceiling at the Sacramento Airport. I'm eating blue cheese hot chili fries from Jack's urban eats, and thinking on mobile devices and these two artists who used them for extreme contribution.

For Christmas this year, I received an Acer Iconia tablet--a generous gift from my mother. And now I find myself on a journey to spend Christmas in a foreign country. I'm thinking I should attempt to humbly marry the two and see what comes ...