It's the first time I've been back to the Caribbean in double-digit years; it's the first time for Len.
Today, we find ourselves gazing out into the Caribbean Sea, moving a mere 40 mph, but what seemed more like 110 mph. We're in the local bus, they call it. I call it a mini-van - an 8-person mini van converted to hold 14 people.
We jumped on mid-way through the St. George's downtown route. We got the only two remaining seats and those two seats were jump-seats. Len in the front, me in the back, we squeezed in with only the bump-bump-bump of the blaring rap music filling the spaces. When we came to a stop, if the woman in the back wanted to get off, everyone else had to get out of the van so that she could get out of the only side-sliding door. Then, we'd file back in, taking up the same seat as before. Children on parents laps, men carrying metal frames, women carrying plastic bags full of fruit from the market.
Once we reached the downtown area, roads narrowed to single lane spaces. Sharp hairpin turns were only made worse by the steep "San Francisco" like streets. It was Saturday morning - market day - and people were crowding into every empty space, and the 'buses' were dodging them as best they could. It was amazing the melodies created by a van's horn.
More fun facts: The bus's crew is two - the driver and the attendant (watcher, money collector, door closer, signaler). The bus does not leave the downtown terminal unless there are 14 people inside. You will not get off at the same place you get on. If you miss your stop (that would be us), they are kind to let you stay on until they circle back around and they don't charge you extra. They do drive on the left side of the road. Fare is $1.25 for the trip. Best deal on the island.
If you want to be part of the populous of the 110,000 of Grenada, take the local bus. Be a traveler, not a tourist; be immersed in the community. Experience a cheap thrill and feel oddly excited at the tingle of the ride as you fold up your jump seat and hop off for the short walk to the hotel.

Hobo Kitty (lower left) had a litter of kittens almost two months ago. About three weeks later, this little one (right) showed up right along side of her. Since we're in the country and all kind of critters are around, we thought that maybe the others didn't make it. We named the little one Bo, and mama kitty's name, well, we shortened to Ho. Yes, we're bad.
A week later, a jet black one with white socks appeared.
And just yesterday, two more appeared. Both looked to have had bad hair days since birth.
This morning, little Bo's screams led us to the front porch where his hind leg had become tangled in the yarn which Ty left as a toy. Len scooped him up amidst the screams and tantrums (Bo, not Len), and brought him into the house for the first time to operate. Once free from string, Bo took to us nicely, even slept a little while I fretted that in a few moments, I would have to let go. 
I let go and he's back with the three others that have long scampered back underneath the chest on the porch. Bo did look back. In my mind, he said, "Thanks. Let's do the holding part again. It really wasn't so bad." Then, he slipped quietly underneath the chest with the others.
Kind of like mama's do - they let you play at will. They pray that if you get in trouble, there will be someone to scoop you up, fix the boo-boo, and then let you be on your way once more. Soon, you'll  begin to trust those who have been kind to you. You'll remember them fondly and understand where you can live without fear. Open your eyes to all the possibilities and the people in your world. But you'll never forget that mama that made you do and go and be what you never dreamed possible.
"Thanks, mama. Let's do the holding part again, soon."