{"id":3160,"date":"2011-12-12T06:11:11","date_gmt":"2011-12-12T11:11:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theprofessionalhobo.com\/?p=3160"},"modified":"2024-06-19T07:37:22","modified_gmt":"2024-06-19T11:37:22","slug":"learning-to-be-alone-in-grenada","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theprofessionalhobo.com\/learning-to-be-alone-in-grenada\/","title":{"rendered":"Learning to be Alone in Grenada"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

After coming to Grenada<\/a>, finding myself single, and nursing myself through Dengue Fever<\/a>, I lost a bit of my mojo. My extroverted ways were replaced with an overwhelming desire to do nothing but read books and \u201cplay\u201d on my computer \u2013 writing, watching tv shows, and exploring social relationships from behind the safety net of an internet connection. Perhaps I’m simply learning to be alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This post was originally published in 2011. It has since been updated for accuracy of links and content. <\/em>

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Scared of the World Beyond my Door<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

The world outside my little secluded beach hut seemed very intimidating. \u201cJust be careful; once Grenadian men get news that you’re single, they’ll be very \u2013 VERY \u2013 persistent,\u201d was the first piece of advice I received from a neighbour my age when I told her my initial plans to be here with a partner had changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And she wasn’t the only one to give me a similar lecture. A few females were quick to warn me of friendly men \u2013 even if their initial intentions appear platonic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And in my low physical and emotional state<\/a>, I was tired. The last thing I wanted was to be constantly on-guard against overly-friendly and persistent men (who often carry machetes I might add) while trying to rest and recoup from my adventures and mis-adventures of late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All in all, learning to be alone just seemed easier, so I could hide away in my beach hut for three months.

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Being The Professional Hobo<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

But this overwhelming desire to cocoon wasn’t a guilt-free pleasure. I am, after all, The Professional Hobo<\/a>. Is The Professional Hobo<\/a> allowed to do nothing? Would it not be almost irresponsible or culturally offensive to stay for three months on a tiny Caribbean island nation without venturing more than 10kms from my front door? As much as my seven-day-a-week life of working on the road<\/a> can occasionally wear me down, inner voices remind me I’m living the dreams of many, and I’d better not take it for granted.

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Panic<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

But then, just before I’d go out with the dog, or even go out to the grocery store, I’d be struck with a wave of panic. I didn’t want to run into anybody, or face the inevitable stares I got as the \u201ctoken white girl\u201d in the area, or fend off the sometimes-humourous (but exhausting nonetheless) advances of wannabe suitors<\/a>. I didn’t want to take pictures and further set myself apart as an outsider. I didn’t want to worry about personal security.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I just wanted to stay in my safe little hut and read my book. <\/em>

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Day that Changed Things<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I woke up one morning, deciding to release myself of expectations \u2013 expectations of my own, or perceived expectations of others.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After running the morning errands I was drenched with sweat. Grenadian folklore claims there’s no better cure for what ails than \u201cwettin’ your skin\u201d in the ocean, and I hadn’t been swimming since my episode with Dengue Fever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I scooped up the dog and went for a walk through the mangroves and the woods over to the next bay, where there are reputedly some emerald pools ideal for swimming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The dog knows this walk well, so I didn’t need a leash \u2013 just my key, bathing suit, and sarong.

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Walking Alone<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Even this walk around to the next cove incited fear. This is a really remote area. What if I run into somebody intending to cause me harm? What if I slip and fall? What if something happens while swimming in the ocean? It would take ages for anybody to realize I’m missing and then to come and find me. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even as I forged ahead, this inner chatter constantly reminded me of the one thing I was painfully aware of: that I am alone<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I kept going. Being alone is no reason to stop living. This is a safe island, and I have a loving protective dog with me. There’s nothing to fear. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"the<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Reaching the next beach was my first reward. The white-sand crescent beach was beautiful, and completely isolated. I saw the silhouettes of two people in the distance fishing off the next point; far enough away that I didn’t worry about having to interact, yet close enough that I felt protected in case I needed help. I stripped off my sarong and sat in the clear shallows of the calm ocean bay, enjoying the perfect water temperature and keeping an eye on the dog who was happily sniffing everything in sight on the beach.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"fishermen<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n


Enjoying Paradise Alone<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Without anybody around as a gauge for the passage of time, I wasn’t sure how long I could (or should?) stay in the water. It seemed almost over-indulgent to just sit in the ocean on my own for too long. So after some time (enough time, however long that was), I emerged from the water and kept walking down the beach.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Turning off the beach I headed up an old road towards the next point. Finally reaching the point was glorious; I stood on an impossibly green grassy knoll atop a dramatic point jutting into the sea. On one side was the calm bay in which I just swam, and the other side was a turbulent ocean leading into a bay full of sailboats. Ominous storm clouds hovered above the bay as the wind picked up, and I could see heavy rain coming over the hills.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"the<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Similar to my night in Prague<\/a> I didn’t have my camera (these pictures were taken on a subsequent day), so this dramatic experience was purely and unabashedly mine to absorb as much as I could. I looked around in awe, taking in the the dramatic scenery.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"view<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u201cLooks like we’re getting wet,\u201d I said to the dog. But it was more of an observation than a complaint; I felt no need to find shelter or hurry back since I was still wet from my swim, and I had no hope of making it back in time anyway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I turned from the point and ambled back towards \u201chome\u201d. Just as the rain started to fall lightly, I saw two men with fishing poles coming towards me. My stomach dropped. I didn’t want the dog to cause a stir (as he tends to around people with fishing poles, and I had no leash with me), and even more so I didn’t want to endure their leering stares and an awkward conversation \u2013 or worse – in this very remote place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But my fears were unwarranted. The dog behaved, and all I got from my passers-by was a friendly smile and \u201cGood afternoon\u201d as we kept to our respective trajectories. In fact, I noticed the same cordial head-duck of shyness coming from them that I felt myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In that moment, that one fleeting moment as we were all about to be pummelled with rain, we shared something in common; a love of being out and about on this beautiful island \u2013 rain or shine. Nothing more, nothing less.

<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rain, Glorious Rain<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

As I continued to walk, the inevitable rain came down. Warm, thick droplets splashed on my face, my hair, and eventually fell harder and harder until every part of me was drenched.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I did nothing to quicken my pace, or to find cover, and was simply thankful for not having a camera. Instead, I maintained the same languid pace while I enjoyed the impromptu warm shower, with nowhere in particular to be. Even the dog didn’t seem to mind the rain, as we continued along the abandoned road and listened to the ocean on each side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I retraced my steps along the beach and into the rainforest back towards my cove, the fresh green forest cradled me as the rain made comforting sounds falling onto the thick leaves and foliage.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By this point I was giggling and singing and splashing in the puddles. I had watched many passing storms come through in days and weeks prior as I sat in the dry comfort of my hut, and not once had it occurred to me to go out and experience <\/em>the rain. But here I was, having the time of my life, soaked to the bone, skipping on the beach and through the woods, dancing and singing without a care…like nobody was watching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And in fact, nobody was watching. I was completely alone.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And that is what made it so special.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Editor’s Note: This was written about a month ago, shortly after recovering from the ill effects of a nasty breakup and Dengue Fever. I’m happy to report that my \u201cmojo\u201d is back (!), and I’ve really enjoyed exploring Grenada<\/a> for both its natural wonders as well as its social scene. Going forward you will enjoy a series of posts and videos depicting life in Grenada<\/a> \u2013 a place that is quickly becoming one of my favourites in the world. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And although there’s a degree of being \u201con-guard\u201d against the advances of men in any foreign country (especially as a solo female), I’ve also discovered that 99% of Grenadians are incredibly friendly, and you can have a conversation with just about anybody you pass by. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet one of the beautiful things I also love about Grenada is that it is a quiet island, and I’m living on a quiet little corner of it. Celebrating my own time, and rejoicing in the freedom and introspection of being alone has been truly wonderful. I believe surviving our dark moments<\/a> helps us to appreciate life to its fullest. It seems I am truly leaning to be alone….and love it. <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

After being dealt a few blows on arrival to Grenada, I spent some time recuperating, and learning to be alone on this beautiful island. 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