I owe the Garifuna two apologies. One for allowing google to misspell their name (Garifuni is another version but the 'd' is embarrassing, my error) and two for misjudging them. Today I have seen these Caribbean indigenous village folk for the unique, colourful 'tribe' they actually are. Sweet, very laid back, very, very laid back, and great fun.
Today dawned overcast and drizzly, so on impulse I decided to leave my friends to laze here and leapt on the ' launcho' (boat) to revisit Livingston. Minus the tourists , sunseeking elsewhere, the obvious hawkers from my first visit had vanished. Instead I saw a working fishing village manned and womaned by cheery, patient souls who turned sheltering from the odd rain shower into a party everytime and everywhere, making impromptu music under overhanging roofs, under trees, anywhere. The mood was upbeat, lively and contagious.
The cooler climate was conducive to walking between beaches rather than the previous taxi ride. An hour’s amble took me through beach front villages, ramshackle huts of bamboo and thatch, often open to the elements. Young and old alike sat on the wooden porches or lay contently in hammocks. I admire these people’s ability to do nothing for hours, a knack I simply don't possess but greatly envy.
The beach grew increasingly beautiful as I left the town behind, passing my lunch spot from Monday, until I reached the 'playa del altares' waterfalls... Or what would be waterfalls if this were not the dry season. An elderly Bob Marley lookalike kindly escorted me to the remnants, two stagnant pools and nodded sagely when I declined to swim, simply telling me to rest a while, 'no problem'.
The translucent light cast a hazy spell over the gentle Caribbean seas, the sands ablaze with turquoise blue and orange shells glistening in the lapping shallows. A walk to sooth my soul in this tranquil peaceful place.
Back to find my friends had ordered the primitive sauna to be fired up, so I joined them for another dice with death in the 'pizza oven' cave. Diving into the river afterwards as night fell and swimming in the moonlight a perfect end to a perfect day.
Today dawned overcast and drizzly, so on impulse I decided to leave my friends to laze here and leapt on the ' launcho' (boat) to revisit Livingston. Minus the tourists , sunseeking elsewhere, the obvious hawkers from my first visit had vanished. Instead I saw a working fishing village manned and womaned by cheery, patient souls who turned sheltering from the odd rain shower into a party everytime and everywhere, making impromptu music under overhanging roofs, under trees, anywhere. The mood was upbeat, lively and contagious.
The cooler climate was conducive to walking between beaches rather than the previous taxi ride. An hour’s amble took me through beach front villages, ramshackle huts of bamboo and thatch, often open to the elements. Young and old alike sat on the wooden porches or lay contently in hammocks. I admire these people’s ability to do nothing for hours, a knack I simply don't possess but greatly envy.
The beach grew increasingly beautiful as I left the town behind, passing my lunch spot from Monday, until I reached the 'playa del altares' waterfalls... Or what would be waterfalls if this were not the dry season. An elderly Bob Marley lookalike kindly escorted me to the remnants, two stagnant pools and nodded sagely when I declined to swim, simply telling me to rest a while, 'no problem'.
The translucent light cast a hazy spell over the gentle Caribbean seas, the sands ablaze with turquoise blue and orange shells glistening in the lapping shallows. A walk to sooth my soul in this tranquil peaceful place.
Back to find my friends had ordered the primitive sauna to be fired up, so I joined them for another dice with death in the 'pizza oven' cave. Diving into the river afterwards as night fell and swimming in the moonlight a perfect end to a perfect day.
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