Less than a day in Petite Martinique and already I’m blogging about it. Unusual for me, but there’s absolutely nothing ‘usual’ about Petite Martinique (by my medium-sized-island-girl standards). Plus, the fact is there’s little else to do at 9:05 on a Thursday night. Already, all doors are closed, lights are off and there is nary a sound to be heard but for the beautiful melody of waves crashing on the shoreline, occasionally interrupted by brief but heavy rain showers hammering down on the galvanize roof of our guest house. #Bliss.
Fact: Everything I knew about Petite Martinique prior to my arrival could fit into one sentence – a poorly constructed sentence littered with hackneyed phrases such as ‘tiny island’ and trite words like ‘seafaring’. Beyond that I couldn’t state one significant detail about this extraordinary dot in the Caribbean archipelago. I just knew I needed to see it for myself.
Before I go any further, I feel obligated to clarify that Petite Martinique is an island in the Grenadines and, along with Carriacou, it is a dependency of Grenada, which in turn is a member of the British Commonwealth. It is not, nor is it any way related to, the island of Martinique, which is an overseas region of France.
At 2.37 square kilometers, Petite Martinique is home to approximately 900 people. Before I made this trip, Carriacou, with it’s 34 square kilometers and 8,000 population was the smallest populated island I had ever visited and I was in awe of its miniature geographic footprint and sparse population. Try as I might I couldn’t imagine what smaller would look like.
Now, after a brief walk that took less than 20 minutes but covered over half of the island’s road system, I can safely say that I know what at least 50% of ‘smaller’ looks like. And it’s pretty awesome. If falling waaaay off the grid and indulging in some serious quiet time are your cup of tea.
Here’s a snapshot of what I’ve learned about Petite Martinique so far…
One primary school (secondary school students take the small ferry to and from Carriacou every day to attend classes).
One post office.
One health clinic.
One main road. That has accommodated more foot traffic than vehicular traffic since we’ve arrived.
Golf carts are as common a mode of transportation as small SUVs and mini vans, but not a single car has been spotted. Yet.
North of the island is considered ‘country’ while the south of the island is considered ‘town’.
WiFi is available at certain locations but there is no data signal. None. At all. In fact, the friendly lady attending to us at Palm Beach Restaurant & Bar asked me what data was and she was shocked when I explained that it allows you to access the internet on your phone, even when you’re not in a WiFi zone.
The island is volcanic so there is no white sand and azure waters but the landscape has a wild, rugged appearance not synonymous with the “Caribbean aesthetic” that I find refreshing and unpretentious.
And…here comes the rain again. I think this time I’ll call it a night and snuggle up with some Netflix until I doze off.
Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings! Cheers!