Weather is here, winds are slight, guess the promised strong winds are still yet to arrive. Maybe late today, the seas and winds will be up. But it's the Caribbean, they'll probably arrive late. Nothing starts on time here anyhow.

Like the Music Fest, they lay out this elaborate schedule, then they throw the clocks away. The main attraction is put on late, say 10pm, but rarely gets going before 2am, kind of frustrating. Of course each band starts later and later, for some reason they think it fashionable to be late, but it's unprofessional. In certain circles, you would be banned. Try playing a gig an hour or two late in Vegas, you'll be run out of town.

Years back, a friend of mine was lucky enough to finally achieve status quo and be offered a month long gig in Las Vegas. His band pooled every cent they could, pawned and sold everything they didn't need, begged, borrowed, stole, you name it, to buy the band a bus. They loaded up the bus with their clothes, and their equipment, and headed cross country for what they thought would be their limelight, the gig that would launch them, put them on the map, get them in the recording studios and so on.

They planned to take turns driving and sleeping on the bus. Occasionally they would stop at a rest area and let the bus engine take a break. They had no money for hotels, and they mostly made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to save money. But it was worth it, as soon they would be living in a nice hotel, playing a steady gig for a solid month and it came with perks, like free buffets and discounted drinks. Late at night, the pools and Jacuzzi's are often full of the musicians and showgirls, a fun late night, wind down party.

I know because once while in Las Vegas, I had grown tired of gambling (imagine that!) and it was 3am and I was wide awake. I put on my bathing suit, tossed on the hotel robe and headed 34 floors down, for the outdoor Jacuzzi. I was all alone. Every few minutes, I had to hop out and push the button to make the Jacuzzi run again, it had this annoyingly short timer on it and you couldn't reach it from the tub.

About the 4th time out to hit the timer, I had just settled back down, when this backdoor burst open and about two dozen drop dead gorgeous bodies came out in teeny tiny G-strings and the women in itsy bitsy tops. Most crowded into the Jacuzzi with me and a few dove into the pool and swam. I found out they had just completed the last show for the night and wanted to work off their aches in the water.

They were as surprised to find me alone in the Jacuzzi, as I was to meet them at this odd hour. Most people are either in bed or gambling at that hour, not sitting in the dark in a Jacuzzi. A half hour later, and several bands showed up, they too having finished their last gig for th enight, and were headed for the water. My room overlooked the pool, and it sat empty all day, but late at night, in the wee hours, it came alive.

Well, back to the band bus...

Right in the middle of the desert, hundreds of miles from nowhere, the old bus caught on fire in the middle of the night, and the band barely escaped with their lives. So there stood the band next to the ruins of their bus, even the tires had melted from the extreme heat, all their instruments and sound equipment just burnt to a crisp and reduced to unrecognizable rubble. Their clothes gone, the cooler of food destroyed, even the peanut butter jar was shattered and black.

It was hours before a car came along, going the wrong way (east) and offered a ride, but he only had room for ONE. So that is how the band split up. They each caught a ride one by one every few hours, some heading west, others heading back east. My friend tells me he was the last to leave, has never seen any of the guys since, has no idea whatever happened to them. But that was the end of that band.


written by Miss Mermaid

The whoosh! And thwack! Of leather upon willow ‘could very well be a cricket phrase attributed to Somerset Maugham many years ago; a little twee perhaps, but I wonder if he could have envisaged the path that the game - enjoyed by so many English speaking countries and fanatically followed in India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka – would take early into the new millennium. From the traditional 5 day Test Match format, through the introduction of the One Day/Limited Overs set-up, a la Australian entrepeneur Kerry Packer, arriving at the present day and the emergence of the short - game 20/20 spectacle.

In the Caribbean, the recently concluded R. Allen Stanford 20/20 tournament played in Antigua, has set the region alight with a passion and patriotic fervour not often seen in inter island cricket sorties. For the Antiguan economy, it is becoming an important money-spinner; for West Indian cricket, the vast prizes – a million $US for the winning team, $500,000US for the runner up and financial sweetners for outstanding players through the tournament – will ensure that the very best local athletic talent finds its way back into cricket, rather than following the lucrative soccer and basketball route that has seemed to be the norm of late.

Of course, besides the pay outs, another reason for the huge success of 20/20 – i.e. twenty overs of bowling per team for conclusion – is the brevity of the match. 3 to 4 hours usually secures a result and if this is played in an evening session, our hardy supporter does not have to broker a day off work or miss out on mowing the lawn at the weekend. Most of all, it’s obviously action, action, action from the first ball, so the players and spectators get revved up in tandem – from the TV cameraman’s viewpoint, the national flags of each team often block out the vibrant costumes of avid visitors from exotic locations such as Barbados, Guyana, Jamaica and Trinidad to name a few, but nothing can diminish the party atmosphere that remains long after the final run has been logged.

On the downside, the cricket purist will wax lyrically about the lack of batting strategy employed in a ‘go for everything’ attitude; it’s a very valid point. Some gifted young ones in the sport and on the way up, but not taking onboard the subtleties and nuances of the 5 day match, could find themselves boxed into the ‘slug it and see’ side of the game; notwithstanding, never achieving the Test stamina required for hours at the crease facing fast, medium pace and spin bowling.

From this, it’s quite possible to conclude that international cricket will be made up of Test and One Day teams plus an alternative 20/20 squad that specialize in agility and a quasi baseball mentality. What do you think?

Love is like a pineapple “ sweet and indefinable" (anon)

Ananas cosmosus is to the botanist, what simple pineapples are to you and me.

Anana, in fact is an old Caribbean word meaning "excellent fruit." This fruit is devoured with relish universally, though only grown in abundance throughout the tropical regions.

Most of the world views the pineapple, unfortunately, in a can as slices or chunks wallowing in its own juice, whereas the West Indians and their tourists alike get to taste the real, fresh product that comes straight up, or as a component in many attractive dishes.

A native of Brazil, this aristocratic plant was domesticated in what is now northern Paraguay and spread into the Caribbean with the migratory tract of Guarani and Carib Indians; the ensuing commerce between the tribes and various local peoples resulted in the pineapple being harvested on almost every island in the region. It flourishes so well here, not just because of the ideal cultivable climate, but more so because of its resistance to the hurricanes that traditionally ravage banana and papaya crops. Its armour-like shell, rotund shape and ground level growing position make it as hardy as any plant in the Caribbean.

Pineapples growing wild have always been considered inedible, so through the centuries, with sublime husbandry, great strides have been made to get the fruit “ taste wise that is at to where it's at today." Indeed, in 1820 a shipment of ananas from Jamaica were sent to the Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew where the plants were cross bred and "tweaked" to improve the sweetness, subsequently the new hybrids were returned to various Caribbean locations.

In many facets of life, rivalry between the islands is commonplace and pineapple superiority is no exception, with each territory claiming to have the most succulent product and appetizing allure. From the Dominican Republic to Guyana, the colour, size and lush tropical sweetness of the ripe fruit can be so different, that coming to a preference for one or another becomes a personal thing.

There are many varieties world wide, but just a few dominate the market. As far as the Caribbean is concerned, the Red Spanish is the most common type. This has a square-like shape, a weight of 3 to 5 pounds and has acquired indigenous names such as the Antiguan Black renowned for its unique taste the Dominican Green and Guyana Joe,etc. The Cayenne is another popular version.

A good pineapple should be fragrant when sniffed at the stem end and bruise free. After picking, the fruit merely ages, never developing more sweetness or juice – it will get softer if left at room temperature for a day or two before serving.

Your Caribbean vacation would be nothing without the ubiquitous pina colada, plus many other in-house pineapple concoctions. If you fancy something a little different try this:

Take a large pineapple, cut off the top and bottom. With a long sharp knife, vertically cut around the fruit core, without damaging the shell. Push out the whole core and cut into thin rounds. Put the rounds back into the shell, place in a bowl and pour your measure of Cointreau and/or Grand Marnier over the fruit and let it trickle through. Put in the refrigerator. Pour residue from the bowl over slices every two hours. Guaranteed scrumptious!