Escape to St. Lucia The Land of the Light By Sophie Ball They call St Lucia ‘Land of the Light’, although there was little trace of that light when we landed at Hewanorra airport. Instead, we were met with grey skies and a languid, muggy, heat that threatened to betray the superlatives usually attached to the island. The next day the clouds gave way to rain, but not UK rain - the kind of endless drizzle that dampens your soul. This was tropical rain: abandoned, prodigious, and exhilarating in its intensity. This was the kind of rain that allows an island, which rarely sees temperatures below 25c, to boast of some of the most verdant vegetation in the world. The next day the sun pushed through the clouds, and for my British, city-dwelling self, it was like waking up to the world in HD. Plants were greener, the sand was whiter, and voices were louder. There is a kind of steamy, sensual promise to St Lucia, it has an unbridled fertility that is apparent in everything, from the variety of the vegetation: 60 different types of mango grow here, to the dancing at Jump Up - a weekly street party held at Gros Islet. They say desperation breeds discontent and on an island where “anything grows” and you have “poverty but not starvation”, there is no trace of that desperation. In its place are a curiosity and inherent optimism that breathes credence into that very Caribbean idiom tings b’riite. It’s an interesting and revealing attitude when you take into account the history of St Lucia. In 1778, the British...
