nice, kao i privatne ordinacije. Naj- posećeniju je duže od dve decenije držao srpski lekar, dotad jedini Sr- bin na ostrvu, sjajan doktor, veseo, duhovit, ekscentričan i dobroname- ran – nije bilo čoveka na ostrvu koji njega nije poznavao. Seoske zabave su se održavale nedeljom i igrao se samo rege. Duž druma se prodavala tek spravlje- na hrana, dok su se u krčmi mogla dobiti pića neobičnih kombinacija: mango-papaja, bela udovica, bela, a žestoka, banana-tekila, džin-me- renge, absint sa lomljenim ledom, šareni leptir, od kojeg kaleidoskop treperavih boja zaigra pred oči- ma, gorki limun, koji se i pije i žva- će, kao i slatki krompir sa kokoso- vim mlekom. Ostrvljani su čokoladno tamno- puti, vitki, sjajne kože i skladne te- lesne građe, lepih crta lica, jednom rečju prekrasni. A tek deca u škol- skim uniformama, sa upletenim ki- kicama i sjajnim znatiželjnim očima. Ta crnpurasta skupina proša- rana je ponekim melezom ili bel- cem, a ponajviše Indijcima, koji su u doba belačke izgradnje bili uve- zena radna snaga jer su ostrvljani, jednostavno, odbijali da rade. Za- što bi, kad su sve imali nadohvat ruke: ribu iz mora, plodove sa drve- ća i lepršave kolibe od trske i pal- minog lišća. Tako je izgledala Sent Luša pre više od dve decenije, kada sam je prvi put posetila i zavolela. Sada se moja „nedođija“ više ne ponaša kao netaknuta mlada već kao iskusna, odrasla turistička zvez- da. Izgrađeni su hoteli, usamlje- ne vile za milionere, samoposluge, proširen je aerodrom za mlaznjake i luka za ploveće oblakodere. Jedi- no su putevi ostali u prilično lošem stanju jer ih bogataši drže nepro- hodnim da im svet ne bi ometao mir. Najskuplje vile, obično okru- žene raskošnim baštama i bazeni- ma, smeštene su na brdašcima, tako da pogled puca sa jedne strane na Atlantik, raj za surfere, a sa druge na Karipsko more, raj za kupače. Na zapadnoj, karipskoj strani, na jed- nom od dva brda nazvana Mali i Ve- liki piton, na hridi koja se survava u more sagrađen je, tačnije uklesan hotel sa sobama-bazenima: iz kreve- ta pravo u bazen oivičen staklenim zidom koji omogućava nezaboravan pogled na morsku pučinu. Svet ne oskudeva u čudima.
By a strange turn of events, or sheer coincidence, I was invited to spend a month on the small Caribbean island of Saint Lucia or, for me, “Neverland”. It was a bad year, one in the first half of the 1990s, when people in the Balkans rare- ly smiled. After a long flight, all gloomy and grim, I suddenly realised that a smile had stretched over my face the moment I emerged from the cramped Vigie Airport and set foot on the soil of the island. The light sound of waves, the rustle of leaves on slender palm trees and chirping birds merged into a steady hum that flowed on the warm, fresh breeze. I had come to paradise. My "Neverland," as I had dubbed it, was then still almost virtually untouched, with white sandy beaches and a turquoise sea, and with a temperature always suita- ble for the human body. It was as though an angel had come down from heaven and dipped her pink finger, saying to the forces of nature, “Now! Neither hotter nor cooler!” Among the mango trees, whose branches are weighed down with juicy seasonal fruits, Šum talasa, šušanj lišća na vitkim palmama i cvrkut ptica stapaju se u stalni zuj koji struji vazduhom The light sound of waves, the rustle of leaves on slender palm trees and chirping birds merged into a steady hum that flowed on air amid exotic plants and fragrant flowers of bright colours, shakes a humming crowd. A smaller part of the island is impenetrable jungle, with only the occasional ragged path for those who are braver, while the rest com- prises banana plantations, the most lucra- tive export of Saint Lucia. The island changed hands between French and English colonial rule several times, then finally, from the mid-1970s, it be- came an independent country with an hon- orary English governor. At that time my “Neverland” had one asphalt road, three aged hotels, a fish mar- ket on the seashore in a small harbour, where boats were awaited with their fresh catch, and where fish was bought and cleaned on the spot, with the price agreed between the seller and the buyer by gestic- ulation, because fishermen only speak the local Creole Patois language, and an open air market with often unrecognisable fruits and vegetables. One young man with a ma- chete who cut the tops off coconuts and poured the liquid into a small cup made of
coconut shell for just a few pennies. There were no grocery stores, boutiques or shops, but there were several excellent restaurants with French chefs. In the capital, Castries, and in Vieux Fort there was a clean and well-equipped hospital and private clinics. The most popular clinic has been operated for over two decades by a Serbian doctor, hitherto the only Serb on the island, an ex- cellent doctor, happy, funny, eccentric and benevolent - there wasn’t a man on the is- land who didn’t know him. Village entertainment was held on Sun- day and they played only reggae. Along the road, they sold freshly prepared food, while in the pub you could get drinks of unusu- al combinations: mango-papaya, “White Widow”, white and strong, banana-tequi- la, gin-merengue, absinthe with crushed ice, “colourful butterfly”, which caused a flicker- ing kaleidoscope of colours to play before my eyes, “bitter lemon” that is drunk and chewed, as well as sweet potatoes with coco- nut milk. The islanders are, in a word, delightful. And then the children in school uniforms, with braided pigtails and bright inquisi- tive eyes. The locals are interspersed with the oc- casional mixed race or white person, and native Americans, who came as imported labour during the colonial construction pe- riod because the islanders simply refused to work. Why would they, when they had everything at hand: fish from the sea, fruit from the trees, and flapping huts of reeds and palm leaves? That’s how Saint Lucia looked more than two decades ago, when I first visited and fell in love. Now my “Neverland” no longer behaves like a virgin bride, but rather like an experi- enced mature tourist. Hotels have been con- structed, individual villas for millionaires, supermarkets; the airport has been extend- ed for commercial airliners and a port built for floating skyscrapers. Only the roads have remained in a fairly poor condition, because the wealthy keep them impassable so the world will not interfere with their peace. The most expensive villas, usually surrounded by lush gardens and swimming pools, are locat- ed on the hills, so that they offer views of the Atlantic, a paradise for surfers, on one side, and the Caribbean Sea, a paradise for swim- mers, on the other. On the western, Caribbe- an, side, on one of two hills named the Small and Great Python, on a cliff that collapses into the sea, has been built, actually carved, a hotel with rooms-pools: from the bed you can step straight into a pool surrounded by a glass wall that provides a spectacular view of the sea . The world is not lacking in wonders.
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