Castries

Being a slightly intrepid sort, I decided to catch the local bus into the capital, Castries, rather than take a taxi. Not very adventurous, but with my sense of direction it can always go awry. And indeed I happily got on the little mini-bus that constitutes the service, feeling rather pleased with myself at finding the stop. Only when told it was the end of the road in a pretty non-descript village (Gros Inlet), did I realise I had caught  the bus in the wrong direction. Ah well, by a somewhat meandering route I eventually got to the capital (and at least saw the entire bus route). On arrival my state was probably obvious to all as a nice lady asked me if I was lost or just looking around. A difficult philosophical question really. Since I didn't know what I was looking for I probably came under the latter category, but if I had known I would have been lost. Where the bus stopped it was pretty much just a cacophony of traffic and run down buildings and stalls.

Unfortunately, it didn't get much better. Castries is never going to make the short list for greatest world capital. Or indeed the long list. Really hard to find any redeeming features, and I did try. These photos do it much more than justice.

The markets are run down and full of tacky souvenirs. The public square, Derek Walcott Square, was closed to the public,

 The catherdral, well have you ever visited a cathedral before? If you have, then you have seen a more impressive one. Decorated by local artists in what would be deemed naive style (ie by artists who aren't much good at drawing).
 

Most attractive building was the library.

Every 30 seconds someone asked me if I wanted a taxi. The best sight was away from the main drag and getting a better view of the harbour. On the day I visited it held no less than three cruise ships. These are clearly the mainstay of the economy as they disgorge thousands of doddery Americans (and to be fair some families too) who proceed to scatter around the island for a day. This had a strange effect on Reduit Beach in front of my hotel. No criuse ship and it was pretty empty. With a cruise ship it was still pretty quiet until about 10 am when suddenly there would be a stream of holiday makers arriving, trailed by local chaps anxious to rent them a dechchair and sunshade.

Anyway, the ships were pretty impressive in the harbour. The odd pyramid by the way is a French cultural centre, or so I was told.

And if you are wondering about the name of the capital (ok I know you weren't), its named after this bloke, the Marquis of Castries.