Flowers, spice and
all things nice

Grenada’s heady mix of exotic markets, tropical blooms and idyllic beaches works its magic on Solange Hando as she unwinds, Caribbean style

Thousands of lights twinkling on the hillside, dancing around the bay… how could I bear to draw the curtains? Sat up in bed and lulled by the ocean breeze, I fell asleep gazing at the view. I awoke to the sight of the morning star and the first rays of sun bouncing off the white sands of Magazine Beach.

Tucked in the south-eastern Caribbean at the southern end of the Windward Islands, Grenada was keeping her promise: blue seas, pristine beaches, emerald hills and the scent of tropical blooms and exotic spices lingering in the air.

Our first hideaway was named Paw Paw, one of seven luxurious Maca Bana Villas perched on a clifftop in the south of the island. It felt almost like a tree house teetering on the edge of paradise – with the addition of a four-poster bed, a five-star kitchen and a hot tub. We could venture out into the hills, relax in the infinity pool, dine in the romantic Aquarium restaurant, cook our own Creole meal with the chef or laze all day on virgin sands. Sheer indulgence.

Exploring St George's

But across the bay, St George’s – said to be the prettiest capital in the Caribbean, all pastel-coloured roofs tumbling down to the harbour framed by the lush cones of volcanic hills – beckoned. It’s small enough to explore on foot and guarded by an 18th century fort set up on a rocky headland.

You soon forget the climb up there as you stand on the breezy battlements and gaze over to the southern cliffs, the new cruise terminal, the lagoon speckled with sails and the perfect horseshoe of the inner harbour – the Carenage – and its freshly converted warehouses and waterside restaurants.

On this most exotic island, which gained its independence from the UK in 1974, you feel at home. Traffic drives on the left – most of the time – Eastern Caribbean dollars bear the Queen’s head, everyone speaks English and red phone booths stand on the quay.

But don’t be fooled. Walk through the breezy Sendall tunnel and you’ll arrive in the distinctly Caribbean open-air market, where you’ll be swept into another world of mysterious vegetables and fruit, spices galore, batik and printed shirts, palm leaf hats and much more. Beyond the parasols and sweetcorn barbecues, steep lanes and steps climb up the slopes where colonial dwellings and churches, scarred by Hurricane Ivan, doze under garlands of flags.

Relaxing in Grand Anse

Bordered by three harbours at the foot of the hills, St George’s has no room for a beach. However, in next to no time, water taxis will whizz you across to Grand Anse and its two-mile crescent of powdery white sand. Set in the tourist area in the south west, Grand Anse is the main resort, yet it has no high rise buildings or heaving crowds.

We found more shady trees than parasols, a few small boats bobbing at anchor and one beach restaurant serving delicious callaloo soup, conch and mahi-mahi fish. It was all a tropical paradise should be.

All over the island, French names survived the British takeover and our next home from home was a good example of this. Lance aux Epines (Prickly Bay) Cottages is ideal for families and anyone looking for a quiet spot close to the main resort and amenities. It’s a mere handful of flower-draped apartments and bungalows scattered among shaded lawns, right on the edge of the beach, where you can watch yachts sail past glinting in the light and golden sunsets over the bay. If the children ever want a change from the beach, there’s a games and TV room.

You could hire a cook and take them shopping in the market, although there are restaurants and small stores just down the road, with more shopping in Grand Anse, a five-minute drive away.

Taxis can be expensive, while minibuses charge only a few dollars, tooting for custom as they pass. If you rent a car, you’ll need a sense of adventure to negotiate the many bends, sleeping policemen and potholes and to cope with the the lack of road signs, although on an island only 21 miles by 12, you’re unlikely to get lost.