Getting places in Grenada is an interesting proposition. Traffic moves on the left-hand side of the road, a nod to the country's British colonial history, and drivers weave in and out of traffic with seemingly little regard for the road ahead of them--though I never saw anyone crash. Although theoretically we could have rented a car to get around down here, there is no way I would have had the guts to drive in Grenada. It takes nerves of steel, and I give Meg total props for driving us around in the Suzuki Escudo (the national car of Grenada, it seems, there are so many of them) that she borrowed from a friend for the week.

If you don't have a car in Grenada, that leaves you with two ways to get around: on foot, or the bus.

Buses in Grenada are everywhere. These are not the same type of municipal buses we see in American cities. They're more like a US full-size van, except not like any family van you've ever ridden in. Each driver has his own bus tricked out exactly how he wants it. Each is labeled with a name--everything from "Jesus Saves" to "Dynasty" to "No Fear." They call them reggae buses. When I asked Meg why they call them reggae buses, she shrugged. "Because rasta guys drive them? Because they listen to reggae music? I don't know."




The reggae buses cruise the streets of town constantly, with a two-man crew: a driver and a spotter. Whenever they see anyone walking down the street--any pedestrian at all--they shout out the window. "You need a bus? Hey! You need a bus?" If you don't need one, you just shake your head. If you do, the bus pulls over immediately, wherever it happens to be, and you run up and jump on board. (Unless, of course, a police officer happens to be around, in which case everyone on the bus starts yelling, "Po! Po! Po!" and the bus pulls over only at the designated bus stops.)

The buses are crowded with Grenadians of all ages, shapes and sizes, plus the occasional student or tourist. The spotter motions you to your seat as you get on, and you squeeze in wherever you can. You go about a block and then, the bus pulls over again to squeeze more passengers in. You go another two blocks, and one of the passengers will suddenly knock the wall of the bus. This means, "I want to get off now, please." The bus pulls over, everyone next to or in front of them files off so they can exit, and then they all pile back in again.

The reggae buses are stifling, crowded, sticky and loud (And the few that I rode in weren't actually playing reggae. They seem to favor soca, a Caribbean musical style that is sort of a blend of rap and techno with a little super-charged reggae thrown in).

They are also dirt cheap and easy to find. It costs $2.50 EC (EC stands for East Carribean dollar; the local currency) for a ride. That's like $1 US for a bus ride anywhere on the island.

Although I think I would get tired of relying on buses for transportation eventually, and it would be hard as heck to maneuver my passel of babies and toddlers in and out of those things, for tourists who want to get around the island for cheap and who don't mind mingling with the locals (as in being seated so close to them that your sweat is probably literally mingling with theirs) then reggae buses are the way to go.