Making Grand Turk home
Grand Turk, Turks and Caicos, British West Indies
One visit to Grand Turk was all it took before I decided to abandon my life as a Chicago city girl and call this humble island home. Upon my arrival at the Grand Turk airport in January 2007, this Caribbean island seemed like nothing more than a cactus-ridden sandbar. But that sentiment changed when I saw the pristine water, white sand beaches the consistency of flour and my first sunset with some random guy at the beach-side bar who called himself Rainbow Boy. Ah, nirvana. (Caveat: Sand the consistency of flour tends to creep into crevices one would not think possible. On the upside, it’s also nature’s exfoliator.)
My days consisted of a casual routine of diving in the mornings, exploring neighboring islands in the Turks and Caicos archipelago, imbibing with new friends (the locals were quite friendly) and killing blood-sucking mosquitoes the size of my head. I was forewarned, but nothing can really prepare first-time visitors for the blood lettings and the tenacity of the dive-bombing bastards. OFF became my perfume of choice for the first four or five days—until the new meat smell wore off. Eventually I became less appetizing than the new, fresh meat that arrived daily.
Even though the island is only seven-miles long by one-mile wide, the demographic is quite diverse. Expats are mostly from the U.K. and Canada; but include a lovely German woman who owns and runs the Salt Raker Inn as well as Dominican and Haitian immigrants. Sleepy was the best way I can describe the island. And even though Cockburn Town is the nightlife mecca on the island, the description still fits. In 2007, only four bars existed on the road by the beach, all of which had a copious stash of mosquito repellent and beer. I’m guessing much has changed given that a year ago, Grand Turk was slammed by Tropical Storm Hannah and then a week later by Hurricane Ike, which was a Category 5.
A beach in Cockburn Town, just a conch throw from Manta House
On my first visit, the island was mostly undeveloped saved for the monstrosity marring the Southern part of the island. A corporation thought it would be brilliant to level a beautiful coral reef to build a cruiseship dock. The same corporation also introduced some horrid chain restaurant in the vicinity, though I can’t remember the name—Margarita Madness, Cowboy Dan’s Beastly Barnone, I dunno. What I do remember is a giant, neon green margarita glass on the roof beckoning the throngs of over-eating cruisers into its greasy lair. On my second visit, I was told that Wyndham Corporation was planning to build a hotel near Cockburn Town on coveted beach-front property. As far as I know, the hurricanes didn’t scare them off.
My second visit not quite a year later later was to determine if I could live on a desert island without a proper haircut (the Suck-Kut doesn’t count), a coffee shop, Cheetos and Sephora. My final decision was a big fat “no.” But I miss Grand Turk and think of it often. Both charming and simple, it reminds visitors about how life should be lived—without stress or the pressure of productivity and on-time arrivals (hence the term “Island Time” coined by the locals). Adapting to Grand Turk’s way of life is the easy part—it’s leaving that’s difficult.
Just so you have an idea of where you're going.
Getting there: Most major airlines fly into Provodenciales. From there, you can take a island commuter flight to many of the Turks and Caicos islands.
