Friday was our last full day in Grenada. C had decided that in order to get any good snorkeling in we should go in the morning, so the three of us (:R: wasn’t interested) put on sunblock and rented equipment. I was amazed at how easy it was - I’d expected it to be much more difficult to breathe, but when I was in the water I just swam around and looked at the coral and the fish. It was a really cool experience! My mask was pinching my face, though, so after a while I treaded water and tried to fix it…but ended up loosening it instead, and even holding onto A for support I couldn’t get it back together. I was getting very nervous and panicky, so A patiently followed me as I doggie-paddled back to land; I’m very grateful to her for not sending me off on my own. I got out and stood on the beach for a little while, then fiddled with my mask and decided to go back in. I swam around a bit more and took some pictures with C’s underwater camera, then decided I’d had enough. While trying to climb ashore, I slipped on the coral and immediately felt sharp pain in my left ankle. I screamed (A later told me I’d worried some people relaxing on the beach), and had no idea if I’d cut myself or broken something. C was right beside me and was telling me to get out of the water; I was in a lot of pain and insisted I couldn’t, but he told me I had to. So I finally swam/crawled/hobbled along, clutching my left ankle, and what do you think happened then? Bingo! I slipped and cut my right ankle. I bawled again and dragged myself out of the water, barely remembering to make sure my bikini top wasn’t too revealing - it’s illegal to go topless in Grenada. I stumbled back toward the dive shack to return my snorkeling equipment (it was halfway around the resort from where I’d come ashore), and on the way I managed to peer at my ankles. I’d really done a number on the left one, which was quite bloody but hadn’t yet dribbled onto my water shoes. I paused to dab at it, and when I got to the dive shack and handed in my gear I asked if they had a first aid kit. The guy gave me the biggest band-aid he had (it wasn’t big enough) and some spray-on Bactine, but I had no freshwater to rinse it with. I sat in a chair outside the dive shack and patted it dry the best I could, trying to push the dirt out of the way. As I was finishing up, one of the braid ladies came up and offered to do my hair. I had been planning to get some braids done before leaving, but right then all I wanted to do was go back to my room and rinse my cuts a little better, then raid C’s first aid kit. The woman was very aggressive, though, and I ended up having my hair done on the spot. She did more than I wanted to - I’d asked for five on each side, which at $2/each used up the $20 I’d budgeted for having my hair braided - and I wound up with eight braids on the left and six on the right, a total of 14 for which I was charged $25. She’d promised to make the right side even with the left, so she cheated me out of two braids, but at least she made them even so it wouldn’t be too obvious. For dinner we went to the Brown Sugar Restaurant (which provided free transportation), which was wonderful. The prices were all-inclusive, which meant you got an appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert. I chose callaloo soup for my appetizer and ate my salad, but by the time my pumpkin ravioli arrived I was too full to eat more than one of them! They were delicious, I wish I had the recipe. I had the rest boxed up, of course. For dessert I chose what sounded like a delightfully unique cheesecake, only to find that the only dessert they had left was a chocolate cake I could have anywhere. I was grumpy about that, but got them to give me a free drink instead; I had another “Your Business Brown” which I think came in a bigger glass than the one I’d had at the beginning of the meal.