Saint Lucia

Saint Lucia hit differently from the moment the ship docked. The Pitons — those two volcanic cones — are everywhere you look from Soufriere, and no matter how many times you glance up at them they still feel unreal. The light here has this thick, tropical quality, like the whole island is slightly overexposed. The waterfront promenade at Soufriere smelled of rain-damp brick and salt air, and the clouds were stacking up behind Petit Piton in that dramatic Caribbean way that makes you feel like the weather is performing for you.

I wandered through the craft markets along the harbour and it was sensory overload in the best way — rows of Bounty rum miniatures, hand-carved wooden masks, ceramic mugs printed with Saint Lucia's name, little toy planes made of local wood. The vendors were easy-going, not pushy at all, and the whole place had the feel of an island that knows exactly what it is and isn't trying to be anything else. The Marigot Bay coconut liqueur bottles lined up in a row caught my eye — I ended up buying one.

The drive through Castries gave me a different side of the island — the pyramid roof of Pointe Seraphine rising out of the waterfront, the steel sculpture by the harbour roundabout catching the afternoon light through the palm fronds. Saint Lucia is small enough that you can hold most of it in your head by the end of a single day, but every corner you turn throws something at you that you weren't expecting.