"Tupac Shakur lives on the other side of Mount Gimie," Philippe said, referring to St. Lucia's remote, largest mountain. "Some people in America think he is dead," but he added, "we know he is up there."
Jane, Philippe and I were walking on a dirt road, above a layer of clouds, a place dripping with beads of water and humidity. Dripping off grass, and giant bromeliads and wild orchids.
We hired Philippe to sit in the back of our jeep and yelp cautions through the precariously rocky upper regions of St. Lucia's interior rainforest reserves. He resembled the other youth of the island in that he fancied himself of the urban lifestyle - rap and drugs and quick-talk. The trends of youth are always uncompelling and out-of-place in small islands.
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