Annandale Falls, left, is one of several inland waterfalls in Grenada. (SUN/Percy Rowe)

Motorists on Grenada tend to drive with one hand. The other is needed to wave to their friends. The only exception is when approaching a pothole or a blind curve. And there are plenty of them on the twisting, hilly roads.

Potholes and bends in the road have a purpose though. They keep Grenada one of the most natural islands in the Caribbean. Dense tropical vegetation helps, so do waterfalls, inland mountains and quiet bays. And so do the things that are not there - billboards, fast food outlets, high rise hotels.

I have been going to Grenada since 1966. I was there two days before the 1980s U.S. "intervention" of the island, happily drinking beers with the American medical students who had to be "saved." I have been there since Hurricane Ivan in 2004 damaged 98% of the island's buildings.

Apart from a lot of roofs blown off 200-year-old churches, government buildings, schools -- to bring back tourists, homes and hotels had to be repaired first -- and fallen nutmeg trees, I didn't see great differences from my first visit.

Sure, you can now go to the neighbouring Grenadines island of Carriacou by small plane or fast catamaran instead of taking four hours by creaking sailing schooner.

Call me a Luddite, but the schooner trip was more appealing. The deck was crowded with a Mini-Minor car, potted banana trees, Girl Guides going to camp, women laden with purchases from the Saturday market in St. George's. The "steward" could be distinguished by the ruster bottle-opener dangling from his belt and the captain was the one in equally grubby cutoffs who came round to collect fares.

It isn't nostalgia alone that has me going back to Grenada. It is that this is an island that has stood up to globalization and won. And that doesn't mean it is backward. Its resorts are the match of any in the Caribbean, its food outstanding, its Grand Anse Beach one of the longest (at 4 km) and best among all the islands.

Grenada is a place that makes organic a superfluous word. Everything is fresh - fruits, vegetables, spices, fish. It's as if chemicals had never been invented. Everybody - and that probably includes the prime minister -- has a garden plot. There are market stalls everywhere.

Then there are spices (after all, this is "The Spice Island.") These not only scent the air but a pinch goes into practically every soup, fish or meat dish. Nutmeg is the most common. It is in punches, salads, cakes and ice cream.

An indicator of the abundance of organic produce is the national dish, called Oil Down. Starting from the bottom of an iron pot, this stew consists of fish, layered breadfruit, okra, onions, other vegetables, sometimes pieces of pork or goat, a wrapping of dasheen leaves (from which, in the wonderful callaloo soup is also made.)

Coconut milk is poured over everything and its cooked at least two hours.

This is served at lunch at Morne Fortune, a high inland 100-year-old mansion. It is a Grenada institution, a must lunch stop on any island tour. Once owned by Betty Maskoll, herself a Grenada institution, it is now run by Jean Thompson, who for decades was a doctor in Canada.

Over 50 years the place has changed little. The driveway is a causeway of tropical blooms, the garden is lush with vegetables, the view is over green hills to Mount St Catherine, at 800 metres Grenada's highest peak. The dining room is full of Victorian photos and furniture. The buffet table is loaded with island dishes.

You won't find Oil Down in the breeze-cooled patio dining areas of resorts like Flamboyant, Calabash, Bel Air, La Luna, Aquarium, La Sagesse. But unlike in the past when tourists were supposed to be only able to stomach hamburgers or pizza, all of these now serve other succulent local food, with flying fish, tuna, mahi-mahi and other fish from those waters just beyond the beach.

St. George’s one of the prettiest towns in the Caribbean. (SUN/Percy Rowe)

The Nutmeg also serves such dishes. This is at the heart of St. George's. Its upstairs open windows provide a grandstand view of curving Wharf Road below.

This is Main Street, Caribbean style. It encircles the harbour, called the Carenage. Beside its seawall fishing boats are unloaded, the catamaran rests after its trip to Carriacou, other boats are being loaded for shipment to other islands.

Across the harbour are shops; the town's main firehall, its hurricane damage repaired largely by volunteer Toronto firemen; a jetty for freighters; a wall of containers; a windjammer boarding passengers for a week's cruise.

That's all at eye level. Look upward, and there's a hilly town, its green vegetation and colourful bougainvillea, interspersed with forts, churches and pastel homes.

It's hard to tear away. But both beach and countryside are doing the tearing.

Far left, sorting nutmegs at Dougaldston Estate on the “Spice Island.” (SUN/Percy Rowe)

High Grand Etang National Park has a lake and walking trails, and Annandale Falls nearby. There is a rum distillery, built in the 1700s and looking like it. And the Dougaldston spice estate, ditto. There, nuts are bagged and sent off around the world. Until Ivan the Terrible passed through, every third nutmeg used in the world's kitchens came from Grenada.