Boats, biscuits and brack - Mardi, 24.10.06

Mardi 24.10.06 Boats, biscuits and brack

Madame Arlette offers to drive us in this morning partly because I have my heavy dish and brack to carry around and also because she wants to go to the early morning market. We’re in Fort-de-France by 6,30 and it’s already full of activity with vendors selling their wares from carts and stalls, commuters boarding TaxiCos and passengers embarking from the Trois-Ilets petrolettes across the bay. We have plenty of time to kill before we’ve to make the move to school so we stroll along the waterfront and find a wooden hut to stretch-out on like one of the many drunks and drifters further upstream. Despite all the activity it’s so peaceful and pretty here overlooking the bay. While we’re lounging, watching the sun rising over the faraway hills four petrolettes from Trois-Ilets come over to leave their loads; students, tourists, traders, business people…

I’m soon in school with my cake and cacahuètes being passes around the staffroom. Claude, le blagueur (joker), quips that I’ll make a good wife if I was to be judged by my cooking skills. I admit that I got lucky with the cake. I’m usually a very accident prone cook so I’m fortunate not to have any injuries to show. I’m asked about the origins of the name Brack. I had found two derivations: 1.) In Northern Ireland and in Ireland, brack is the Celtic word for salt and is used to mean "bread". Barm Brack is leavened bread, the word barm meaning yeast. 2.) The term Barm Brack for an Irish fruit loaf or cake is a corruption of the Irish word "aran breac" (speckled bread).

For today’s classes I used a less detailed lesson plan so the kids all get a balance between the written English exercises and traditional Halloween tales. It’s the last day of school before the Toussaint holidays so I explain to the kids that if they work well and work quickly to get through the four phrases then we will have more time to celebrate Halloween. Everyone’s soon in high Halloween spirits with Trick or Treat scenes, fast, frantic rounds with suspended apples and tummies full of brack. Some children give me chocolate chip cookies as a present which is sweet. I give them extra cake in exchange. A few children say they’ve tasted similar cakes like brack but others who haven’t ask for the recipe so I promise to bring it in after the holidays – I reckon I can get them to write it up for our ‘English Corner’.

School’s soon over and I head into town to meet Nicola for lunch at La Croisière where we both opt for the daily €12 menu. The thirst is on me and I’m almost too full of fizz to appreciate our lovely lunch. We’ve hard boiled egg salad to start and I surprise myself by taking the fish option. It’s a fillet with a smooth fennel sauce, green beans, carrots and rice. For dessert it’s either lemon tart or coconut flan. We have one each and Nicola gets a coffee to wash down her cigarettes.

Nicola has been on the internet all morning looking for accommodation for our trip during Toussaint. We’ve finally got accommodation in Guadeloupe at the Auberge Le Grande Large near Saint-Anne (www.aubergelegrandlarge.com). We had wanted to stay in the Anchorge Dive Hotel but the rooms we provisionally reserved were gone and we were then quoted $500+ which was too excessive. Nicola had been in contact with some charlatan who said he had reserved our pool-side rooms but only when she directly contacted the hotel did she find out the rooms were already taken. We’ll be staying in Guadeloupe for the 29th, 30th and 31st of October and then travelling on to Dominica for four more days. We now need somewhere to stay in Dominica. We have our eye on a spot in the south of the island called Scot’s Head. It’s near Champagne Beach and the Boiling Lake while only being 10km from the capital Roseau. However the owners still haven’t gotten back to us but we reckon we’ll get it since we’re going to be there for the end of the Créyol Festival when things have wound down.

Nicola goes back to school for her last class and I scamper off to the bus. All the brack is gone so my only load is the dish which now seems so light. I meet John there at the bus-stop. He has his saxophone with him as he’s just back from giving lessons. I hear him tooting away later that evening as I sit on the terrace sipping tea and eating my own buttered brack. I reckon I’ve had my quota for the month so I freeze the rest. It’s soon time for me to preserve myself from the mad mossies so I put on my PJs, socks and sprays before settling under the net for the night.