Samedi 07.10.06 Wagon wheels & chariot meals
C’est le weekend! Even though I’ve had it easy all week, with only three days at school, I still relish my lie-in. It’s 11,00 by the time I surface and Nic’s already out on the terrace taking in the fresh morning air while simultaneously puffing away on those cheap-ass, American (bad!) News fags.
Today we’re off to view a car. Madame Arlette’s mécanicien, Fred, has sourced a motor for us, and after a few false starts of our own, (damn 24 hour clock!) we’re eventually up past Chateauboeuf to meet Arlette’s motor merchant. The hills around this part of the city are unlike any I’ve witnessed so far. With this windy, workout it’s no wonder both Arlette and her Astra start wheezing on the way up.
Our chariot awaits us in the form of a dark grey Volkswagen Golf 1.5 Diesel. Its 16 years old and it shows, but the owner is required by law to fix its major faults before selling it. Visually, it’s no great sight with plenty of corrosion and a few cobwebs. The doors are stiff and one back window doesn’t roll down, but the motor is sound and the diesel engine will be a help on the hills. It’s time for a test drive so Nicola takes to the front with Fred beside her and moi-même in the back. There’s no power steering but it manages on the steep inclines, and Nicola seems confident even though everything’s on the opposite side.
Meanwhile Arlette has been bargaining on our behalf and she somehow manages to get the owner down to €600; probably by telling him we’re so poor as she took all our money as rent! There are so many things to be repaired and replaced but both men seem confident that it can be done without too much hassle. We’re more content with the price of the car than the state of it. We get the Carte Grise with the car’s details and past history which we need for a final insurance quote. We thank our guides and we’re soon back on the road again.
If you were to try work out how long we’ve been in Martinique by totting up our grocery bills you’d probably presume we’ve been here for a month, not two weeks. It’s not as if we buy big brands or lots of convenience food it’s more to do with the inconvenience of not having our own wheels, and when Madame Arlette offers to bring us somewhere we instantly ask to stop by Hyper U. And once we’re there we may as well stock up. It’s not the cheapest place and by the time we’ve loaded our chariot with our staple Coco Pops, UHT milk and yogurts (no banana flavoured ones please), we may as well slip in some decent Cadbury’s chocolate and try out another strange vegetable or two.
Today Nicola has a craving for bifteck and baked beans. Unfortunately the Heinz variety doesn’t exist here but we got a mammoth Bien Vu (own brand) tin for €0.70. Our mean bean buying power meant €12 went on steak. Nicola also spied some salmon and made a dash for it. As I don’t care much for fish I decided against a portion of the pink poisson. Nicola returned with a sheepish (or fishy, rather) look across her face. She hands me the smelly salmon asking me to check the price. Nearly €9 for a fistful of fish! No thanks! And back it went into the sea…or rather aisle C, by the Cod cutlets.
Thankfully our rent covers all our bills so we do have a little extra to spend on food but €215 the weekend we arrived, €70 last Tuesday and €150 on our most recent shop seems steeper than those hills near Chateauboeuf. Welcome to the real world mean Cavan mademoiselle.
Poor Arlette was in the car resting herself so we hurried along to the checkout. But we waited ages while the caissière buzzed her supervisor to check the cost of Desperados and sliced ham. A lady in the queue spotted our big buy and boldly asked if she could put our points on her card. Had poor Arlette realised just how many bonus buys she could have got with those points she would have definitely paled a lot more.
Back at the ranch we’re half-way through sorting the shopping when my Mum rings. She tells me she plans to go to our graduation ceremony even if I’m not there. “Why not,” I say. It’s better the tickets be used for that purpose than for swatting flies. Plus she can probably accept my scroll on my behalf. It’d be an idea to rent a gown and mortar board here and send pictures of me decked out at a beach on Barbados. We can but dream, but sometimes dreams come true…
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