Wax Attack with the Jolie-Pitts - Vendredi, 06.10.06

vendredi 06.10.06 Wax Attack with the Jolie-Pitts

Today’s another wet day off for me. However, I do have work to do so I read over my teaching handbook and observation notes. It’s not long till I swap paper notes for the musical sort as I practice my tin whistle. The Sally Gardens and The Wild Rover are my chosen tunes. But as the sun comes out I soon loose interest in my own tweeting and twittering and instead decide to listen to the birds, and Arlette who is, as per usual, chirping away upstairs.

Since Nic and I are planning to go to the beach this weekend I feel that it’s time for me to beautify myself by becoming less like Furry John and more like furry gone. And so I start on my quest to find some plucky esthéticiennes. I shuffle upstairs to Arlette to get the annuaire (telephone directory). She insists on finding the best places…which often turn out to be the priciest. In the end I choose Épilation Beauté in Bellevue. Arlette offers to drive me into Fort-de-France as she’s off to a funeral. She seems a bit distant so I don’t ask her anything more and when we meet at 13,30 she’s dressed all in white – for reincarnation.

At the beauty salon I meet a Rastafarian who asks me if I have MSN. I rant about not having internet access let alone MSN and begin to wonder if he’s in to get his dreadlocks done. I decide to subscribe with Épilation Beauté for my time in Martinique as members get reduced rates and other benefits. I’m a bit tentative about giving my full coordonnées as the weirdo is hovering by the counter, though as it happens he ends up entering my details into the database anyway! Despite the peculiar patrons the place is spotless and refreshingly cool.

It’s great to wax lyrical about the benefits of smooth, hair-free limbs with these supporting sisters and agony aunts of the waxing world. When I tell people about the goodness and gains of waxing they are usually at pains to comprehend the whole method…behind my madness. Some people live their lives by maxims so if I could pick one to explain my fascination for fuzz-free pins and pits it would definitely be: No pain, no gain. (On n’a rien sans rien). So after an hour of hot wax and swift swipes I exit the salon a little tighter and about three pounds lighter!

Nicola is outside getting wrapped up the Rasta dude’s tales and tresses. He’s still harping on about MSN but we’ve no time for messin’ and head across the road for lunch. Nicola’s responsable at Lycée Joseph Gaillard brought her out for a €13 salad at the Rond Point so she’s content with her coke and smokes. My chicken baguette is like no other. The chicks here must get their wings waxed and get half their skin taken off in the process. Chicken thigh (cuisse de poulet) is the norm for dishes here. I reckon what little breast they have goes to the rip-off tourist restaurants at Trois-Ilets. However, despite the paltry poultry pieces my chicken baguette white cabbage and onion is surprisingly tasty; though it’s a long cry from the hot chicken-kiev rolls across the road from DIT Aungier Street :’-(

From slap-up meals we move on to a slap happy moron at the bus-stop. Some guy saunters by us and as he passes he stops in front of me and lands the palm of his hand on my cheek! It was neither forceful nor affectionate – more like the kind of clumsy pat of a toddler. Anyway it was odd but not harmful; I guess he thought I was cute or was even intrigued by my shiny, sweaty cheeks.

We didn’t encounter any more peculiar people until we arrived home off the bus. I had begun to recognise a few familiar faces on our bus route and as Nicola hobbled down the hill in her ill-fitting sandals and complained about her bites and blisters I noticed a guy with a khaki baseball cap behind us. He seemed pleasant and wished us a good evening in English. I replied similarly adding that we would talk to him in English next time. As we continued down the drive Nicola remarked that he was a hottie and she cursed her sore souls adding that we could have acquainted ourselves if it wasn’t for her desire for sweet feet.

Later that evening we watch Sophie’s Choice with Meryl Streep and Kevin Kline between calls from Kyla and Gethin. Kyla seems to be settling in well at Le François and Gethin has already found a rugby team to mingle with and take him to St. Martin for a rugby tour! Bex and Francesca text to say they’re renting a car for the weekend and also plan to go to Trois-Ilets. Nicola and I intend on getting the ferry across the bay but it hopefully won’t be long till we ditch the windswept waves for our own wild wheels.