Samedi 28.10.06 Sun and Fun, Fuelled Festivites
Whahoo! It’s my birthday today.
Joyeux Annversaire. Joyeux Anniversaire.
Joyeux Anniversaire. Joyeux Anniversaire.
Dite-moi, quel âge as-tu ? Dite-moi, quel âge as-tu ?
Dite-moi, quel âge as-tu ? Dite-moi, quel âge as-tu ?
Ajourd’hui j’ai 23 ans. Ajourd’hui j’ai 23 ans.
Ajourd’hui j’ai 23 ans. Ajourd’hui j’ai 23 ans.
And it’s Ochi Day in Greece. Ochi Day commemorates Mextaxa’s bold and unexpected refusal to allow Axis troops to cross into Greece during WWII. I text my Greek pal, Panos, in Thessaloniki to wish him well on this fine day. He could be anywhere in the world. He’s from Greece. I lived with him in Belgium. He went to work in Switzerland, and last time we spoke he said he hoped to soon go to London.
Nicola took her first private class today with two ladies so she left early this morning. She texts to tell me that the pervy young bus driver, David, drove her bus today. He’s driving mine too – at breakneck speed around the crazy turns and down the sketchy hills. Perhaps he’s a ‘speed demon’ and a Formula 1 fan like Nicola. At least they’ll have something in common – though he better not like Schumacher.
I’m off on my own circuit today – to Trois-Ilets, finally. It’s another scorcher with temperatures up to 39ºC according to the flashing neon signpost at the corner store. The good weather has brought more tourists with it; though this time the colossal cruiser is no-where to be seen. And neither is Nicola. We arranged to meet at the American Embassy (MacDonalds) at 11,30 and it’s not like her to be tardy. She arrives nearer to midday and explains that she had to go to her student’s house for the lesson. The twos ladies sound like right narks but it’s a nice no-brainer nixer.
The area around Trois-Ilets was once referred to as Cul de Sac à Vaches (Cow Creek) because of its location at the end of an inlet. The town got its present name from the three small islets in the bay; Charles, Sixtain and Thébloux, the names of their last owners, who operated lime kilns there. Found nearby is La Pagerie, birthplace of the Emperess Joséphine, where a small museum celebrates the memory of this famous Martinique figure. Le Village de la Poterie, former property of the Jesuits form the 17th century, holds a craft village with workshops, and Le Vatable with its forest and its sugar cane museum is located in the ruins of the Vatable distillery.
We hop on a pétrolette to Point du Bout which is one of the beach resorts at Anse Mitan in Trois-Ilets. The crossing from Fort-de-France only takes 20 minutes and it costs €3.90. We only buy a single ticket since our friend Will will be joining us later and he has offered to bring us back to Tivoli afterwards.
The bourg of Point du Bout is not unlike the town of Trois-Ilets with its «Red Heart»; walls, paths and roofs in typical red bricks and tiles. We wander around the quaint village, admiring the various pastel panels and typically touristy shops. There’s really nothing much to see or do in Point du Bout except dive into the sea or into a delicious dish, or soak up rum and sun. Though what else would I want to do for my birthday in the Caribbean?! It seems like a million miles away from Fort-de-France though the local yobos are never far away; one tries to sneak a bikini under his jacket but the owner spies him and shout him and his cronies out of the shop.
We soon stop browsing for gifts and instead scan menus for grub. La Pause, a small café-resto near the bourg centre, is our chosen midday watering hole. A Mexican with bleached, spiky hair welcomes us in. We’re soon nestled under the shady coconut trees, by the colourful hammocks, on our sturdy stools overlooking the square and sipping Pina Colada from hollowed pineapples. It’s not just a liquid lunch that we indulge in. I settle for a healthy slice of cheesy quiche with a juicy salad while Nicola has a divine bovine burger and chunky chips. My desert is the biz. It’s a magically moist chocolate and banana cake. Each moist morsel melts longingly in my mouth. Even though I’ve tried to resist bananas lately (since the mossies love them) I’ve no room for regrets.
There are many white sandy beaches at Point du Bout but its hard work finding one which isn’t possessed by a hotel or holiday complex. Nicola and I however, soon stumble upon a small bay where a dozen or so sun seekers are snorkelling and sunning themselves. On one side of the bay there’s a tiny jetty to jump off and the other side is full of fins, flippers and fish from both the sea life and the snorkellers. I lounge for a while like a beached banana boat on our sandy plot while the alcohol and sun soak in. The evening passes swimmingly though it’s not long until the heavens turn tawny and our skin takes on prune-like qualities.
Our bodies obviously need to be rehydrated so we pack up and seek out a nearby cocktail kiosk. By the time Will arrives we’re in high spirits. Since we’ve drunk the place dry we decide to venture on towards Tivoli, though not before making a stop at Will’s cousin’s bar, Le Green Impérial just outside Trois-Ilets. Thierry is our host and he’s also the President of the Barmen Association of Martinique. The bar, like the cocktails, is rich in colour, personality and taste. On entering the Le Green you first find yourself in the simply decorated wicker and wood restaurant. You then look over the terrace to see the bar below. The bar gets its name from the nearby golf course. Le Green is a true treasure trove with chunky wooden beams and adornments in various green tones along with quirky bottles, unique glasses, arty ashtrays, ethnic artwork, a publicity corner and bubbly personalities; Thierry’s three daughters work alongside him making and shaking concoctions. There’s a long high thick wooden counter which seems to be supported by giant beer barrels. The lower seats are also arranged around similar barrels with tiered tops.
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