It was sick - Dimanche, 29.10.06

Dimanche 29.10.06 It was Sick.

This morning Nik and I have another rendez-vous at the American Embassy (MacDo) in downtown Martinique. But this time we’re both waiting on the same person – David, our Scottish friend. It’s another wickedly warm day and David is soon spotted meandering towards us like a melted McFlurry.

We’re off on our holidays today. Guadeloupe is our first port of call and then Dominica. We bought a ‘family’ ferry ticket for €330 which once divided in three seems very reasonable for three ferry crossings; Fort-de-France to Point-à-Pitre, Point-à-Pitre to Roseau and Roseau back to Fort-de-France.

Karla and Co. are already at the port and David spies many acquaintances from the IUFM. So while David goes up to his friends I’m felt up by a husky heifer of a security guard - I get the feeling she’s pretty frisky despite her heavy-handedness and gruff touch. She asks me if I’ve any knives – clearly she can’t see the daggers I’m throwing at her. I come clean about my fork and spoon collection but my cutlery craze doesn’t appeal to her, she just mooves me along.

The ‘departure lounge’ is a cattle shed. And although there are a few fans rotating overhead they just seem to whip up the whiff of the livestock. There are rows of rickety wooden benches and a vending machine which only spits out peach flavoured ice-tea. There are no toilet facilities so that could be the reason behind the stench.

My Dad calls to wish us a safe journey and I get the obligatory rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ down the line. We soon join the queue and file outside. Nicola and David breathe a sigh of relief as they’re finally able to take a fag drag.

Thankfully the boat is a non-event. I don’t do anything except watch the Martinique coastline fade away. I’m content like that because any unnecessary motion or mutterings would have me spewing off the side. We have plenty of room to ourselves but there’s a kid’s soccer team who just won’t zip-it, though you can’t blame them for nattering away throughout the awful entertainment; Latino romcoms don’t rock my boat either.

It’s pretty chilly on the downstairs deck but the sickly smell up top, mingled with the midday heat and briny, fish-breath keeps me nestled in the coolness for most of the crossing. We stop at the port in Roseau for a few minutes while passengers disembark, embark and barf. I venture upstairs to use the facilities but some wretched retcher got there before me so I settle back into my seat with my innards still intact. The sea becomes more agitated on the last leg of our crossing. I just sleep.

After three hours at sea Guadeloupe greets us. It’s dusk when we dock and by the time we’ve disembarked the shadows are mingling with the sailors.

Alex (Northern Ireland) boarded at Dominica. Herself and Karla are spending the week in Guadeloupe with Angela and Ceri. Ceri has stayed on in Dominica for another few days but Angela is in Guadeloupe to greet the girls. Angela has a bit of a welcoming committee in the form of Andy and Martin, two German students who she met in Martinique and who she possibly persuaded to come to Point-à-Pitre.

A good few assistants attended Dominica’s 10th annual World Créole Music Festival (WCMF) held at the Pottersville Savannah. The main attractions were Shaggy and Wyclef Jean and one of Soca’s biggest international acts, Byron Lee and the Dragonaires. More indigenous artists included Zouk Flam with Anthony Gussie of Black Affairs fame and Ophelia Marie, T-Vice, WCK, Swinging Stars with Hunter and King Dice, Triple Kay just off their Belgium tour, Dominica’s own Impromptu Band, Admiral T out of Guadeloupe, Cael from Martinique, Mighty Sparrow and Haiti’s top compass bands Tabou Combo and Carimi. They warbled, wriggled and wooed the crowds over the three days despite the downpours.

Angela, Alex and Ceri were at the WCMF. Angela commented that, “It was sick.” That didn’t seem like the timeliest remark for those of us that were just off the boat, but nonetheless we had the sea out of our system at that stage.

We all went our separate ways at the port with Nicola, David and I hopping into a taxi to Sainte-Anne and the others off to get their rental motor en route to Saint-François.

Guadeloupe is one of those places where people who like to battle down prices can do so at their ease. If you don’t have at least two ‘walk aways’ before you settle on the price then you need to rethink your tactics. David is an old hand at this sort of thing. He lived in China for a while before coming to Martinique; he nearly didn’t make his flight back to Scotland from Hong Kong because the ticket traders didn’t see the funny side of his ‘walk away’ approach.

We bargain our taxi driver down to €40 for the 20km journey from Gare Maritime to Sainte-Anne. It may not seem like a snip but it cuts out hanging around for another ride. Plus we’re quite far away from the bus depot and as we don’t know our way around Point-à-Pitre it’s wiser to pay up.

Our lodgings in Sainte-Anne are in a modest but cheery beachside residence; Auberge Le Grand Large, just a two minute amble from the beach. (www.aubergelegrandlarge.com) And once you’re at the beach you can stroll along the sparkly, sandy, palm-dotted 13km shoreline of Plage Caravelle. It’s one of those picture-postcard turquoise bays where you can stroll, swim, sun, strut your stuff and rent out kayaks, windsurfers, body-boards and boats. Further up the strip, just east of Point-à-Pitre, is Guadeloupe’s premier resort area, Le Gosier, with the likes of Club Med taking over. Here you can rent the big beach boy toys: jet-skis and motor-boats, and you can also indulge in snorkelling and scuba-diving just beyond the reef.

It’s nearly 20,00 by the time we wander into a nearby restaurant, Lucullus. The place is comfortably sheltered by palm trees and colourful, flower and animal patterned placemats and charming wicker lamps brighten up the place. Cuisine Créole and Française are on the menu. I opt for Colombo de Cabri which is a mildly spiced dish with grilled goat with the usual rice and salad accompaniments. Chocolat Fondant tops my meal off nicely. For mains Nicola takes the fish ‘court-bouillon’. It has too many bones to be enjoyable but her Banane Flambé seems to set her soul on fire. David doesn’t do desert but he starts off with accras and progresses unto the Grille Mixé. All in all it’s not the best meal and the service is noticeably slow and disjointed.

However, as we later ramble along the soft, moon lit shore, letting the gentle, warm waves lap at our feet we feel more content. Our satisfaction is ensured upon finding Américano Café, a Western-style bar, where Leffe and Stella Artois are our desired digestifs. Even though the sun is gone there are many midnight swimmers and mellow merry makers to be seen along this sandy stretch. We covet this cosy, carefree tranquillity and wonder if the tables were turned and we found ourselves on holiday in Martinique, by Diamant or Trinité, would we feel the same. I suppose it wouldn’t be a real holiday if we couldn’t covet a piece of paradise bliss like this. And I’m sure the locals it must see it as just another beach, another resort and another trading ground. To experience the real local life we’ll have to venture away from this quiet haven to explore the rougher heights of Guadeloupe, away from the old-time comforts and unhindered holiday happiness of Sainte-Anne.