Samedi 04.11.06 Homeward bound without a pound
We leave Dominica today – but first we have to pay our way. David and Nicola settle the tab at the downstairs bar while I sort out the accommodation. The reception is on the ground floor but it actually turns out to be Decima’s house. There’s a huge blob of a lady on the day-bed; though I’d say it’s her multipurpose bed, bath, lounger and whatever else.
Kelvin comes to pick us up. He didn’t promise to collect us last night as he wasn’t sure what kind of nasty state the night would leave him in. Though when we call him this morning he shakes off his stout head saying he’ll be there at 8,30. He is, and he brings Eminem with him this time. He was DJing all night and raves about the manic session. I tune out… I’m wondering if either of the others thought to check the taps before we left. David bunged the plughole last night and I don’t think he could get it back up this morning. Ah well, another bout of water works will only make the place more lush and less plush…hee-hee!
We don’t have any EC$ left so I fork out the US$11 I’ve been lugging around and we add in what extra shrapnel we can find. At the port however we’re in for a shock as we’ve to cough-up €21 each for the Tax Levy – every foreigner must do so. We use our remaining euros to wile away the time by playing David’s coin game. I’m the ultimate loser - which I thought was the aim, until David starts looking smug for being the first out after each go.
The boat is packed so we don’t get to sit together. Fat Albert is the film. Surprisingly enough it keeps everyone entertained throughout. It’s still playing when we reach Martinique but because the doors don’t open for ages everyone stays in their seats contently watching Bill Cosby and Co.
Our Martinique friend, Will, picks us up from the port. We stop at Rond Point to drop David home and later in Tivoli we welcome Will in for a drink. I try out my new Créyol phrases but since its Guadeloupe Créole it takes a few goes before Will catches on. He doesn’t stay long as he has other friends to visit – and plus we’ve run out of beer.
Nic pops on the washing and we then pop down to the local shop for provisions. We’re tired and tongue-tied. Nicola asks for a CaCa bar instead of a ChaCha one. The cashier passes no remark but Nicola is scarlet. I spy Tivolienne coffee on the shelves – it’s produced just down the road, and it has taken me this long to cop on to what it is. We trundle home with our cake, biscuits and beer. Arlette salutes us from the balcony overhead as we turn into our pad.
One really does need a holiday after a holiday but for now sleep will have to do.
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