Mardi 31.10.06 Legless and topless
I wake up to the sound of drilling in my skull. First I think it’s due to the latest alcohol intake but I shook that off last night with the sand outside the door. There are actually renovations going on next door so it’s off to the corner café for peace and brekkie. The pain aux raisons and hot chocolate soothe the pain in my head and set me up for a day of beaching and bleaching.
David and Nicola head off on their diving date and I snuggle up under the shade of the tidal trees with my latest read, The Water Star. Nearby there’s a group of girls signing soulful songs in French and Créyol. The ocean is twinkling, the grains of sand are glistening in the sun and the waves are gently, but greedily, slurping away in the bay. It’s time to top up my tan so off with the bikini and out with the bare baps.
However, no sooner have I felt the first few rays creep across my chest I also feel the demented dripping from the rain clouds above. The sky darkens, the heavens heave and the rain pours. I make it to the reception just in time, escaping soggy soakage.
The sand around the reception area turns grey and lumpy with the rain. It boils away as the drops hop off it. It resembles the mixture I made for the Halloween brack; viscous and vile looking yet innocuous. It continues raining until the diving duo reappear - just in time for lunch. We wander down the now sunny strand and seat ourselves in a beachfront bistro. Chicken and chips are the way to go. The others tell all about the Trumpet fish and Coral they saw below the wild waves. www.tropicalys.com They got to snorkel and dive. The sea was a bit stormy and the talk about cumbersome cylinders nearly sending them in a comatose state doesn’t really sell it for me. I was content with my sun bathing and sudden baptism.
The others, who are staying in Saint-François, have ventured to Sainte-Anne for the afternoon. We meet Alex, Andy and Karla at the beach; Angela and Martin later return from their romantic ramble. It starts to rain again. David and I huddle under an umbrella while everyone else that is already wet heads for the sea. The beach soon dries up, as does the conversation. David runs off to find a pub to watch the Chelsea/Barcelona game and Nicola and I decide to browse around the market. Bags, watches and other wares are bought. Nicola’s also on a sea quest to top off her water world antics with a scuttle on a sea scooter. It’s too late, too pricey and too frivolous and she manages without another sea shot. Instead she heads to the beach to catch the last rays of the day while I head back to freshen up for the evening. A guy with a gold tooth overhears us at the jet-ski stand and invites us for drinks at his bar the following day. We don’t have the heart to tell him we’re off to Dominica tomorrow but we thank him and flash a grin and he beams back at us with his gold gnashers.
It’s almost Toussaint so David, Nic and I decide to take a peek at the town cemetery to see what’s taking place. Toussaint is celebrated on November 1st (All Saint’s Day) in France. It’s a time when people traditionally visit cemeteries to lay heather and chrysanthemums on graves. We assemble later that evening and make our way to the nearby cemetery. The tombs here have similar black and white chequered tiles like those at Morne-à-l’Eau, though despite the countless cars parked at the cemetery gates there doesn’t seem to be a soul in sight. There must be a service on and some freak has started cruising alongside us so we retreat to our own sanctuary to reflect on our pilgrimage so far.
The bar is quiet but we’re soon lost in our own engaging, lewd conversations. The barman offers up a plate of accras and we tear into them like cannibals. The hunger is indeed on us as we stagger back to Sainte-Anne. Américano Café cuisine fills the void but the food isn’t so good so we resort back to liquid fulfilment. The others are at the Kréyol Kolor bar on the beach so we join them for tipples and tunes. We ring in Karla’s birthday with another round and a rousing rendition of that well-known birthday ritual.
Ceri is also there. She just arrived in from Dominica where she was staying with a family friend. She gives us a few hints about what to do and what to dodge. They speak English in Dominica which will be a coo; although English is not always so easy to differentiate when non-natives are speaking it… Alex explained how during a Q&A session in Martinique a student tried to ask what her hobbies were but it came out sounding like he was asking why she was obese!
David, Nic and I have an early start tomorrow so there’s little confusion when we say our farewells and trundle back to bed. We’re careful not to leave another trail of sand behind us but I swear Nicola’s letting off smoke signals again. A traipsing tramp asks her for a cigarette and when she denies having any he says a little rhyme and then tries to charge her for his words of wisdom. Sleep is the only suggestion we need and so we melt into our malleable mattresses for a night of sweet slumber and soft snores (supposedly)…
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