samedi 23.12.06 Crayola car
It may be the start of the holidays but Nicola and I will have to wait until tomorrow for a decent lie-in as we’ve to be in town for 8,00 this morning to pick-up our rental car. Renting a car here is like buying a pig in a poke as you never know what condition it’ll be in. What other country in the world would have the following clause written into the contract: Do not park under coconut trees as any damage incurred by fallen coconuts is not covered by the franchise. Our Renault Modus has a few scrapes and the passenger window doesn’t go down but apart from that it’s a cheery childproof car. If Crayola made cars this would probably be their latest family-of-five model; chunky and robust and painted in a silver colour which doesn’t show up the marks and scuffs. We’re fortunate to even get a car as a few Germans and Finnish tourists are turned away from Europcar before going next door to Budget. Around 10,00 we’re lead off to the Point Simon parking block to move our motor.
Christophe is with us. He’s on holidays too and no doubt he’ll be hanging out for the next while; there’ll be a more than one spare tyre in this car over the holidays! Christophe is a sweetheart. He has taken to doing impressions lately (Mario, Ying and Knacker), and he has certainly made an impression on Nicola. He’s a gentle guy with a buff, tough exterior and a calm, patient core – a bit like our Modus really. But although he seems to weather wear well on the outside you can tell there’s something amiss. Today he drops the bombshell that he’ll be leaving two weeks early. He’s not privy to his future location but he’ll most likely be in some dusty, distant, sprawling war-zone for months to come.
From one grande surface to another, we head to Hyper U for a seasonal shop. €120 gets us a load of liquids, some snacks and a turkey. It’s going to be an expensive weekend for Nic and I between car rental, festive food buying and rent payment.
We plan to spend the rest of the day looking for accommodation in Trois-Ilets, for the final leg of our visitors stay. However, once we’ve deposited our provisions at home in Post-Colon we find ourselves back on the high road; heading in the direction of Redoute where the Army barracks is located. Christophe’s best friend, Manu, (as in Emmanuel), is working all week on patrol at the Commiserat. He may have a neat little gatehouse to himself, instead of living with the rest of the unit, but it’s a lonely life waiting to buzz someone through the gates and so our drop off becomes a stop off. Christophe has bought some things for him but before we can enter the barracks we have to get the all clear at the main entrance. Armed with our pass and our charge on Christophe’s ass we enter foreign territory as Christophe’s foreign relations. Christophe points out all the landmarks as we cruise along the winding driveway. There’s a chapel, a cinema, a library, a pool and lots of high-rise buildings. Christophe gestures in the direction of his regiment as we turn in the opposite direction towards the Commiserat. He hops out at the patrol portal and the massive, groaning gate shudders along the grate allowing us to enter.
We soon find common ground with our soldier hosts. Martinique, its inhabitants and its incongruity, seem to irk them as much as it does us. These Army men may indeed be kindred spirits but the one thing in Martinique that we see no problem with is also highly spirited; rum. It’s lunchtime. Manu and Christophe set the table and light the BBQ for a festive feed. We feast on chicken, sausages, salami, honey-roasted ham and fishy Hawaiian salad before indulging in some ice-cream bûche. There’s an assortment of rum on hand; from the blanc Trois Rivières assortment to seasonal orange schrub and Cristal Coco which Manu informs us is like kissing a lady. Of course all the guys are soon sipping their Cristal Coco due to a lack of real lip action on location. We soon learn that their female accomplices are closer than expected. Nelly the Elephant is keeping Mario company while his poor girlfriend is in Paris pining for him. We’re informed about other love liaisons but we’ll have to keep them under our beret!
Nicola purchased a camouflage-style cap to go with her bikini and boyfriend. However, Christophe informs us that a French army cap would have a squarer peak and would have a closer camouflage pattern than the American one she bought. This fashion faux pas really doesn’t matter much as everyone’s acting out-of-character: Manu has turned into a maniac knife-wielder; Chris is as bent as a cuillère, Chevalier is a knight-turned-fireman; Fred the Fairy is waving his baguette magique about the place; Nicola is a con; and I’m making my soldiers stand to attention as I don my beret.
Manu has a super laugh and a wicked, killer smile. Fred is a quiet, considerate chap but he often comes out from his sensible shell. Chevalier does dead-pan humour so well he has us all cracking up all evening; poor Mario gets the brunt of it. Lights. Camera. Action ! His wit is so effective and effervescent that we don’t notice the Commander approach. Manu is motioned around the corner. Chris swipes the beret off my head as he mumbles something about Prison Break – not the television series but the serious disciplinary action which could follow for breaking rules. However, the Commander also has a visitor so he doesn’t do much more than give Manu some cautionary army advice. The guys joke that they’re disciplined like children here; being threatened with day stays in their rooms. Prison Break, however, is more severe; 40 days in a cell would not be laughed at.
We eventually decide to make tracks. Nic, Chris and I clamber into the Crayola car and head for Trois-Ilets. We take the scenic route from Diamant, up to Anse d’Arlet, and through Anse l’Ane before hitting Anse Mitan. We cruise around looking for accommodation and find ourselves at L’Imperial Village. A tree-lined drive welcomes us. However, there seems to be a Christmas party on here and so the tree-lined drive is also lined with hundreds of cars and people carrying presents the size of small refrigerators. We find a parking spot around the back of the bungalows and Chris minds the motor while Nic and I explore. We mingle with the crowds and so it’s easy to have a good gawk at the amenities. Nice pool. Cool bar. Beach access. It’s a bit pricey though but we weave our way past the buffet before returning to Chris. He has been a bit quiet since we left the barracks but the boudin and quiche brighten him up a bit.
Our next stop is L’Auberge Anse Mitan. It’s on the waterfront and although it seems a bit stuffy, musty even, we decide to take it as it’s reasonably priced and reasonably nice. We linger by the beach for a while avec les pieds dans l’eau but it’s soon time to go. Before we head however, we get to test out our car’s durability as we’re involved in a different type of gate crashing to that at L’Imperial Village. Thankfully the posterior is made from the finest quality malleable plastic. Chris’ heavy-duty hands mould it back into place in no time – and our hearts are also rapidly restored to their natural position.
We get home in time for tea; courtesy of me. We dine on the terrace watching the sun set. Chris gasps at the mess on the dining table but he tells me that a messy person is connected in their mind. What person, in their right mind, would put on Frosty the Snowman, or talk about Carnivore Chicken or Night Witch, or do a sketch titled Mario the Xmas Tree? Well, you only have one guess and there’s only one answer: Les Trois Mousquetaires. Its trivia time and Chris informs us that the longest word in French is unconstitutionally – anticonstitutionnellement. Phew! That’s 25 letters long. What’s the longest word in English? Smiles. There’s a mile between the first and the last letter.
There are only 10 miles between us and the barracks. We drop Chris back to base before we have a drop of J&B… Jumpy&Boisterous. Joyful&Brilliant. Juicy&Bountiful. That’s the way the night’s going for us. We’re in no state to venture out even though both Will and Mario send invitations our way. Will’s either calling to tell us that Edith’s party is off or awful. And Mario is nuts; Coconuts. It was this time last week we went out to the club in Rivière Salée. It was a good night but we’re too wrecked, and too broke, and too broken to head out.
It may be the start of the holidays but Nicola and I will have to wait until tomorrow for a decent lie-in as we’ve to be in town for 8,00 this morning to pick-up our rental car. Renting a car here is like buying a pig in a poke as you never know what condition it’ll be in. What other country in the world would have the following clause written into the contract: Do not park under coconut trees as any damage incurred by fallen coconuts is not covered by the franchise. Our Renault Modus has a few scrapes and the passenger window doesn’t go down but apart from that it’s a cheery childproof car. If Crayola made cars this would probably be their latest family-of-five model; chunky and robust and painted in a silver colour which doesn’t show up the marks and scuffs. We’re fortunate to even get a car as a few Germans and Finnish tourists are turned away from Europcar before going next door to Budget. Around 10,00 we’re lead off to the Point Simon parking block to move our motor.
Christophe is with us. He’s on holidays too and no doubt he’ll be hanging out for the next while; there’ll be a more than one spare tyre in this car over the holidays! Christophe is a sweetheart. He has taken to doing impressions lately (Mario, Ying and Knacker), and he has certainly made an impression on Nicola. He’s a gentle guy with a buff, tough exterior and a calm, patient core – a bit like our Modus really. But although he seems to weather wear well on the outside you can tell there’s something amiss. Today he drops the bombshell that he’ll be leaving two weeks early. He’s not privy to his future location but he’ll most likely be in some dusty, distant, sprawling war-zone for months to come.
From one grande surface to another, we head to Hyper U for a seasonal shop. €120 gets us a load of liquids, some snacks and a turkey. It’s going to be an expensive weekend for Nic and I between car rental, festive food buying and rent payment.
We plan to spend the rest of the day looking for accommodation in Trois-Ilets, for the final leg of our visitors stay. However, once we’ve deposited our provisions at home in Post-Colon we find ourselves back on the high road; heading in the direction of Redoute where the Army barracks is located. Christophe’s best friend, Manu, (as in Emmanuel), is working all week on patrol at the Commiserat. He may have a neat little gatehouse to himself, instead of living with the rest of the unit, but it’s a lonely life waiting to buzz someone through the gates and so our drop off becomes a stop off. Christophe has bought some things for him but before we can enter the barracks we have to get the all clear at the main entrance. Armed with our pass and our charge on Christophe’s ass we enter foreign territory as Christophe’s foreign relations. Christophe points out all the landmarks as we cruise along the winding driveway. There’s a chapel, a cinema, a library, a pool and lots of high-rise buildings. Christophe gestures in the direction of his regiment as we turn in the opposite direction towards the Commiserat. He hops out at the patrol portal and the massive, groaning gate shudders along the grate allowing us to enter.
We soon find common ground with our soldier hosts. Martinique, its inhabitants and its incongruity, seem to irk them as much as it does us. These Army men may indeed be kindred spirits but the one thing in Martinique that we see no problem with is also highly spirited; rum. It’s lunchtime. Manu and Christophe set the table and light the BBQ for a festive feed. We feast on chicken, sausages, salami, honey-roasted ham and fishy Hawaiian salad before indulging in some ice-cream bûche. There’s an assortment of rum on hand; from the blanc Trois Rivières assortment to seasonal orange schrub and Cristal Coco which Manu informs us is like kissing a lady. Of course all the guys are soon sipping their Cristal Coco due to a lack of real lip action on location. We soon learn that their female accomplices are closer than expected. Nelly the Elephant is keeping Mario company while his poor girlfriend is in Paris pining for him. We’re informed about other love liaisons but we’ll have to keep them under our beret!
Nicola purchased a camouflage-style cap to go with her bikini and boyfriend. However, Christophe informs us that a French army cap would have a squarer peak and would have a closer camouflage pattern than the American one she bought. This fashion faux pas really doesn’t matter much as everyone’s acting out-of-character: Manu has turned into a maniac knife-wielder; Chris is as bent as a cuillère, Chevalier is a knight-turned-fireman; Fred the Fairy is waving his baguette magique about the place; Nicola is a con; and I’m making my soldiers stand to attention as I don my beret.
Manu has a super laugh and a wicked, killer smile. Fred is a quiet, considerate chap but he often comes out from his sensible shell. Chevalier does dead-pan humour so well he has us all cracking up all evening; poor Mario gets the brunt of it. Lights. Camera. Action ! His wit is so effective and effervescent that we don’t notice the Commander approach. Manu is motioned around the corner. Chris swipes the beret off my head as he mumbles something about Prison Break – not the television series but the serious disciplinary action which could follow for breaking rules. However, the Commander also has a visitor so he doesn’t do much more than give Manu some cautionary army advice. The guys joke that they’re disciplined like children here; being threatened with day stays in their rooms. Prison Break, however, is more severe; 40 days in a cell would not be laughed at.
We eventually decide to make tracks. Nic, Chris and I clamber into the Crayola car and head for Trois-Ilets. We take the scenic route from Diamant, up to Anse d’Arlet, and through Anse l’Ane before hitting Anse Mitan. We cruise around looking for accommodation and find ourselves at L’Imperial Village. A tree-lined drive welcomes us. However, there seems to be a Christmas party on here and so the tree-lined drive is also lined with hundreds of cars and people carrying presents the size of small refrigerators. We find a parking spot around the back of the bungalows and Chris minds the motor while Nic and I explore. We mingle with the crowds and so it’s easy to have a good gawk at the amenities. Nice pool. Cool bar. Beach access. It’s a bit pricey though but we weave our way past the buffet before returning to Chris. He has been a bit quiet since we left the barracks but the boudin and quiche brighten him up a bit.
Our next stop is L’Auberge Anse Mitan. It’s on the waterfront and although it seems a bit stuffy, musty even, we decide to take it as it’s reasonably priced and reasonably nice. We linger by the beach for a while avec les pieds dans l’eau but it’s soon time to go. Before we head however, we get to test out our car’s durability as we’re involved in a different type of gate crashing to that at L’Imperial Village. Thankfully the posterior is made from the finest quality malleable plastic. Chris’ heavy-duty hands mould it back into place in no time – and our hearts are also rapidly restored to their natural position.
We get home in time for tea; courtesy of me. We dine on the terrace watching the sun set. Chris gasps at the mess on the dining table but he tells me that a messy person is connected in their mind. What person, in their right mind, would put on Frosty the Snowman, or talk about Carnivore Chicken or Night Witch, or do a sketch titled Mario the Xmas Tree? Well, you only have one guess and there’s only one answer: Les Trois Mousquetaires. Its trivia time and Chris informs us that the longest word in French is unconstitutionally – anticonstitutionnellement. Phew! That’s 25 letters long. What’s the longest word in English? Smiles. There’s a mile between the first and the last letter.
There are only 10 miles between us and the barracks. We drop Chris back to base before we have a drop of J&B… Jumpy&Boisterous. Joyful&Brilliant. Juicy&Bountiful. That’s the way the night’s going for us. We’re in no state to venture out even though both Will and Mario send invitations our way. Will’s either calling to tell us that Edith’s party is off or awful. And Mario is nuts; Coconuts. It was this time last week we went out to the club in Rivière Salée. It was a good night but we’re too wrecked, and too broke, and too broken to head out.
No comments:
Post a Comment