Lundi 19.02.07 Back to my childhood
The biggest and best Carnaval celebrations are in Ducos for today’s Grande Parade. Costume wise Lundi Gras is the day of Pyjama Processions and the Mariage Burlesque when men dress as women and vice-versa. But of course anything goes. There are frilly thongs, sparkly wigs, grotesque make-up, fairy wings, tops hats and multi-coloured bandanas. And plenty of umbrellas. The bad weather is intermittent but it doesn’t quell the Carnaval vibes as musical groups, dance troops, Carnaval queens, fancy dress processions, giant puppets and satirical floats take to the streets of Ducos for the afternoon; even Ségo and Sarko get a look in as two disguised figures fighting for an armchair.
I had wanted to dress up as a leprechaun in keeping with the male-female element of the day but in the end I opt for traditional Créole wear. I did put on my little brown suit, my knee-length white socks, black buckled brogues and spangly green top hat but with too much time on our hands to try on our ensembles and too much sweat on my brow due to the heat and multiple layers I decide to go mad with madras instead. It’s just like being eight again and delving into a dressing-up box. Nic and I make a right pair of old madras maids in long multi-coloured chequered créole skirts, matching scarves and chunky gold jewellery, and the umbrella is an essential old nag element.
Chef Masaille is dressed-up but not in any sort of costume. He has brought some rhum and sugar syrup for some traditional pre-Carnaval drinks – any excuse! We arrive at Ducos around 15,00. The whole motorway is packed with parked cars along the verge. We really have no option but to park about two miles from one of the entrances but as luck would have it we take a chance and reverse up a slip-road leaving us a few hundred metres from the entrance. We get a few looks as we weave backwards up the hill but there are not many people around and the security men are too far around the corner to see us, and even at that they probably wouldn’t pass much care to comment on our careless careering.
The parade is heaving, loud and wet but it’s vibrant and lively and everyone’s full of Carnaval cheer. People pose for pictures as if it’s going out of fashion – well some people’s costumes are. Every now and again the rain pours down and hundreds of umbrellas go up. The spectators in the apartments surrounding the centre must have an excellent view but even from our street level viewpoint we can see most of the action. I spot a few children from school who are also observing the parade. Anaïs and Lilian, two of Arlette’s grand-children, also pass by.
Ducos was Gethin’s hood and we think of him as we return back to the car. I bet that if he was still here we’d have the best seats in the house for the day. We consider paying little Foxy a visit as we pass over Route du Tunnel but in order to avoid the worst of the traffic we have to abandon our abduction plans. The parade is Fort-de-France is still going strong when we get in but the traffic is already mounting so we only cruise for a few minutes before heading for the hills. Some of the floats from Ducos are already converging in the capital. I even see Sarko and Ségo skulking along a back street arme-in-arm.
We have Oliver over for dinner and after our feed we all assemble on my bed to look at the day’s snaps. The others ring asking if we want to head out. Bed is the best option as tomorrow we’ll be tackling the mighty mountain Pelée. With the sleep-over session done and Oliver off home I climb into bed thinking of the steeper climb which lies ahead.
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