I’m awake at the crack of dawn. The mosquitoes are thankfully still away on vacation.
Today is Armistice Day and it’s also the 105th Anniversary of the eruption of Mont Pelée. I text Pierre-Loïc to see what he’s up to but he’s just relaxing as his work on the Chien Fèr is done. There are celebrations in Saint Pierre today – it’s the Van dan Vwèl - so J.P and I decide to hit the former capital. Everyone else has the same idea. True to the French striking style the free navettes from Fort-de-France to Saint Pierre have been cancelled so everyone is making their way North in their cars. By the time we hit Carbet the roads are chocabloc and we’re fortunate to even get parked in the shade by the beach. The trek into town is just about bearable. I’ve no pity for the poor souls in their cars trying to park as close to the action as possible.
The midday sun is beating down so we hit one of the many the snowball stands before browsing around the stalls and market place. There’s live music and dancing and there is plenty of activity on the sea with colourful yoles, swanky yachts and a pirate ship from the film Pirates of the Caribbean. Unfortunately we’ve arrived too late to take a trip on the ship but we participate in the Trempage which is a communal meal where everyone eats off the table with their hands. Volunteers have been preparing the meal for ages and when it’s ready it resembles something unspeakable but it actually tastes very good. Bread, peas, potatoes, bananas, peppers, flaked fish and breaded chicken are added bit by bit before the sauce is served and everyone takes to the table. You take a bit of what you want, mix it around in your little spot on the table and scoop it up. More snowballs are in order so J.P and I settle in the shade to watch the locals dancing. There are some jazzy tunes and I’m soon dreaming about our upcoming trip to St. Lucia.
I’m eating chi-chi in the market when a little kid bumps into me. Her mother, Blandine, works with me in Chateauboeuf. Ceri and Alex have also made the trip down to Saint Pierre. On the way home I spy Fran and Bex; they look as if they’re off to the beach.
We find the car, burn our hands on the handles and bid farewell to Mother Mary who seems to have morphed into a penguin; wishful thinking on her behalf on this scorcher of a day.
Pierre-Loïc calls me to see what plans there are for tonight but J.P has just headed home with his washing and Nic, Dorian and I have already made plans to go out for dinner. We go to La Pause at Point du Bout. Service is slow but the Americans keep us entertained as we ear-wig on their conversations. We can’t bear to stay around for more stories about spitting out sardine bones and pottery classes for kids so we head to La Cabane for drinks and drugs. Dorian is part of the navy drug’s squad so he fills us in on all the newest revelations and raids in the Caribbean. Some guys got 400 years each for a recent cocaine seizure worth over 5 billion euros! Sometimes the drugs don’t work.
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