Eurobean - samedi, 12.05.07

Samedi 12.05.07 Eurovision in the Caribbean

Bacon. Beans. Omelette. Toast. I haven’t had such a fry-up since… Man. It has actually been so long ago I’ve forgotten. No. Hang on. I’m reaching into the choco-crispy compound which is my brain… It was St. Martin at Easter. Now that was some buffet breakfast but this one hits the spot too especially as it’s not anticipated.

Our hosts are a weird pair. They’re locals but they spend their time between here, the U.K and Canada. The lady, Ruth, basically accuses me of bringing the ants with me – whatever lady! The man of the house is more sympathetic though he’s slow and a bit dithery as he comes to the table every other minute to either rearrange the placemeats or to place some condiment within our reach. Nicam and Monika from London are our dining buddies. They’re bubbly, chatty girls on the tear around the Caribbean. They’re off to Martinique, Dominica and Guadeloupe next and then Nicam is soloing around South America until the New Year.

Although we’re tempted to stay in and watch Love Actually and dumb American commercials we hide the remote and head for Reduit Beach at Rodney Bay. We get deck-chairs and lounge for a while before the local salesmen come a-knockin. I almost get tricked into holding some leaf ornament. Nicola haggles with Michael the Coconut Carver and she buys a birdfeeder. Reduit’s not the best beach ever but the bay would indeed be a perfect place to learn how to wind-surf as it’s so calm without being totally breeze-less. It’s not long however until the water is churned up by a local vendor in his floating fruit gondola, a fleet of jet-skis and two sun-burnt girlies bumping around the bay on inflatable rings with the help of a powerboat.

St. Lucia is so small that we bump into Fran and Bex again. Bex is off to Barbados tomorrow and won’t be returning to Martinique so we arrange to meet the girls that night for a farewell dinner. Some locals want to bring us out too but we fob them off and fly off to the mall before going home to freshen up for the festival.

Stephen is one of those people who says they’re ready when you call but once you’re at the door ready to pick them up their “I’ll just be a minute” becomes a lot longer… This is his stunt all weekend. Today he’s an extra twenty minutes. Nic and I make bets to keep ourselves sane. Of course he has to buy something in the mall on the way to Pigeon Island so we spend another half an hour in the parking lot keeping our eyes peeled for him as he’s also as blind as a bat. We’ve arranged to meet the girls around 20,00 and we don’t think Stephen will be too happy to hear we’ll be leaving -the festival an hour early but we pose a phone-call once he gets into the car so he hears snippets of our mock conversation. Hee-hee…

The Jazz Festival is ace. The weather is perfect. The music is unobtrusive when necessary and lively when needed. It’s not packed out with people either so everyone has a patch of earth to call their own for the day and there’s ample stomping ground when the tunes start hopping. Festival atmosphere is chilled – just like the cool-box we’ve brought with plenty of drinks and snacks to keep us going all day. We’re comfortably close to the main stage but just outside the pit area. There’s also a huge screen to the right so we get close-ups of the acts with the flick of an eyeball.

There’s one act we want to see but when he appears it’s better to glance at him in his miniscule form. It’s Steven Segal. He has changed a lot from his movie days. He’s playing lead electric guitar with a group called Thunderbox and although he’s musically and vocally accomplished he’s not too easy on the eye. I must admit that I don’t know much about the other acts though I do enjoy what they have to offer. The main man, Al Jarreau, is a wonderful warbler but I begin to wish he’d just sing his songs in one style instead of constantly throwing his multiple personalities around the place. George Benson keeps the balance and has the crowd moving with well-known international tunes from Springsteen to Elton John. Norman Brown and Gerald Albright also make an appearance but Will Downing is in hospital which is unfortunate.

Pigeon Island National Landmark is the venue for this part of the festival. A red pillar-box post-box welcomes you at the entrance today and you follow the chiffon cones up the hill to the huge inflatable Heineken bottle until you have to decide where to go next. There are usually hikes and trails and historical landmarks to see but this weekend the steel-band band-stand, the souvenir stalls, the make-shift bars, food shacks and promotional stalls are on the festival map. There’s also a beach by the festival’s designated smoking area and Nic and I escape there to watch the sunset and to take a breather. We met an English couple in the B&B who are in St. Lucia for a friend’s wedding – the ceremony will take place at Pigeon Island but hopefully not amidst irate roadies and a semi-dismantled stage!

By the time 20,00 comes round we’re starting to feel it’s time to make a move – Stephen was reluctant to go any earlier. Even when we’ve picked up the girls he insists on going home to change. The girls are all glammed-up. Nic and I are respectable but we could do with shaking off some of the hay from our hair and my giant sparkly Murphy’s hat has to go too. We head to Buzz at Rodney Bay for dinner. It’s posh nosh but the place is pretty laid back. Fran and Bex are like jittery kids as they decide about what to eat. We end up being the last to leave and Stephen pulls our the stops by paying for the vino – I suppose he was only too glad to spend the evening with four lovely ladies! We drop him home and by the time we cruise by Glen Castle the girls are waning too.

Nic and I head to Gros Ilets for some cheap beers and some local flavour. Some guy tells us he’s going to wash, err…watch the car but we politely tell him it’s not necessary. Stray, un-spayed dogs and puppies roam about the streets outside the ramshackle bar. The rain comes once again but at least we were spared all day. Some Martiniquans are lurking around and of course they’re up to their usual tricks though a bit of English sends them packing. The Piton Beer soon sends us on our way too…