My two initial private students, Eurielle and Kelli-Ann, are back with me this morning. Eurielle can’t stop yawning as we learn about rules in American High Schools and its like starting out again with Kelli-Ann as she’s so quiet. Madame Bonne tells me how much Eurielle’s English teacher appreciated me leaping about the classroom like a deranged Leprechaun sniffing out poitín. I tell Madame Bonne that that sort of energy exertion is unseen among students these days and that the whole concept of a language week, however positive, is quite a distraction from the continuous progress of teaching English. She agrees but states that the pupils are in need of a holiday and that the language week motivates both the pupils and the staff. I won’t have the girls until after the holidays but I Madame Bonne is on the lookout for accommodation for Nic and I so I’ll be in contact with her sooner rather than later.
Nic also had two lessons this morning. I’ve arranged to meet her in town for lunch but by the time I get in she has already eaten and is hopping off to another class. She has however bumped into Oliver who is once again a free man as his girlfriend Sophie is back in France after her holiday. He has little to say about their time here but from what I can gather they didn’t exactly bond either on the beach, in the boîte or in bed and while I decide what I’m having for lunch he’s on the internet either sending her at best update on his newfound freedom or at worst an ultimatum.
Alex and Lionel are soon seen strolling into Cyber Délisse. They’re here to take me away – to the Open Day. Alex is off-duty and is in his tracksuit bottoms but Lionel’s camouflage gear is really not so effective in this sleek, glass-topped, leather-seated queen scene. We lunch together on made-with-love ham rolls and tuna toasties. I point out the noisy Americans in the corner and the presenters of Martinique’s TV music show who are eating (or pretending to) at the table behind us. We’ve soon had our fill of ham and the beautiful people and so I become a somewhat compliant kidnap victim as I’m bundled into a van with Alex and Lionel. Oli must be writing a letter reclaiming back all the presents he has ever given Sophie because he stays in the cool gayness a while longer before hitting the beach and finally meeting up with Nic and David for beers in the Mayflower.
The French Army sure know how to pull off an Open Day. The only thing which isn’t on display is the living quarters but even at that if you know the right people you can get a free ti-punch on the recreational terrace. First off we track down Sebastian and Fix. Sebastian works with informatique. He’s at the digital hub which is milling with children playing something similar to Medal of Honour. An adjacent tent is full of youths playing tank racing video games. Benoit is lost somewhere among the mayhem. Fix is surprised to see me. “Quelque chose promis. Quelque chose fait,” I tell him. I also mention that his hat has been returned as promised. Fix’s fixation is weaponry and he beams from ear to ear with his nostrils flared as he explains how such-and-such a bazooka or rifle works.
The other highlights of the day have to be the buvettes. Actually, I don’t fall foul to my hosts’ predilection for midday boozing. That can wait. I do however get a taster of Tahitian culture as Lionel introduces me to the mess tent where two portly, tattooed Tahitians are strumming ukuleles while singing out their souls about love, dolphins and flower garlands. Down by the athletics’ track a mini checkpoint drama is unfolding as the army reserves re-act various scenarios involving smugglers, terrorists and law-abiding civilians. After that there’s an artillery display as cannons, flares and a variety of other powder and smoke producing weaponry are let off while tanks, trucks and jeeps tear around the terrain.
There are plenty of interactive activities for civilians to enjoy and there are plenty of civilians. Unfortunately both my bandy ankle and my lack of military money means that I don’t get to do the zip-wire, assault course, 4x4 excursion or even put on camouflage gear but the guys promise that they’ll try sort out some pretty prints and military makeup for me sometime in the future. There’s even a bouncy castle and other such amusements to entertain the throngs and in hindsight that swollen ankle probably saved me from doing more harm than good to my self-image as well as my self!
The Mountain Forces, the Air Force, the Marines, the Gendarmes, the Army Reserves and the Army have a plethora of stalls, tents and displays ranging from uniform parades and rescue tactics to machinery and equipment and from communication and technology to rations and recruitment.
The ultimate souvenir has to be my ration box. Ration de Combat Individuelle Rechauffable. French Individual Reheatable Combat Ration. It’s a pre-packaged cardboard box with a soldier’s food rations for 24 hours. It costs €17 but I get it for free with my subsequent free ti-punch at the recreational hangout. The dimension of the box is 6″ x 12″ x 2″ and it contains Menu No.3. I’m told there are 64 different menus; though if you’ve signed-up for a decade or two of military meals there would want to be some variety.
Blessed is she among men. Men who can cook that is; I don’t have to rely on my ration box for tonight’s meal as I’m invited to dine with the dudes. Since the base has been cleaned-up for the Open Day the BBQ is disposed off and so tonight’s cooking facilities are trusty gas stoves out on the open-air terrace. They lads use the same burgers as Nic and I but somehow they taste better turned into mince. Gwendal is the cook but he joins Oliver, Alex, Lionel, J.V and I for drinks before presenting us with his culinary cleverness: pasta and minced burger with onion and tomato garnish. It’s delicious on it’s own but its better with cheese, ketchup, mayonnaise and more rum. Sebastian, Benoit and Bertrand join us for post-dinner drinks. Bertrand has been to Ireland three times and I find out that he attended cultural exchange evenings in the library in the Iliac Centre about five years ago. It’s indeed a small world.
Fred, our neighbour, is 29 today but he texts to say that he’s too tired to venture out. The curse of old age. Nicola is somewhat depending on him to accompany her into town but instead she stays in for beers with John, our better neighbour. The army lads are on for hitting town so most of them head off to get ready while Oliver, Lionel and I strike camp. Oliver may not have had a physically draining week but he’s not in the mood for going out so he soon hops off to bed. Lionel shows me his snaps of St. Martin and his videos of the low-flying jets before joining the shaved, shirted, after-shaved lads and descending into town for music and madness.
No comments:
Post a Comment