Jenny from the block - mercredi, 13.06.07

Mercredi 13.06.07 Jenny from the block

It’s a good job I post my Blogs well after I’ve written them. Otherwise I think my mother would be over here this afternoon to pull Nicola and I out of the ghetto which is becoming Anse Mitan. Only last weekend I spied a guy skulking along the beach with a knife in his hand; I’m sure it was just used to cut up mangoes – not a man. However, today the bay and the beach are swarming with gendarmes as there were some unsavoury fireworks last night just opposite the beach parking lot. The scene of the crime was a local resto-pizzeria called “La Folie en tête”. The name’s somewhat ironic. Tomorrow’s headlines will read: Tout près du meurtre a l’Anse Mitan. The gendarmes scan the beaches, float about in their little blue and white boat and send two divers out into the depths to find the flung flingue. Of course the sight of hot, flustered, uniformed gendarmes only brings Nic and I out to observe the action.

It’s Nic’s last day and we plan to hit the water before heading to some watering-holes. Mr. Turtle and Mr. Mango are our instructors at the jet-ski centre. We’re jet-set ladies at this stage but we seem to merit a more precise induction for our randonnée to Anse Noire and Anse Dufour. There’s another couple with us; the guy looks old enough to be the girl’s father. I know Father’s Day here is coming up but I don’t think father-daughter relations like that are tolerated anywhere!

The couple are let loose on one another and Nic and I are let loose on the ocean. The waves are monstrous. Every time we glide over a through we either splash-land in another one or get creamed on a crest. At one point there’s no stopping the spray hitting us every time we rev but Mr. Turtle tells us to keep the power on irregardless. If the aim of jet-skiing was to bash the motor as much as possible Nic and I would be pros. It’s hard going topping 40mph but with Mr Turtle’s antics and our aimless careering we have a blast – and extremely sore arms.

Back at the centre Mr Mango offers us a free ride on the pédalos, and of course some mangoes from the fruit-spitting tree overhead the office. Nic and I watch the gendarmes intensely before drifting off. We cut the rotors to have a little sieste and to take in the view but we soon find ourselves in the shadow of a boat; thankfully it’s anchored so it’s not going anywhere fast.

After all our water manoeuvres we make our way to the beach for a dip. The divers are getting out of the water at the jetty. They strip off. They don’t seem to have found a flingue or mango carving knife but we find the sight very interesting indeed!

Nic’s in a packing frenzy once we get home. Even though I’ve another two weeks to work on my soon-to-be enviable tan I’ve already sifted through a few bits and bobs as I don’t like the last-minute panic which sees you chucking out some important item in the bag-making madness. I settle down to finish off my Shamrock Certificates and by the time I’m done it’s already time to put on the finery and go dining.

But first Nic sits me down with a whiskey in both hands. Nic é Ruth has finally been produced. The pictures are priceless and the memories are irreplaceable. It’s a great gift. Thankyou J

We invite Benoit to come dine with us at La Langouste. The mosquitoes eat more than we do but La Playa’s cocktails soon fill us up. Dominique, who hosted the fashion show last week, is out and about with her hairy mates. They invite us to an upcoming fashion show in Cap 110 and invite us to participate. It’s a Miss Harley Davidson Show. She has to repeat it five times before Benoit informs me that its motorbikes, leather and bearded blokes that’ll be on the menu that night.

Bea and her man Bruno are supposed to join us tonight. We’re to meet them at La Pancha. There’s a big birthday bash on. The staff seem weary and non-compliant so it’s no surprise this is our first time here. Some little kid steals the show by giving everyone cocktail parasols. Bea’s off to Ireland just before me. Her boyfriend will follow a few months later but this indeterminate amount of time is exactly that. Watch this space. Bea is 27 and Benoit inadvertently makes some comment about her approaching, and passing, the perfect age/condition opportunity for having a baby. Unbeknownst to him she is pregnant. She says nothing. She just munches on cashew nuts and pesters the waiter for the umpteenth time to take an order for a pecan and pistachio ice-cream. The big birthday boys have eaten all the provisions so we just get in more drinks before floating back to Benoit’s gaff for a parting gargle and Nic’s third smoke of the day!