Dis donc

My brain is officially mush. I was talking to someone in English the other day and managed to say ‘elle’ twice instead of ‘she’ as well as inserting ‘donc’ randomly into every third or fourth sentence. At taekwondo last week I was counting out some movements in Korean and I had to stop to explain something. When I started counting again I’d got as far as ‘four’ before I even realised I was speaking English. And when I couldn’t remember how to say ‘five’ in any language, including English, I got very embarrassed and tongue-tied and could only speak in snuffles and grunts for the next few minutes. I think it was just too much for my tiny yet highly convoluted brain to deal with. I’m hoping this is an essential transitional period of language learning but losing control of my English as well as my French is mildly disturbing to say the least.

I went on a boat trip yesterday. Courtney’s ‘proprietaire’, Alex, invited us both to a day-long tour of Martinique’s fortifications and geographical features on the Caribbean coast. Alex is a geographer and natural scientist, and a wealth of knowledge on all things to do with Martinique. The boat left Trois Islets at seven which meant a VERY early start for us all. But I got up extra early to make sure I had eaten a hearty breakfast. Tiredness mixed with hunger is a recipe for a very grumpy Lindsey and I wanted to make sure I enjoyed myself since it cost 35 Euros for the trip.

I needn’t have bothered getting up before the sun though as there was so much food provided during the day I didn’t have time to get hungry. We were given a huge baguette for (second) breakfast and then a rather large meal of Antillean specialities for lunch. There was goat, lambis (a shellfish which was a bit like whelk), a white fish which no one could tell me the name of, rice, igname (that’s yams to you and me) and red beans as well as a salad with morue (salted cod) and a fruit salad for dessert. They also gave us a snack in the afternoon – a choice between gateau de la confiture and quiche.

We were told all about the fortifications going north along the Caribbean coast, such as the various remaining battery walls, the forts (at Fort de France for example) and the city fortifications at St Pierre including a wall which still bears the scars of cannon ball fire from an attack in the 1600s. This was all explained by a man speaking French with a very strong West Indian accent. I’ve heard a slightly different accent here from time to time, for example they say ‘pén’ rather than ‘pain’ and ‘lot’ rather than ‘l’autre’ but this was the first time I’d heard such a strong accent as his. I had to keep reminding myself to listen to what he was actually saying instead of just relaxing and enjoying the lovely musical lilt of his voice.

After Alex had given his talk about Mount Pelée, the famous volcano, and its contribution to the formation of the Caribbean coastline, the boat moored at Le Prêcheur (so called because of a rock resembling a preacher which used to be there in the 1800s before it was eroded away by the sea) and we all trooped off the boat and onto waiting coaches which took us to Anse Céron. Once there we then had to squish onto a tiny bus, one step up from a charabanc (well it had a roof at least) to be taken on the most perilous and terrifying journey I’ve ever made. There were hairpin bends leading down to what looked like a bottomless pit of tropical forest every few hundred yards, and every time the bus had to go uphill it kept slipping backwards as the motor struggled to deal with our combined weight.

So when we finally reached Anse Couleuvre (anse means beach by the way) we all breathed a huge sigh of relief before trundling off into the forest to look at the ruins of a rum distillery that used to be there a hundred years ago or so.

The beach at Anse Couleuvre is AMAZING! It’s a truly tropical paradise – quite secluded and surrounded by tropical forest, it has black volcanic sand with palm trees stretching high over the edges and crystal clear water with little rocky coves dotted along the shore. It was worth risking my life on the Toy Town bus just to swim at that beach! And I’m definitely going back there when I finally get a car. On the way back to get the tiny bus, we were told it had broken down – in fact it had returned to Anse Céron backwards! So I was glad I missed out on that particular journey.

Back on the boat the staff were serving punch – creamy coconut punch, fruity ‘punch planteur’ and ti-punch (a mixture of rum, sugar and a chunk of lime). Courtney and I tried a ti-punch each but I found it a bit fiery and strong for the afternoon sun so after a couple of tentative sips I handed mine over to her to finish off and got a refreshing guava juice instead.

All the way home a DJ played biguines, mazoukas, and drum rhythms and music while people danced the Bélé, the traditional African style dance of Martinique which dates back to slavery times. Old ladies kicked off their shoes and hitched up their skirts to dance with young men and people dragged partners onto the dance floor to join in. I made sure to stay well back - It looked like good fun but I think I’d need to take a few lessons before being brave enough to dance in front of people.

And so I watched the sun setting over the sea as we sailed into Trois Islets. I felt like I had spent the day walking through a series of beautiful ‘Wish you were here’ postcards. It was a fantastic way to see more of the island. And 35 Euros well spent!