Saturday, July 5, 2008

Brrr... it's chilly in St Lucia (in the highly air conditioned internet cafe - ha fooled you!)

The beaches here are beautiful – postcard style golden white sand, blue skies, turquoise crystal clear water, and of course palm trees all over the place. However, the view is often spoilt by sunburnt chavs and fat Americans. I thought I’d be glad to hear English spoken again but it’s actually quite irritating to hear the inane chatter of fools. I had to endure a middle-aged Cockney woman and her daughter performing the whole of a Little Britain sketch in the supermarket yesterday. Ugh.

This island is clearly a much poorer place than Martinique. Whereas Martinique is officially a part of France (an overseas department – or an extra floating county if you like) St Lucia is an independent nation within the Commonwealth. And so many more Lucian locals make their living out of ripping off, hassling or generally intimidating tourists here than their Martiniquan counterparts. Example – as we came out of a restaurant the other night a man hurried over to our rented car and gave it a quick few wipes with a dirty rag before demanding ‘at least five dollars’ for his unwanted, and frankly pointless efforts. Another, more scary incident was when a man shoved his hands through the car window, eying the car keys, to demand money for having given us some quite unnecessary directions through a three street town.

So apart from the pretty beaches St Lucia’s not a particularly pleasant place to be. I feel guilty for having enough money to have come here, but not enough money to hand out five dollars to anyone who asks. I feel guilty that I live in a country where the cheapest food you can get is at McDonalds, rather than one where McDonalds costs twice as much as everything else, and I feel scared to go out at night because of the high level of robberies and bag snatchings and the generally hostile vibe that I’m feeling. We had lunch in a scruffy canteen the other day (we’re avoiding the shiny plastic tourist areas as much as possible) and paid the equivalent of four pounds for three large and tasty meals. But whenever we go to somewhere like that I feel as if all the eyes that are on us (and there are many) are thinking “Why don’t you go back to your big hotel with the massive gates and security guards? What are you doing in our bit?” ...maybe I’m just being paranoid but I’m certainly not feeling as welcome here as I did in Martinique.

Having said all that we’ve managed to have some fun here too. We went to the volcano and covered ourselves with hot sulphurous mud and then showered it off in a hot waterfall, we went to the cinema last night which was like stepping back in time to the 50’s what with the decor and the people cheering and applauding the film, we’ve had lots of delicious food and we’re staying in a huge posh house. So I shouldn’t really be moaning. Can’t wait to get home though!

Saturday, June 28, 2008

And now... the end is near...



As I found out on my way here, exceeding baggage allowance can be quite costly. But never fear - I’ve got a marvellous device for weighing luggage. It’s a scale with a hook from which you suspend your bag. And it’s great!

...unless of course the bag slips off the hook and you punch yourself in the mouth with the scale, puncturing your lower lip and chipping your teeth and causing your mouth to swell up to three times its normal size...

So yeah, I’ve now got a big hole in my lip, a slightly sicky, faint feeling and annoying crunchy bits of blood-flavoured teeth in my mouth. I’ve got so much to do today – the taekwondo grading is at 5pm and before then I need to have packed, cleaned the fridge, cleaned the loo, cleaned the windows, cleaned ...well, everything. But now I feel sick and incapacitated and have been forced to sit down and have a rest. DAMN YOU WEAK AND FEEBLE BODY!

Oh well, I suppose it gives me the opportunity to catch you up on my last few days...

First things first I must tell you about the cutest stray kitten ever in the whole world! On our way into the cinema the other day we saw a tiny miaow bag squeaking around under the cars in the car park. We were a bit worried about it but thought its mum would be around somewhere and that we should probably just leave it alone. But then on our way out a couple of hours later it was still there, and had soggy paws and was sneezing and was just too cute to leave alone any longer. I picked it up and took it to the car park security man who basically told me I should take it home or leave it to die. DIE??! The tiny cute kitten? Noooooooo! So I started frantically texting round everyone I know who’s staying here or who lives here asking, begging them to adopt a squeaky friend. I finally got a response from Nelta, whose granny was looking for a kitten. So we took it home for the night, fed it and played with it, and then reluctantly gave it away the next morning.

I had my official ‘last day at school’ yesterday, although the last few days have all had a very ‘end of term’ feeling, what with the concerts and performances, the Abolition d’Esclavage exhibition, the cake tasting session and the distinct lack of children in school. (They don’t have attendance officers here and it seems some kids and parents start their summer holidays whenever they feel like it.)

Last week on my way into a class, one of the kids was waiting outside the door for me with a blindfold. He guided me into the room where I was greeted by questions from the other kids, like - What are your hobbies? Where do you live? What’s your favourite colour? And so on. And then they made me taste and smell fruits and spices and guess what they were. And I got presents! That was a lovely surprise.

And yesterday I got another surprise in Mr Thimon’s class. I’d spent the last few weeks working really hard with these kids on a song they performed at the concert – the Jungle Boogie Woogie. They did an amazing job with a lot of complicated vocabulary, and they had costumes and masks and danced and played drums. It was great! Anyway I had developed quite a soft spot for this class, and so when I arrived for my last lesson and saw there were only two kids there I must admit I felt a tiny bit sad. But just as the three of us were settling down to play Bingo, about fifteen others burst through the door shouting; “Surprise!”

And they sat me in a chair in the middle of the room and lined up around me, singing a song about having a safe journey home, and that they would miss me. And then some of them played traditional drums and others danced the Bèlè while they sang something in créole. I had to really work hard not to cry! It was so touching. And then they gave me some gifts – a créole recipe book, a class photo which I’d forgotten I was in, some jewellery and lots of cards and kisses.

I also managed to drop a sufficient number of hints about how a school uniform tee shirt would be a great souvenir for a teacher to dig one out for me. He looked a bit embarrassed as he explained the only one he could find was age 10, but I ran into the loo immediately and changed into it to prove that it was the perfect size for me. And it was!

And so we’re leaving on Monday. Jessica’s mum is picking us up at 5am to take us to the port. We’ll be in St Lucia for ten days and then back in the UK on July 11th. I’m feeling strangely sad... I think it might be very odd to go back to a grey northern climate after all these brilliant colours, sounds and smells.

So please will someone make sure the sun’s switched on for when we get back?

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Madinina, tu me manqueras...

The internet's being a bit unpredictable again so I'll type this fast and slap it online ASAP.

I'm just putting the finishing touches to a pair of shorts I'm making out of lovely yellow Madras cloth. I've never made any clothes before so frankly they're a bit crap. But they took hours to make so I'm determined to love them whether they're avant garde or a pile of poo. What do you think?

I'm beginning to get bored with the number of times a day I think; 'I can't believe I'm leaving in x days' now ...but I can't believe I'm leaving in fifteen days! I'm very happy to be coming home - I can see everyone I've missed so much over the last year, go for a curry and fish and chips, drink coffee served in a larger-than-mouse-sized cup, sleep with the windows open without fear of attack by fiendish mosquitos and crispy shelled cockroaches. But in the last few weeks I've been thinking more and more about what I'm leaving behind that I take for granted here now - the beautiful beaches, the tropical plants and forests, the sun ...oh the sun! I hope I don't get S.A.D. when I get home.

Lisette's gone away for a few days, having promised to buy my car off me when she gets back. The internet's terrible at the moment and with her away I can't see it getting fixed any time soon - so don't expect many updates. But if you don't hear from me don't worry too much. I'll be home soon!

Sunday, May 25, 2008

La souris est morte, vive la souris

Many hours were spent last week cleaning mouse corps off the bottom of the kitchen drawer underneath which it had started to putrefy. And once the bleach had settled and the kitchen was spotless I foolishly thought it was over ...it wasn’t.

Now angry, bitter and vengeful teeth are once again chewing their way through in an attempt to find the trail of the ancestors. Lisette says the man can’t come this week because it’s Mothers’ Day (All week??) but that he’ll be back soon to brick up the gap. But honestly, if they can get through glass and steel I can’t see how brick will stop these mighty beasts. I think the man needs to build me a fallout shelter and then put the house inside it. And then we might be safe.

Nelta invited us to a karaoke evening last night which was good fun. Everyone had to take a number out of an envelope when they arrived, and these numbers were then pulled out of a hat so no one could get out of singing. The theme for the evening, printed on the t-shirts of the hosts was ‘O.P.P.C’ (‘On ne peut pas critiquer’ – i.e. ‘We’re all rubbish so let’s not make fun of each other.’) And I was glad to find out that the standard of karaoke in Martinique is almost identical to that of the UK. The only difference really is that people don’t drink so much here so the words are more comprehensible, even when they’re not in English. I was quite nervous before I had to go up but I got some cheers and whistles after my ‘Killing me Softly’. However I was totally upstaged by J’s impressive rendition of ‘I’m a Barbie Girl’ which went down a storm, especially the parts where he inserted his favourite (and only) creole phrase, ‘Ba mwe sa’ (‘Give me that’), eg. ‘Come on Barbie, ba mwe sa, oh oh oh oh...’

J’s taking advantage of the hot weather here and has turned the kitchen into a brewery for ginger beer and mead. I only hope they taste better than last year’s attempt which had a lovely lemony yeast vomit flavour – he forgot the sugar. Other recent projects include a solar powered oven (the first attempt didn’t work but we’re still trying) and living off the land. It must be the fruity season now because there’s a mango tree on Dead Cat Alley shedding fruit left right and centre, the prunes de Cythère have gone yellow and are starting to drop off, and we were introduced (thanks Nick) to a delicious plum-like fruit the other day too. I don’t know what it was called but the ripest, brightest red ones tasted a little bit like bubble gum, and the slightly less ripe ones had an interesting tartness which was most refreshing.

We also bought a telescopic fishing rod and have been out a couple of times trying to catch dinner. So far J has caught an enormous (at least 2 inches long) shiny anonymous fish and I have caught some seaweed. Not bad for beginners but I think we need a bit more practice.

Oh yes... our flights are booked. We're coming back via Saint Lucia. Leaving here on June 30th by boat, staying there for ten days and then flying directly to the UK arriving July 11th. Can't wait!

Monday, May 12, 2008

Not a lot to report

It’s a bank holiday (again!). I had some plaits in which I took out the other day and found I had lovely straight red lines of sunburn on my scalp which is now peeling like snake skin. I brushed my hair this morning and it was like a scene from The Singing Detective.

I’m feeling a bit poor after having just shelled out 100 euros for two new tyres and about 130 for visits to the doctor and medicine. She reckons I’ve got some kind of parasite, probably from drinking the tap water. Yay. I am officially riddled with worms as well as peeling like a freak. I had a nice time on the beach today though. I kept my head covered at all times.

There’s not much to tell this week. Not a lot going on. I’ve been watching Jerry Springer – life's a bit dull at the moment. That mouse is still trying to get in though. He obviously thinks my house is a place of huge excitement. He’s going to be disappointed unless of course he likes watching crazy American chat shows.

We drove down to Anses D'Arlet last night hoping to go to a restaurant which has a massive beach barbecue and live music. But by the time we arrived (about 8.30pm) they'd run out of food. Also the music sounded a bit like the Eurovision Song Contest on maximum volume so we just went to Trois Islets for steak frites instead. It was a long way to go just for dinner but we managed to talk Rosy and Georgie into joining us so all was not lost and a pleasant evening was had.

Not much else has happened... Oh but I did go to Mangofil with a few other assistants the other day. It's an exciting high wire adventure playground with arial slides and great heights - and support harnesses and safety clips of course. It was a good day out. I'm hoping to go back again once my bank balance has retrouven its equilibrium (and once I've decided which language I'm trying to speak - I'm seeing downhill motion in both at the moment. I hope this problem règles itself bientôt!)

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Walking on water

Yesterday we feasted. There was a cake sale at school in the morning and then J and I went to check out the “Semaine Gastronomique” at Sainte Marie. I got a free sample from a man in a chef’s outfit (an ample sample I might add) of chicken with champignons noirs and white wine, I had a snowball (crushed ice with grenadine syrup poured all over it) and we bought some accras aux légumes and aux crevettes and a bottle of cherry punch.

There’s a strange almost-islet at Sainte Marie which is connected to the mainland by a narrow, partially flooded isthmus where two set of waves break against each other when the tide is high. Yesterday people were walking across it, collecting shellfish and going for a walk on the islet, so we thought we’d join in on the fun. As we started paddling across I held up my skirt to stop it getting wet – but I soon gave up trying with that when the waves started slopping against each other with more force and I got completely soaked. I think next time I go for a walk in the sea I’ll wear a swimming costume. We also both got very sunburnt as, foolishly, we had come out without sun cream on thinking we would be wandering under a covered market all morning. It was a fun adventure though.

The university project is coming along nicely. I’ve written 5300 words (although most of that is inane foreign waffle) and I just need to write a conclusion now. I’m hoping this conclusion will be so profound as to stun the examiner into forgetting everything they read over the last 5000 words and give me an amazing mark. I’ll let you know how that plan works out...

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Mouse Attack

Les jours feriés sont des jours de fête civile ou religeuse ...and they have MILLIONS of them in Martinique. I'm sure there have been five or six since I got here, and there are three more in the next two weeks, two of which are on Thursdays. Bank Holiday Thursday! Did you ever hear of such a thing?

...Ok, I have some catching up to do. Remember my friends the mice? Well they finally chewed a hole in the perspex barrier big enough to get into the cupboard under the sink. We heard a lot of scrabbling and scuffling coming from in there the other day so Jennie and I opened the door to take a peek just in time to see a large furry flurry disappear into the darkness and then sit on the other side of the perspex, peering at us, undoubtedly coveting my snacks, and rubbing his hands together in glee at the thought of edging ever closer to his goal.

Fearing an infestation I immediately reinstated my defence system (a piece of wood and a chair) to stop mighty mouse opening the door and getting into the kitchen. I also blocked up a gap in one of the drawers with a rolled up floor mat. But the teeth of the mouse must not be underestimated. Only an hour or so later it had gnawed its way through and was running around in my kitchen trying to decide which tasty treat to go for first.

Angered by the threat to my food supplies I ran towards it, not really sure what I was going to do (food is sacred to me), but the beast eluded me once more, climbing fearlessly up the drawers and pushing the remains of the mat out of its way to run through the gap and back into the cupboard. And I’m sure I heard it laughing at me as it scuttled back through the hole.

After many wild hand gestures and much breathless conversation with Lisette, I managed to convince her to erect a more solid barrier to try and prevent further invasions. So now I have a metal plate between me and mouse world. And after thoroughly disinfecting the drawers and anything that was in them I can finally rest knowing my precious food is safe from tiny teeth...for now at least...

I'm off to the Post Office this afternoon to stand in a ridiculously long queue of sweaty people for several hours. I wish they'd just sort it out and get more workers on the desk. I think if I added up all the time I've spent queuing there since September it would make about a month. Wish me luck!

Friday, April 18, 2008

Day of Mourning

Yesterday I switched the TV on as I was sleepily and grumpily getting ready for work (having lots of guests is fun but quite exhausting) and I noticed several channels were playing strange wailing music and showing a frozen screen with an old man’s face on it and today’s date. And I eventually guessed using the cunning power of reading a scrolling subtitle that the great Aimé Césaire had died that morning.

At school, Mme Trunchbull had lined all the kids up class by class in the playground when I arrived and was yelling into a microphone at them; “QU’EST-CE QUI S’EST PASSÉ AUJOURD’HUI LES ENFANTS??” as the little ones looked confused and the big ones looked at the floor. Eventually some brave (or foolish) child put his hand up and was summoned up to the microphone where he whispered; “Aimé Césaire est mort” only to be told to; “PARLE PLUS FORT!!” Then the question was re-posed several times at megadecibels until the terrified enfants shouted back in unison; “AIMÉ CÉSAIRE EST MORT” ...by which time I was quite sure my guess was correct, and also that the children were unlikely ever to forget this day as they would probably be traumatised by the playground experience for the rest of their lives.

Later on I got a message from my tutor, who I was expecting to come and observe me the following day, saying school would be closed on Friday as a mark of respect (YAY!!) and that it may not be open on Monday either depending on whether or not the funeral happened on Sunday.

I knew a tiny bit about Césaire before yesterday, but I was so happy to get the day off that I decided, as my own mark of respect, to educate myself properly about him. I might even read one of his books, you never know.

It’s been lovely having guests and doing the tourist thing again – Jennie’s still here for another week – but unfortunately it means I don’t get much time for myself or blogging. So please excuse my absence. I’ll try and get back on track when my house is calm again.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Accrochement

Wow... I had no idea how addicted I am to the internet. It's been playing up for a few weeks and simply not working at all most days. And recently I've been haunted by a song that keeps going round and round in my head, occasionally bursting out when I least expect it, like when I'm walking around the supermarket looking for cheese - you know the one? Dusty Springfield? I just don't know what to do with myself. I've honestly never had such an affinity with a lyric...

Going to the movies only makes me sad,
Parties make me feel as bad,
When I'm not with you I just don't know what to do.

It's been absolutely traumatic.

Happily my ennui is about to be assuaged since cousins are arriving on Tuesday and a friend from uni is coming on Sunday. And the BIG news is that J is finally coming too ...today! It was a last minute decision - I got a phone call at 3am yesterday and then spent the rest of the night flipping my pillow over and getting tangled up in the sheets and switching the light on to check the time and generally not being able to sleep. And then at school I walked around all day like a zombie, only realising I was actually alive when my little wee kid told me I have 'très beaux yeux', sparking off a volley of raucous laughter from the children around him.

We’ve been doing ‘the zoo’ this week which has been really hilarious. I had all the kids jumping around pretending to be lions and zebras (what noise does a zebra make? We were whinnying and hrrrrumphing – I assume they do that) which they really enjoyed. I’m thinking of teaching them the ‘We’re off to the animal fair’ song next week. I just hope they don’t ask too many questions about the ‘gay’ baboon.

You may have noticed I uploaded a few more pictures to photobucket, which you can access by clicking on the big arse depicted below. On Easter Monday, after the roast lamb dinner I hosted the night before, we all went (nursing hangovers - never drink something called 'Shrub'. It's got a stupid name, it tastes like crap and it causes only pain and sadness) to watch a crab race at Sainte Marie. It was quite fun actually although I felt sorry for the crabs, which, after being poked and prodded and teased into racing the six foot course, were made into Matoutou for the spectators to eat. I went for crayfish curry and lentils instead. There should be some pictures of the race and the competitors (before they were stewed) as well as some of the Easter dinner.

As I’ll be busy entertaining guests for the next three weeks (and as my internet is complete shit) you might not hear from me for a while. So if you feel lonely, just think of Dusty Springfield. It won’t help, but at least I can console myself with the fact that someone, somewhere, is suffering the irritation that song brings, just like I’ve been doing for the last like EVER!

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Photobucket Album
Arse WIne

Saturday, March 22, 2008

Feeling crabby


I’ve come to the conclusion that the traditional Easter dish here must be crabs. The supermarkets are full of the little snappers, and I saw a man on the street with a big chicken wire cage crawling with them today, all trying to sneak and pincer their way out to no avail. I’ve never eaten crab. I told Mr Lazimo this the other day and he was horrified. I suppose I should try it. I just really don’t fancy the idea of plunging one into a vat of boiling water, and it seems somehow wrong to get someone else to do my dirty work for me while I reap (or should I say eat) the benefits.


I was doing some work on my Créole project a few days ago when I was distracted by a duck outside my patio door. It was parading up and down, regarding itself in the glass and looking distinctly pleased with itself. I quite enjoyed the show until it did a poo just by the door and then walked in it, spreading it all around outside my house.


Still on the topic of uninvited guests, I had another scolopendre in the house this week. I killed it of course. I’ve heard too many horror stories to leave it wandering around my house. And since then I’ve taken the precaution of putting masking tape over any crack, gap or hole I have found in the house. I don’t want to see another one. And if my preventative measures keep the cockroaches out too that will be a bonus!


I think there’s a Good Friday thing going on in town this evening. I saw a load of scribes and Pharisees and soldiers parading around the square when I went out for a walk earlier. No sign of Jesus though...


Oh yes, I braided my hair. What do you think? It nearly made my arms fall off so I hope it lasts longer than a week this time.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Scary scolopendra

The other day as I was standing in a stuffy classroom waiting for the kids to arrive, feeling sweaty, tired and stressed, carrying a hundred folders and dropping my photocopies all over the floor, a little boy came running up to me, beaming, and whispered breathlessly in my ear, ‘vous êtes sublime’, before throwing himself into his chair, arms folded, sitting up straight, and waiting excitedly for the ‘hello song’. Well that pretty much made my day. Though I think he has a tiny teacher crush after an incident that happened last week...

There’s no nice way to say this but this little boy smells of wee. He is the class ‘wee kid’. You know the type - every school has one or two – small, usually looking somewhat malnourished, probably having horrendously neglectful parent(s), and smelling quite distinctly of wee. And understandably the other children never want to talk to him when we’re doing group and pair work. So last week when we were doing a survey asking each other ‘what’s in your pencil case?’, I saw him sitting on his own at his table, head in his hands, staring at his carefully drawn survey table with a melancholy glaze in his eyes. I went over to see what was wrong (that’s when I realised that what I had previously taken to be the generalised urine stench of the classroom was actually emanating from him alone) and he said that no one wanted to do the survey with him. So I asked him who he wanted to interview and then collared the unfortunate chosen ones and make them sit with him. And he looked so pleased to have company that I stopped feeling sorry for the ‘victims’ and simply enjoyed the fact that he was joining in with the lesson. So anyway I think that’s why he likes me.

I remember not wanting to be anywhere near the wee kids when I was in primary school – but I also remember the strange air of sadness that hung around them too. Why do people have children when they don’t have the means or will to take care of them? It’s very sad.

I’ve got limited internet access at the moment, hence the long absences.

Can’t really do much about it though.

Oh my goodness! I nearly forgot to mention the latest ‘beastie’ to wend its weary (AND VERY UNWELCOME) way into my house. Voici le scolopendre. I woke up in the middle of the night needing a glass of water, to find this terrifying thing scuttling around my living room. I've been warned about it. Apparently its sting is one of the most painful you can encounter on this island, and therefore the best thing to do is stamp on it hard and kill it. Unfortunately I don’t sleep in shoes, so I grabbed a broom and, with a feeling of silent hysterical terror, beat it close to death and swept it outside. Then I went back to bed (where I didn’t sleep thanks to creepy crawly thoughts.)

In the morning Lisette saw the mangled corpse and asked me if I’d killed the beast. Suddenly thinking she might be angry that I’d left its carcass right outside the house, I freaked out and denied all knowledge of ever having seen it. She wasn’t angry at all - she said Meat Cookie must have had it, and that it was a shame it wasn’t me that killed it, because the slayer of a scolopendre is purported to come into money quite soon after the slaughter.


Yay! Money please!

Monday, March 3, 2008

Arse Wine

Yesterday I bought a bottle of wine called, and I kid you not, Seigneurie d’Arse. I admit I bought it for its hilarious name rather than its alleged powerful aromas and ruby red body. But in fact it tastes more like arse than any other wine I’ve ever had. I won’t be buying it again.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

La cucaracha ya no puede caminar...

Cockroaches... why do you come in my house? I sweep up all my crumbs, put insecticide around the edge of every room, wash my floors with bleach, put up polite signs saying ‘No cockroaches or cold callers, thank you’, I even close all the doors in the hope that your enormous tropical girth will prevent you from squeezing underneath them and wandering willy nilly around my abode. So why, every couple of days, do I see one of your ever-expanding family in my bathroom, dead or dying?

And another thing... for a creature which is supposedly so highly adapted in evolutionary terms – you’ve been on earth for millions of years, you can live a week without your head, can hold your breath for more than thirty seconds, can withstand radiation equivalent to that which is released in a nuclear explosion – you seem to have a rather large design flaw, namely, your inability to get up again once you are on your back. Of course this makes things easier for me. I can just leave you there until your hairy, spiny legs cease their manic waving, and you are no more. It’s better if I can sweep you straight into the bin, dead, than having to go through the whole squishy mess palaver every time.

But let’s be honest here. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. I don’t give you anything apart from slow death so why do you continue to come to me?

Incidentally I was thinking the other day what I would do if I had to choose between eating a worm or a cockroach (where there’s no other choice – not even death). And I think I’d rather eat a worm. That’s how much I dislike you. So there.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

I can walk the walk ...not sure about the talking the talk bit though...

I’ve found paradise in my own back yard! (Well ok, I’ve found a very beautiful place not far away from where I live.) It’s called Presqu’ile de la Caravelle – a nature reserve on the peninsula which goes out into the Atlantic Ocean. I went up there last week to see the view from the lighthouse and it was stunning, awe inspiring, breathtaking, dizzying, and any other cliché from that family of clichés you can possibly think of. You can see the whole of the Atlantic coast, as well as MILES and MILES of ocean and sunshine. And, I’m sorry if this sounds a bit wanky, but I felt humbled. It was as if every negative feeling that I could possibly have suddenly became insignificant, and I felt very, very small, like a tiny speck in a vast expanse of jaw-dropping beauty.

I was so excited about my find that I decided to go back again the next day and hike all around the reserve. So, I packed myself some sandwiches, grabbed a big bottle of water and slapped on a load of sunscreen ready for my trek. And it was amazing ...if a little exhausting... It took about three hours. There was a lot of scrambling up rocks and climbing steep trails through the woods, and in the hot sun this took quite a lot of effort to achieve. But it was very much worth it. So much worth it in fact that I did it again on Wednesday, only this time I went round the other way. I think I’m hooked. I’m going to have to go back again at the weekend.

Last night was sociable night. I was invited to an evening of crêpes at Nelta and José’s house, which was very enjoyable. We played a game called Brainstorm (in French of course) and ate crêpes with all kinds of fillings, from smoked salmon and cream cheese, to roast vegetables and goat’s cheese, to strawberry jam. And I didn’t get home ‘til 2 am! I actually feel a little bit better about my French recently. I feel like I’m getting more fluent, although still making millions of mistakes. A woman last night told me I express myself well. I’m not sure if that was a polite way of saying, ‘ahhh, you’re doing your best *pat pat*’ but I decided to accept it as a compliment anyway.

School again tomorrow and I’m testing the CM2s at the moment. I did oral tests last week – some of which went amazingly well, and some of which were frankly quite painful – and this week I’m doing a little reading and writing test. Well, it’ll make a change to have them quietly working away on their own rather than me prancing around all over the place making funny faces and generally looking like a twat...

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Abandonment issues

There’s a young dog tied up outside my house who Courtney and I call ‘Meat Cookie’. He has a long chain which allows him to wander into next door’s field, via a hole in the fence, where he sniffs trees and bounces about chasing chickens and peeing on logs. Unfortunately he doesn’t get very much attention from people so is very excitable whenever he sees a human.

I used to open the windows in the spare room when I was cleaning and he would always run madly towards me, waggy and woofy, paws scrabbling on the window ledge, whining and pulling a strange face of worry and desperation. I’ve started opening the window about once a day to pat him and give him a bit of love, but whenever I close it again he always looks at me as if to say, ‘pleeeeeease don’t leave me out here. I’m so lonely!’

He’s called Meat Cookie because that is what he likes to eat. I once bought some mini pastries called pâtés brisées, which are essentially spicy sausage rolls in the shape of tiny pies, and I gave one to Courtney. Having never encountered such a thing, she exclaimed, ‘Ohh a meat cookie!’ and the name stuck. And there were about 20 in the box so we shared them with the then nameless dog, and from that day forward he became ‘Meat Cookie’.

I think Meat Cookie is accustomed to eating anything actually – Lisette gives him rice and tomatoes and pasta and all manner of ‘human feed’, and I’ve given him crisps, salami, crackers and all sorts of stuff too. All food pleases him. And he’s a very skinny dog too so he must burn off all those calories with all his woofing and whining. I feel very sorry for him. He’s so bored and lonely. I once gave him an old shoe that I was going to throw out and he was so excited he raced up and down with it, straining on the length of chain at each end, flipping it up in the air and barking like a freak. And eventually he settled down with it for a good ol’ chew, tongue out, panting and happy, and then came over and gave me a lick as if to say thanks.

Courtney left on Wednesday to go home to Delaware. Now I know how Meat Cookie feels when I close that window. I’m sad and lonely now too. So if anyone wants to pat my head or give me old shoe to play with I’d be most grateful!

Monday, February 4, 2008

BALLS!

So... on Saturday I ate some testicles. YUM! What a treat, I hear you cry! I’d been invited by Nelta and Josée to a beach barbecue at Les Salines, at which some friends and family of theirs were cooking a whole lamb. And I mean the WHOLE lamb. Nothing was left out...

We were right in the middle of the introductions when a large, smiley man came my way with a plate of some kind of stew and insisted that I try it. I asked him what was in it and he said it was a secret recipe. So, not wishing to offend my hosts, and thinking it was probably just some strange kind of fish anyway, I dug my plastic fork in and pulled out the least grisly and offensive lump I could find. All eyes were on me as I took a bite. It was fairly soft and mildly spicy and, since everyone was looking at me, I declared it delicious. The man seemed VERY pleased and kept asking me, ‘Tu l’as aimé?, t’es sure?, ce n’était pas trop piquant?’. His constant search for approval (as well as the slightly mad glint in his eye) made me a bit suspicious. So when no one was looking I dropped the remains of my forkful into the sand and quickly buried it with my foot. And a few hours later when Nelta told me what it was I didn’t feel very surprised, and I acted like I was very brave and entirely unperturbed. ...But inside a small part of me was vomiting into my sun hat.

Samedi soirée was spent in Trois Islets with Courtney, Rosie, Georgie and the Irish contingent. We were planning on going to see the Carnaval parade there but execrable weather put a stop to that and we went for pizza instead and then on to drink Mojitos and have a dance at a bar. It was a fun night, but we all felt a bit worse for wear on Sunday. And so yet again I didn’t manage to go to a Carnaval parade that was going on in Fort de France. I saw the Trinité schools’ parade the other day but I feel like I ought to make the effort to see a grown up one too – even though I can’t help feeling it’s a bit hypocritical for such supposedly pious folk to do such unashamedly sexy dancing (I don’t mean a little bum wiggle – I’m talking GRRRRRinding that ass into the nearest person’s groin), and for such homophobic men to dress in drag and prance around in fishnet tights and G strings... well I suppose that’s the point of the festival – to get all the sinning out of the way before Lent. But I just don’t really get this culture however hard I try.

Anyway, new photos have been uploaded to Facebook, for those who have access to it, and Photobucket uploads will be coming soon for everyone else.


And thanks to JN for this news report:

Reuter's reports that this year's Nobel Prize has been awarded to an Englishwoman currently living on the West Indian island of Martinique. Ms Lindsey F (an expert on rare insects) has recently published groundbreaking medical research which reveals that a virulent strain of malaria, carried by tropical mosquitoes, can be completely controlled by the use of The Malteser Method. It is believed that as soon as the victim sees an offending mosquito, he (or she) opens a bedside box of Maltesers and pelts the insect to death. At a Press conference held yesterday, Ms F said modestly, "I just owe it all to Maltesers". She then shouted "Bananas" - at which the entire Press corps collapsed in hysterical laughter.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Bananas, I am...

There’s a video shop in Robert which I finally plucked up courage to go inside the other day. It’s a dark and dingy place which from the outside gives the impression of very sticky floors and illegal firearms under the counter. I’ve driven past it a hundred times, always wishing I had the courage to go in, and so I finally decided enough was enough and that it was time to bite the bullet this week. I marched boldly past the gang of youths outside, across the surprisingly non-sticky floor and straight up to the counter, where to my great surprise there was a very friendly and helpful man ...and no guns in sight.

I’d gone there armed with every piece of ID and official paper I have, knowing how much they seem to love making things like joining video clubs difficult here. But weirdly all the guy wanted was my address and to look at my passport. Hmmm... too easy... there must be a catch. Maybe you’re required to fill in a forty page form in order to return a DVD... Yes I bet that’s it. Or maybe I’ve been hardened and embittered by my experiences here so far. And maybe I should think about making fewer assumptions and being less judgemental ...maybe...

On Thursday, when I found out my teachers were on strike after all (this was after my having telephoned the school in question that morning and being told by some ill-informed soul, whom I suspect was M. Lazimo, that my teachers were DEFINTELY present that day, and then arriving in school fully armed with lesson plans and flashcards only to find out that in fact there were only three teachers in the whole place, none of whom taught any of my classes - grrr) Courtney and I tried to go to the beach, but had our plans scuppered by rain and so we made a trip to the video store and then went back to my house to watch three movies, drink beer and eat stir fry with noodles instead. And I rejoiced having been brave enough to go to the video shop - it was a lazy but well spent afternoon.

I got a flat tyre today ...and then found out that my jack is broken. Well I suppose if you buy an 800 euro car you can’t really expect all the trimmings too. So I had to ask some man selling ice creams on the side of the road for a hand. Oh and didn’t he LOVE that? Then I had to spend the next twenty minutes gritting my teeth and playing the damsel in distress while stupid ice cream man told me over and over how lucky I was that he had been there and that no one else would have been as kind as him. So the first chance I get tomorrow I’m buying a jack and a new spare. That incident was too annoying for me to risk it happening again.

I was asking the kids the other day which foods they liked, and which they didn’t. When I asked one really cute and very expressive girl if she liked bananas (which incidentally the kids still think is the most hilarious word ever) she looked up at me with a HUGE grin and said, very confidently, “Yes, I AM bananas!” I know it’s not that funny - maybe I was just tired - but for some reason her response rendered me silently and painfully hysterical, and I had to turn and write something on the board to avoid laughing out loud. Oh dear... I need to get more sleep I think.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

The Elephant Man

I had a day off work on Monday due to a somewhat extreme reaction I had to two insect bites on my forehead. The result was a swollen monster face which would have made John Merrick look pretty damn desirable. So, for fear of scaring the children I decided to stay in the house on Monday and drink tea and eat Malteasers instead. I’ve heard they have healing properties, and it must be true because I’m back to my normal self again now, which means I have no excuse not to go to work tomorrow. There’s supposed to be yet another grêve – yes, the French really do LOVE to go on strike – but unfortunately it won’t affect me as only certain teachers are taking part, and none of them are tomorrow’s teachers.

I’m not really sure why I haven’t blogged since last week... Too tired I suppose. But also, there’s only so many times you can say, ‘Today I went to the beach and lazed around getting a tan’, before your soggy and freezing English (and French and German) audience get pissed off and stop reading.

I decided to join Nick today on a quest to find the university library at Schoelcher. I have to start getting serious quite soon about a 6000 word project I have to do (in foreign French!!). So despite the fact that I'm in denial about it, it was actually quite comforting to find out I can at least get access to some academic books without too much hassle. Nick was really excited about the library. (Too excited in my opinion... Personally I thought it looked a bit like something from Beirut in the '80s - maybe I’ve just been spoilt with previously having 24 hour access to Sheffield’s Information Commons.) But Schoelcher library has books in it, and it’s air conditioned, so I suppose it’ll do for my purposes.

We were supposed to go to the library at eleven this morning but we somehow got waylaid at the cinema (where we’d arranged to meet) and ‘accidentally’ went to see a film called Tous à l’Ouest instead. And then afterwards we were hungry, of course, so we had to go to Snack Elizée, which is fast becoming my favourite place to eat (they sell PEANUT milkshakes. How amazing is that?), and I had a tuna kebab with rice and kidney beans. So we didn’t even make it to the library until 2pm. We had fun though. If I could start every day with a movie and a peanut milkshake I think I’d be very happy ...if a little fat...

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Clippety Clop

I’m too tired to write anything so I’ll keep this short. I just got back from taekwondo, where I reaffirmed my love of ordering blokes around – maybe it’s something to do with the fact that I feel women are so objectified here, and that normally the only interaction I have with men is to tell them to piss off and leave me alone. It feels quite novel to have guys actually interested in what I’m saying because they want to learn something from me instead of just wanting to get in my pants.

Anyway... the reason for my super tired blogging is that I just wanted to upload this photo of me and my new best friend, Domino. I went pony trekking with Courtney today and it was AMAZING! We galloped on the beach under the coconut trees, we paddled through the waves, we trotted along a tropical forest path and all this before 10am. Wonderful. We’re definitely going back!

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Partaay!

It’s surprising how much mess can be made when eight people put their minds to it. The party clean up operation took for ever. I decided after the Toussaint smash fest, in which I lost four wine glasses, three tumblers, a cup and saucer, and the will to live (almost), to supply people with plastic plates and glasses at my birthday gathering. Every time I hear ‘Oops’ as something falls and shatters I feel my 500 euro deposit slipping ever further away from me. So I decided not to take any risks this time. I imagine I’ll be buying a new set of plates and glasses before I leave anyway but I thought it seemed sensible to try and preserve what I have left for at least the next couple of months. I might have a smashing Greek style party with what remains of the originals in June. That’s if there are any left of course.

The plan on Friday night was to order pizza, but as usual I panicked at the last minute and cooked up a feast anyway. I hate inviting people to my house and having no food to offer them. I thought I was just making something to accompany the pizza but in the end I’d made so much food we didn’t even bother ordering anything in. We had two barbecued chickens (bought from the supermarket), rice with stir fried vegetables, tuna pasta salad, green salad, bowls of crisps, biscuits, all sorts of stuff. Nelta came round which was good - It was lovely that she turned up but also it forced us to speak French for most of the evening which, though hard work after a few beers and chocolate liqueurs, was very rewarding!

I’ve decided to try and foster a new cinema-going habit to force me to listen to more French. Courtney got me a gift voucher of five cinema trips for my birthday which is already helping my habit form nicely.

A few of us went to the cinema yesterday to see a film called ‘La Femme de ses Rêves’. This is a film I would normally have avoided but it turned out to be quite funny in French. I think I’m more easily amused here as far as films go. If I can understand what’s going on then it seems like money well spent to me. I think it helped that there was a man behind us guffawing madly every few minutes – not only did it cue me as to when to laugh (I'm joking! Je blaguais!), the raucous laughter also kept me entertained through the portions of the film that were too slapstick for my usual high brow tastes (ahem). I saw ‘I am Legend’ last week (I thought since it was about the last man on earth the dialogue wouldn’t be too challenging. I was right - there were more gunshots than words in the movie I think.) I saw a documentary called ‘Le Premier Cri’ too which was good, about childbirth in various different countries of the world. I wasn’t sure about the weird Mexican woman who had people pay her to give birth in her pool of dolphins ...but each to their own I suppose...

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Power trip

I have a strange feeling of exhilaration tonight. Perhaps I’m savouring the last moments of being twenty eight. Or perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I’ve been shouting orders in Korean at big sweaty men for the last two hours... Yes, I think it’s the latter actually.

The instructor who I usually train with came to my training session today with another man, a red belt, so they could work on their technique. It was a bit of a strange feeling, little ol’ five foot me barking orders at these huge blokes. (I usually only teach beginners who are easily impressed by my high kicks and who I don’t feel I need to prove anything to) But these fellas seemed to take me seriously anyway. AND they understood my French. So despite my constant fears to the contrary I think it really must be improving.

I’m teaching the children fruits this week. They think the way I say banana is hilarious although I have no idea why. But every class independently completely cracked up when I said it. It just must sound funny to French ears. And when I showed them a picture of a pineapple and they tried to use logic to work out what side splittingly funny English sound that word would make, I was faced with a chorus of ‘aNAH-nas!’. ...I felt rather sad to have to tell them they were completely wrong.

One teacher, the one that doesn’t like my handwriting, asked me on Monday why I don’t make the children do any written assessments. I told her I’m not qualified to, which is a lie. I just, a) can’t be bothered to mark them all, b) feel that since most of the work I do is oral work and listening exercises, it doesn’t really seem fair to give them a written test and, c) don't like her to think it's ok to interrupt my lesson to tell me how I could, in her opinion, be doing it better. She went on to ask me why I wasn’t teaching them the words for fruits that they have here, because, "the word strawberry is no use to them". I tried to explain that the word guava would have little use to them if they were ever in England but I don't think she really cares. She just likes arguing with me. Or maybe she feels threatened by my presence.

Or maybe all this shouting at big men has gone to my head...

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Galette des Rois

I woke up this morning thinking it seemed like a great day to have an epiphany. I ate bacon for the first time in four months. It smelled like home and it fuelled my melancholy. I’ve been feeling desperately lonely and sad, that my French isn’t improving and that the only people who want to talk to me here are disgusting sleazy men, and that more than anything I want to give up and go home. So I tried and tried to come up with a plan... and eventually it happened. It came to me in a flash. I realised I just needed to swallow my pride and beg someone to be my friend.

So I sent a text to Nelta from taekwondo, who had seemed concerned when I was looking wistful a few nights earlier, saying I felt sad and lonely and I was finding it hard to meet anyone and that I was basically having a terrible time here. AND IT WORKED! She invited me to her Aunt’s house this evening to share the galette des rois with them. And I had the most fantastic time! It was a huge family gathering with loads of kids running around and homemade kumquat punch, peanut punch, coconut punch, cider, champagne and guava juice. The Aunt was big and friendly and welcoming and kept us all amused by trying to speak English (but mostly speaking some strange hybrid Spanish) for most of the evening and I had the best night ever. Isn’t it funny how a bit of human contact and kindness can completely change a person’s world around?

Back to school tomorrow. I prepared the first four lessons for my CM1 classes and then decided to just do the same lessons with CM2 as well. I’d made a million fruit and foods flashcards by then and just couldn’t face opening another felt tip. I don’t think anyone really cares what I do as long as I keep them entertained. So as long as I can prance around pretending to be a very hungry caterpillar for all my classes I do believe all will be well.

Tuesday, January 1, 2008

...and a flat-packed New Year

I wasn’t prepared for such a feeling of hole-in-the-heart sadness after mum and Keeley left. The last few days have been like the montage bit in a crappy film where there’s sad music playing as the hero wanders listlessly, watching the clouds and seeing the shape of the British Isles in every one. I don’t want to get melodramatic about it though...ahem.

Most of the other assistants went to Saint Lucia a few days ago for New Year. And so knowing I’d be all alone on that eve of anti-climactic revelling I decided to try and distract myself with a project. So I bought a flat-packed desk, chair and bookshelf to build as a New Year challenge (and to help me feel ‘in the zone’ when I try and get down to my university work). And a New Year challenge it most certainly was.

I had bought a screwdriver which meant I had all the required articles on the instruction diagram (except for the stick man in overalls). But still the task was tough, and despite having been assured by the multilingual (and yet somehow incomprehensible) instructions that it would only take the stick man one hour to construct the desk, after an hour and a half I was still surrounded by wooden shapes trying to decide which bit was piece D. I did it eventually though and now have a very cheap and wobbly desk which may fall over at any moment. The chair was easier to construct although marred by the perils of its own cheapness – the holes drilled in the back were slightly off so I couldn’t fix it together and had to make do with a stool instead. The bookcase was outstanding though. Never have I seen such a marvel of workmanship. So it was a memorable New Year’s Eve. And I got something other than a hangover to show for it too!

I made a curry the other day which was so hot it made me cry. One of the Scotch bonnet peppers burst open infusing everything with its powerful seeds before I had the chance to fish it out. I’ve got a HUGE pan of it as well so I’ll be crying spicy tears for a few days I think. It’s nice though!