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.

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...

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!

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.

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.

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...

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!