Travel days and lazy river bungalows

Another day, another departure, this time leaving our gorgeous open-air bungalow over-looking the sea(even more so now that the banana palms have been cut down) and heading back to the big city. Saint-Francois has been a great base for visiting the islands and the coast, but I am ever-so-happy that I rented a place outside the town! It was private, super quiet - and it didn't feel like we were staying in the Guadeloupe equivalent of Florida. Fair warning to anyone wanting to travel here: Saint-Francois is the snow-bird home of Parisians looking to get away from the cold weather back home, with its gold course, marina, villa rentals, and boules club on the beach(think petanques).

We got our first experience of REAL traffic on the island, heading into Pointe-à-Pitre, and for no other reason than the sheer volume of cars on smaller-than-required roadways. No worries, it only delayed us dropping off the rental car about 10 minutes. We also lucked out that one of the vendors offered a luggage drop service(read: 2 euros and the bags are kept behind the counter), so we were able to explore the city for a few hours before boarding the boat for Marie-Galante.

Originally, my plans included a 3-day stay here instead of Port-Louis, but I am glad that changed somewhere in the planning stages. Pointe-à-Pitre is a city, with narrow laneways, taller buildings and lots of people and cars. It sounds like a city, and even smells like one(I'll let you figure that one out on your own). Whereas other European cities we have been to have a feel of beautiful decay, here I can only really call it dinginess. Most of the historic and pertinent sights are clustered around the main square, so easily reachable in one day, and several are closed for renovations - I think we would have been grasping at ideas on how to spent our time here for 3 days! Instead, we find ourselves with just 3 hours to wander the streets and get a feel for life in the city.

We made our way from the Port to the main square, passing through several markets, some destined for cruise traffic, some destined for locals. We picked up a street map of the city and the information centre in the middle of Place de la Victoire, then made our to the highest point in town to see the church with the see-through steeple, and the views of the town below. Back down the hill, we crossed back through the square to see the prettiest church in town, the church of St-Peter and St-Paul. Its columns and framework that remind me of the work of a certain Gustave Eiffel, which makes sense since the church was build around the same time as a certain tower in Paris, and everyone was imitating the architectural style.

After that, it was all just a maze of streets lined with shops and restaurants and apartments, music screaming out from inside, brightly coloured wigs and costumes for Carnaval filling the windows. We looked for somewhere to grab a bite, and ended up in the parking lot of the bus terminus, where several food trucks were parked, and people crowded round to get their lunch orders in. We joined the mass at one particularly busy place, and walked away with 2 bokit sandwiches, dough warm and tender but crunchy on the outside, filled to the brim with codfish and lettuce and carrot and tomato, perfectly spiced with local chilies. Forget the restaurants in town - this is the way to eat!

After lunch, we recovered our bags and headed to the Port for another eventful crossing into the Atlantic, though time time on a much larger ship, and a catamaran at that, so really not as bad as the small boat to La Désirade. Just as wet, though, as I watched the entire other half of the boat get soaked by a particularly large and violent wave! I laughed.

Disembarking on Marie-Galante felt just like entering any of the other seaside towns we've been to - it was upon collecting our rental car and driving out of Grand-Bourg that we realized the difference. Marie-Galante is an agricultural island, based on livestock and sugarcane, and the terrain reflects that. Basically a big flat pancake, the rolling hills are dotted with houses and lined with tropical fruit trees, and everything seems more peaceful and quiet. Following the very descriptive directions provided by our host, we managed to find the quaint little green and yellow bungalow that would be our home for the next little while, overlooking the only river on the island, la rivière des Sources. We were warmly greeting by Helena and her husband, who showed us the house, the land, and the wonders of a ti-punch made with the best rum on Marie-Galante. And we chatted of travel and culture, and the appreciation of something that comes from the earth and has soul to it, be it Guadeloupian rum or Canadian maple syrup. The whole conversation made our small gift to our hosts even more symbolic.

We spent the evening enjoying the peace and quiet of a blissfully large and breezy back deck overlooking the river, and contemplating how wonderful life would be if this was what you came home to every day. Mario mused that this must be where great writers comes to compose their life's work. Now I am calling him Hemmingway.

Until tomorrow.