Ending as we began

 It's been a quiet few days here in tropical paradise. We've settled in nicely in the little town of Port-Louis, and have fallen into a relaxing routine of quiet mornings, afternoons basking in the sun on the beach, or snorkeling in the ocean at Plage du Souffleur, and chilled-out evenings at our rental place, listening to the chorus of frogs while we have dinner and sip on our Ti'Punch. It's not very exciting when it comes to story-telling, which is why I have been quiet as of late - I didn't want to be boring. But there are always small adventures, hurdles to overcome and happenings, so I present to you now the "weekend round-up", if you will - a collection of events from the last few days. Enjoy.

• Carole, our Airbnb host, came by to visit one morning when our neighbours were checking out, and we had a wonderful chat with her about this place and its history. Behind her house, which is just up the hill, stands one of the ruined windmills once used in the sugar production the island was famous for once upon a time. She mentioned wanting to buy it before it falls into total ruin, but the building stands on the property of the police station just behind, which makes it military property, unfortunately. This began a whole discussion about archaeological digs before new construction, and funding running out on new municipal projects, corruption(there is a scandal currently surrounding the official in charge of the cruise lines agenda in Guadeloupe), and a possible new port in town for shuttles to the "English" islands of Dominica, Antigua and Monserrat. After all this, Carole bequeathed us a whole pile of pamphlets and booklets on the history of the place...She is very well informed, and very implicated in the goings on in town, I think. She also lent us a couple of her potted plants to attract more hummingbirds to our deck in the morning!
• A surreal moment as we are walking back from the far end of Souffleur beach one evening: A car passes by us on the road that is "illegal" to drive on, and riddled with potholes. We hear it slam on the brakes and reverse suddenly, just a like a scene in a movie. The windows roll down, and we are staring right at French Bean / Michel and his wife from our adventure the other night at Papi's! They stop to chat with us for a moment in their usual overexaggerated French accents which we can only half-understand. We discover that both couples got taken advantage of at dinner, which is sad because French Bean has known Papi for 2 years! Turns out Papi has lost all of our business with his greed. French Bean and his wife invite us to their place for lunch, but unfortunately, with their busy schedule and our imminent departure, the timing just doesn't work out and we sadly have to decline. We invite them to get in touch if ever in Montreal, and they do the same if we ever find ourselves visiting Normandy - and with that, we part ways. But can you imagine the story that would have been?!
• PCR tests suck. It honestly would make me rethink travelling again. The process was thankfully very easy, once we figured out that all the info we submitted online didn't matter in Guadeloupe, and we had to do everything over again in person and by hand. Once all that was registered, we were sent to what I can only describe as a laboratory in a broom closet out back, where a nurse stuck a swab so far up my nose that it triggered my tear ducts, and I was literally crying. Had a migraine for the rest of the day. But on the bright side, the results showed up in a timely manner by email within 24 hours, so yay?
• The best restaurant in Guadeloupe has got to be the wooden shack set up at the end of the road heading out to the eastern-most point of the island, Pointe des Chateaux. We've been returning here every time we visit Guadeloupe, and twice a trip, too. The accras are the best, the sauce chien different from any other I have tried in Guadeloupe, and their fresh-pressed fruit juice cocktails are divine. I tried their "Cocktail Santé", which had strong notes of ginger and turmeric in it, but I have no idea what else. It was pure magic. And all from a wooden shack with no running water! Amazing!

• 
  Mario and I have fallen in love with snorkeling, but in our lack of preparedness for this trip, we forgot to buy snorkels, and so eventually found some here. Found out they were "14+ Adult" sized. In practice, they are not adult size, and leaked water to no end, making the experience challenging at best. But we do not regret struggling with them for one minute, given all the amazing underwater experiences we have enjoyed this trip. Of course, we are not keeping them, and I found a community centre in town with donation boxes out front, so I like to think a couple of children will now get some pleasure out of them, as we did before.
  
• Upon our last visit to the beach, I watched a young family dunk their newborn child into the waves of the ocean, while one or more family members looked on and snapped pictures. I have seen this several times, and though I am only making a guess, I would think this is almost like a "rite of passage" for a child born on an island nation, to have their very first introduction with the surrounding waters be a very significant moment in their life, where the parents and family mark the moment as a very special occasion. Or maybe it's just me reading too much into a simple family moment that I observed several times while in Guadeloupe. 

That's all for now, tomorrow is sadly our last day here. We have our bags almost packed, and will finish up over our usual lazy breakfast. Then it's a short drive back to the airport, with a pitstop to get the car cleaned before returning it. Then we begin the long process to traveling home, which seems even longer now, though it thankfully no longer includes a stopover in Paris. I gotta say, as wonderful as 5 weeks in warmth, with my toes in the sand, has been, and as much as I am not looking forward to cold and snow, it'll be nice to rediscover the comfort of my own home again. I kinda miss it.

Discovering Anse à l'Eau

 Another slow morning - Mario is not feeling 100% today - but we should go out, just so we don't sit around the house all day. We scan the tour guides over breakfast, looking for options of things to visit, and find out that we've pretty much covered all the activities in our area - and all the hiking, too. We instead turn to new beaches to explore, ones we haven't been to before. We are looking places that have the added attraction of good snorkeling, and maybe remoteness - so if we are lucky, we might just get the place all to ourselves!

Off we go, out of town, across the island and through Le Moule, south to beaches near Pointe des Chateaux. Down a road next to the Maison Zévallos, we drive towards the coast. The asphalt disappears, giving way to crushed limestone, marred by potholes, making the driving slow and arduous. Mario has a handle on it, though, acing the course, all while making several references to F-roads in Iceland, and maybe swiss cheese. About 20 minutes of challenging maneuvers and progressively narrower roads, the tree line opens up and gives way to the coast, and a cove filled with coral reefs, and a soft sandy beach - and sargasses. Yup, this beach has been plagued by the mass of seaweed too. But the water is clearer here than at Porte d'Enfer, which is, I think, due to more ocean currents in this location. It pushed the sargasses into a big mass on the side of the cove, or up onto the beach, leaving plenty of room to get into the water, and plenty of clear water to swim in. Anyway, with all the work it took to get down here, we are not heading back now!

We settle under a coconut palm, spread out our towels and head into the water. The surf is good, not too strong, so I don my ill-fitting snorkel and explore the corals. I spot lots of little tropical fish, follow some black and yellow stripped angel fish around, and take tons of blurry photos. After, Mario and I lie in the shade and eat our "Guadeloupe" ham and cheese sandwiches(the secret is guava jam), and watch as the total population of the beach doubles from 6 to 12 people. It's a great quiet place to spend the afternoon.

Somewhere after 3-ish, we slowly make our way back up the treacherous road to the highway(and breath a collective sigh of relief when we do), and head back to Le Moule. Tonight is the night market in town, so I figure it might be the perfect spot to find something for supper - and we are passing through anyway, might as well stop by. Stalls are lined up along one of the main streets. There are plenty of fruit and vegetable vendors, offering manioc, igname, bananasm but also rarer items like cherry tomatoes, bitter melon, fresh herbs - things we don't see in the grocery stores here. There are at least four accras vendors, people grilling chicken or poaching boudin sausage. There are a lot of spices, piled high in Madras fabric bags, and tables loaded with bottles of homemade infused rums, with chunks of coconut, pineapple or banana floating in them. Somewhere near the end of the market, there are a few stalls of artisanal goods: Madras dolls, seed bracelets, essential oils and soaps...We don't stay very long, as the heat today, combined with the bombardment of smells from the market, is a little too much for Mario, but I do manage to get some grilled chicken legs for supper before we leave.

While Mario cools down and gets some much needed sleep(his mighty battle with the mosquitoes is getting a little out of control), I walk through town, admiring the sunset over the water, to pick up some food we need for the rest of the week. List in hand, I head first to the bakery for the bread, then to the 8 à Huit for sandwich supplies and breakfast ingredients. I also get myself an ice cream bar as a treat, and enjoy it as I walk along the Plage du Souffleur, up through the fields, through the ZAC de Rodrigue neighborhood and back to the rental.

Oh, and after a good couple of hours of sleep, Mario was feeling like himself again, and devoured his chicken dinner. It was a good day.

Three Beach Day

 It's another slow morning in Port-Louis, spend rehashing the events of last night, popping advils to curb the music-induced headaches (not hangovers) we both are nursing, and resetting our digestive systems with a generous bowl of yogurt, fruit and granola and healthy portion of watermelon thrown in for good measure. If you are unaware of last night's happenings, you might want to head back and read all about it - it was quite the event.  

Once we felt ready to get moving again, we spent the afternoon beach-hopping around the north end of Basse-Terre. Tough thing to do, actually, since most of the north coast is steep, rocky cliffs and violent waves, but there are some hidden coves that offer a whole range of sandy options. Here's what we found:

First stop, Porte d'Enfer, past Pointe de la Grande Vigie, more on the north-east coast of Grande-Terre. We came here 5 years ago for a hike along the coastline, which we ended up not being entirely prepared for, and so once the sun got the better of us, we ended up spending the afternoon here, soaking in the cool ocean waters by osmosis. The bay here is deep, so the big waves that crash against the shoreline do so at the mouth of the inlet, and by the time they reach the beach, they are no more. 

When we arrive, though, the place is EMPTY. Surprisingly so, as I remember almost every square inch of this place full of sun-bathers and children building sandcastles. On a building at the entrance to the beach, a posted advertisements gives us one answer -  the water quality here was deemed dangerous back in 2019, due to high levels of E. Coli. The second? The wonderful sargasses - seaweed - that everyone complains about clogging up the beaches and waterways, have taken over, and the wide, deep beach is absolutely covered in them. The sargasses are likely a contributing factor to the poor water quality, too. The whole place feels abandoned, save some hikers passing through, and a lone cattle wrangler leading his cows to another grazing field. Even the resto-bar next to the highway looks empty and sad, the staff being the only people inside, sitting at a table, smoking away their day. Needless to say, we didn't go swimming!

Second stop, Plage de la Petite Vigie, on the north-west side of Grande-Terre, opposite Pointe de la Grande Vigie. I noticed the sign indicated a beach when we drove by, so on our way back, I suggested we give it a try. The beach is nice a big, and surprisingly very deep. The sand is soft and white, and there is plenty of place to lay our towels and not get too close to anyone else. Save one younger family, the average population at this spot is likely around 65, and most of them are just wandering out from their extended lunches at one of the two restaurants here that face the ocean. There is a visible coral reef just offshore, and a few snorkelers can be seen bobbing about, but the bay here is very shallow. As a result, the waves and pull of the ocean is crazy! 

I barely get in the water and start to float and I can feel myself getting dragged to the right with every wave. Mario and I don our masks and snorkels to try and explore the reef. Oh my goodness, we can barely stay still! Eventually Mario surrenders, and acts as my anchor while I swim, keeping me in place, blocking me when I get pushed too far. It's not a dangerous pull, though, the water is only 2.5-3 feet deep at most, all I need to do is stand up and regain my footing. But wow, I have never experienced water like this! Giving up on the swimming, we lie on the beach in the shade of a coconut palm for a while, then decide to move on.

Third stop, back at Plage du Souffleur - we drive down the "forbidden" road that everyone drives down, to the further end of the beach, the one only the locals and hikers know about(a trail runs this way). We pick a spot with sand and shade, and head far out to sea to snorkel and do some fish-spotting. After we get past all the turtle grass, we finally spot some small fish, some bottom-dwellers, lots of spiny little sea urchins - Mario even finds a star fish hidden in the grass! It was all very cool.

Swim, sun, swim, sun, we repeat the cycle a couple of times, but then the tiny, bitey yé-yé bugs start to come just before sunset, so we pack our beach stuff and head back into town. We pick up some supplies at the store to make a panzanella with our dry bread crusts, and head home. Tonight's rather uneventful dinner: Garlic-toasted bread crust panzanella, with tomato, cucumber, olive oil, lime juice, salt and pepper, served with the last pieces of Papi's lunchtime grilled chicken. I used the lime in our Ti'Pinch with rum and guava juice, squeeze the last drops into the salad dressing, then drop the emptied fruit into our glasses of water. 

The Papi Experience

 So, you'll have to forgive me if I don't focus too much on today's hiking, where we returned to Beauport and explored the ruins of the old port facilities. It was a great hike, passing through old-growth forests that I didn't think still existed on Grande-Terre, most having been replaced long ago by agriculture in the form of sugar cane fields for obvious reasons. We saw small indications of where the old rail lines had once run, passing all along the length of the trail down to the coast, for shipping out sugar, or receiving factory materials, as well as crumbling cement buildings twisted up with rusting metal rebar. There was even a sheltered picnic table on the waterfront, where we snacked for a moment on trail mix, and watched a family of cats roll around in the jungle, clearly very at home. All this was great, wonderful, a beautiful experience, but it gets overshadowed by the events of this evening, which I will try to describe as vividly as I can, because I know that even that won't do it justice.

Let me set the stage: Remember how I mentioned that we had finally found our chicken guy, a strange dancing man on the side of the N6 highway, who gave us a complimentary bunch of bananas? We returned today, after our hike, to pick up more chicken, and this time he gifted us a beautiful perfectly-ripe pineapple. He also mentioned that tonight he would be making "colombo", a traditional Guadeloupean curry dish. So I asked what time, he said 6, and I replied great, see you tonight. Now, you can understand how I would take this to mean we'd be returning at 6 to purchase a take-out dish of colombo for our dinner. This is NOT what the dancing man meant. Upon returning from the beach at 6 pm, covered in sand and on our way home to shower, we stop by to pick up our colombo. The dancing man, who shall forthwith be know as Papi, sets out two chairs at a table covered in a plastic tablecloth that he has just cut, insists we sit down, and brings us each a plastic cup of Ti'Punch. He goes and gets himself a beer instead, (because he is hot, and rum just makes him hotter) toasts with us, then returns to his kitchen to start the colombo. Uh oh.

(At this point Mario and I knew we were in for something "special", so I took out my notebook and started scribbling down all my observations. I'll interject explanations as the need arises. And it will.) 

In a large cookpot on the floor, he tosses chopped onion, garlic which he has smashed with force on the counter. I see smoke rise from the pot. Then he stirs it with a wooden spatula, and he tosses in the contents of a second pot - maybe broth, I don't know (It was the poached chicken and poaching liquid, likely also containing the colombo spices). Loud music is playing and Papi interjects his own lyrics in the chorus.

A rice from a large bag gets poured into another pot on the floor (seems Papi has more than one propane burner set up on the floor, I did not see this one, but the rice had to be cooking on something, so this is my assumption). I notice a string of photos lining the "bar" - photos of people clearly performing on stage. Who could they be, and what is their relation to this mysterious man?

Papi picks up on our accent, begins debating history with us, how France sold Quebec for sugar, to keep Guadeloupe and Martinique. Turns out Papi know a little history, a little politics, though it might be a little mixed it - then he goes into a speech  about how we are all living on a "volcano", like Hawaii, that will eventually explode, and it is rumbling under our feet, especially in Port-Louis. (Now, you can easily read this as both an actual volcano, or a metaphor for something else, given the political unrest in Guadeloupe right now. Either way, Mario observed at this point that he didn't realize we were getting a sermon with our Ti'Punch tonight!)

 I inquire, and the mysterious musician photos above the "bar" ARE of the musical group Kassav', the first group to get Gwoka music recognized internationally. Apparently Papi knows / is friends with most of the members of the group. At this point, our empty cups are whisked away from us, and refilled with a second rather generous on the rum Ti'Punch. Papi complains that his other table has not arrived, but that he doesn't care, as he will charge them for their meal anyways. The colombo is still stewing away.

We notice sausages hanging in the kitchen, which Papi says are andouille. Mario observes that he recognizes andouille from Louisiana, in dishes like jambalaya that have a creole influence...oh, that makes sense.

We discuss the amount of people we see on the beach compared to the amount we have not seen in town. Papi informs us that, because of the sargasses(seaweed), all the tourists from Sainte-Anne and Gosier and Saint-Francois make their way out to Port-Louis, to arguably the most beautiful beach on Grande-Terre to spend their days. They eat at the food trucks because it is cheaper. They shop at the beach stalls because it is cheaper. Then they drive back to their posh apartments and villas and hotel rooms, leaving poor Port-Louis in the dust. This is why nothing is open at night, why all the restaurants have closed, why the beach area has changed so much in the past 5 years, and the town so little.

Oops. Dropped the pot lid - it hits the floor with a clang.

We watch as people drive into town. Having seen the beginnings of a barricade set up in town, across the road and in front of the Mairie, I can't help but wonder if any of these cars are heading that way to help. Will they set the tires on fire? Will we hear about it in the news tomorrow? Should we maybe have skipped all of this and headed to the safety of our rental instead? I take another sip of Ti'Punch and promptly lose all those questions in an alcohol-infused fog.

Turns out, Papi started this restaurant work after having served in the French military, He used to own a food truck, and always set up his grill next to the Poisson d'Or restaurant down by the waterfront. He thinks that he maybe remembers us from 5 years ago, but he also seems to be in an alcohol-infused fog, so who knows?(I do remember a grill in the alley next to the resto from our last visit to Port-Louis, but I certainly don't remember Papi!)

Turns out, the colombo is delicious, just a little bit spicy and perfectly seasoned (Papi does check this occasionally in the back, and re-checks with us once he's serve us). He's got 2 tables set up, and table 2 finally shows up around 7:30, with their own bottle of rum, already half empty, and fresh limes in hand. Papi introduces the man as the most famous actor in France(I laugh). Is it true? I have no idea, but he acts like a lot like Mr. Bean, over-exaggerating his comedic movements and making funny faces and such. What a curious cast of characters roll in and out of this place!

Mr. French Actor (whos name is Michel) makes the rounds, fills up my glass again, so now I am drinking straight 50% rum. "Ça vient du coeur, " he says. The music playing is one of the songs we've heard repeated over and over on Accuradio's Zouk station, so Mario and I belt out the lyrics, "Il a volé la casquette de maman". 

As more info is reavealed, I glean that Michel's father was the famous French actor (maybe), but I still don't know who that is. I think maybe something Ernest, but the music is so loud, it's hard to understand anything being said...Regardless, Michel is an absolute riot! He points repeatedly at the photos above the bar, a man in a guitar, then to Papi, insisting Papi play his guitar, because he is so good...Did Papi used to play with Kassav'? Was he a part of the band? Either way, he flat-out refuses. "C'était trop dangereux la musique." He says. Seems it lead Papi down some pretty dark paths once upon a time. Michel(or French Bean) seems to think Papi was part of the group - keeps insisting his playing is magic. Papi still doesn't want to get his guitar.

Our plates are empty, our stomachs full and we are laughing our heads off at the conversations happening around us, with Papi, French Bean, and now Patrick, an on-strike mail carrier who stops by for a smoke, and is very insistent on showing us photos of his daughters and grand-daughter on his phone. He tries to scare us by remarking that it is now 3 minutes past curfew (yes, we broke the 8pm curfew, but we were only half-way through the meal, and couldn't figure out how to make a getaway without insulting our host, so we took our chances) and that we are all in trouble, but he doesn't care. He also won't stop remarking how pretty my eyes are - then how pretty Mario's eyes are...(Upon later research and news-browsing, I discover Patrick in a video news report regarding the striking postal workers of North Grande-Terre - turns out he is the official spokesperson of the movement!)  A little later, French Bean and Patrick start dancing together, shirts up, bellies showing.  Why?  Who knows.  Things are starting to get a little surreal.  Finally, Patrick wanders off, after having bought a couple of cigarettes from Papi.

We witness a string of people stopping in at Papi's, mostly to buy a cigarette or two, sometimes a couple of bottles of Heineken. I think Papi is the local "go-to" guy - you need something, Papi has got it, and he's open late, too. Papi seems a little shady, but just shady enough to not be dangerous - at least, we hope so. (It does illicit a few questions that nether of us verbalizes during the evening, only once we are safely home and rehashing the evening's events together)

Big chunks of watermelon get served up for dessert, cut with a really big knife right on the table.  Papi insists we don't spit out the watermelon seeds, but that we should eat them instead, because spitting them out would be wasteful, and a waste of time. After "dessert" Papi gets us all up dancing, repeating the same slow song over and over and over again. Feeling the evening winding down, we try to ask Papi for the bill, and he, of course, evades the question. French Bean slips Papi some unrevealed amount money (he's been here before and knows the procedure),  bids us good night, and away he and his wife go, likely to return tomorrow. Seems they come here often. 

Papi then begins to start closing up shop.  Mario and I help put away the chairs, stack the 2 tables, but can't seem to get Papi to divulge the total of our bill - it is starting to feel a little like Hotel California, where you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. Finally, we get an answer from Papi, "because I like you, 25 for you, and 25 for her, " he tells Mario. Well, there you have it, the price of all that fun. It was almost expected - when stuff flows that freely, you're likely going to get hit with a big bill, or a surprisingly small one. (Mario later told me he felt this was going to be an expensive night when he sat down.  Ends up we payed 50 euro, about $75, for a meal we later calculated should have cost about 26 euro when compared to similar meals we've had here.)

Papi of course hands us a lovely parting gift, a quarter of the watermelon he hacked up on our table, and tries to encourage us to return by dragging out frozen pans of seafood that he insists is very much in season now, and that by next week will be "interdit" - forbidden. Neither one of us bites, and we manage to escape without the promise of a return visit.

So, you can imagine after a night like that, we were reeling a little when we got back to the rental. It had been a great night, if jus a little bizarre, and got ruined by the over-inflated price tag. We knew we were going to be paying more for the colombo, and the drinks, and the show - for lack of a better word - but not as much as we did. I unfortunately did not notice how much Michel handed over, though he did show up with his own rum, so maybe that helped? Regardless, it left us feeling a little sad about the whole evening. We had had so much fun, and it all got a little ruined by Papi taking advantage of our generosity. Needless to say, we won't be heading back there again this trip, not even for our lunchtime chicken legs  - we don't want to have to answer to Papi.  But, then again, it does give us a great story to tell.

The good, the bad and the ugly

 It was a day of discoveries and small wins for us, but it was also a day of small trials to overcome. Not everything went the way we wanted, but ultimately we had a great day and finished with smiles on our faces, and that's all that is important, right? It was a slow, hot morning, not necessarily encouraging for getting out exploring. I got stuck into a rather long blog, while Mario used the time researching things for us to do for the week here in Port-Louis. We decided today would be the day we'd find our dinner plan, and headed out to the shop that gave be the food advice yesterday. Yes, they had rotisserie chicken, but as luck would have it, the stuff was so popular, it was already sold out! Most had been pre-order last night even! Just our luck. The owner promised us more on Tuesday, and so we exited empty-handed. 

Right across the street stood the neighborhood dancing man. Upon our arrival in town we drove by his house a couple of times looking for grocery stores, and he was parked outside his house, next to a rather loud karaoke system, dancing by himself. It was a comical sight. Today, he was doing the same, joined by a couple of buddies drinking beer on the sidelines, but this time he was dancing behind a large grill covered in chicken legs! What luck! We headed over to inquire, and left with a packet of smoky grilled chicken legs, and a complimentary bunch of finger bananas! I think we just found our spot. 

Food safely stashed at home for later consumption, we headed back out to visit the Beauport Sugar Cane factory museum. It was one of the suggestions made by our Airbnb host, and we are aware of its existence, but Mario and I have an aversion to anything that involves a tourist train, so we've never really looking too much into visiting it before. Turns out we were very wrong about the place. It is not a silly train ride with a museum attached, it is the history of a sugar refinery that established a town, and an employee co-op that radically changed the perception of the sugar culture in relation to slavery and proper employment, up until Hurricane Hugo came along - twice! - and destroyed all of that. 

So we get to the place, following the hours posted in all the guidebooks, on Google and on the official website. There are train tours every hour from 2 pm on. We arrive at 12:30 to be able to tour the grounds, enjoy the museum, but the ticket window is closed, and the doors are exit only because Covids. So I dance around the window until I get the attention of the attendant inside. She explains to us the plan of the site, how the train tour will take us through the sugar cane fields, but that we really should come back for the next tour at 2:15 so we can follow the guided tour. We should go home for an hour to relax and have lunch. Ok, I  guess we'll do that - see, we had already eaten lunch in anticipation of spending the afternoon at Beauport, so her suggestion was not really a welcome one. Regardless, we follow her advice, go home, lie on the bed for a while, trying to keep cool, then drive the 6 minutes to get back to the museum. 

Great, she said, glad you are back, it's 2 pm, here's your tickets, go and enjoy the museum and grounds to the fullest, but come back here for 2:15 for the beginning of the tour. Umm...ok? 15 minutes to appreciate something to the fullest is not gonna happen, but we figure we'll just get more of a chance after the tour to do so, so we really don't think too much on this fact. 

The tour is great - really great. Our guide(who's name escapes me, sadly), is knowledgeable, animated, entertaining. He interjects personal experiences and stories into his explanations, making the history he is talking about seem much more real. We travel through a series of buildings, all used in different roles during the time of the sugar refinery - a dispensary, a kindergarten, administrative. There's the "master's" house, which after the abolishment of  slavery in 1848, became a place to welcome important investors or dignitaries. We tour inside the president's home, a beautiful wooden case creole, designed in the same style as some of the places we've stayed in, but much more grandiose. Turns out, this too was razed to the ground following the Hurricane, and rebuilt completely following the agreement to begin restoration of the site in 2002. 

We make our way towards the back of the site, where we pass the ruins of a windmill, so common in this area, then the skeletal metal structure of what is still standing of the main sugar refinery. You can't go inside for obvious safety reasons, but our guide mentions how they have been working to try and fix this, shore up walls and roof piece to make certain sectors safe for everyone. The obstacle they hit it the reluctance of the older generations not wanting the ruins touched, fearing that in making it new, the history will be lost. Sadly, it's in doing nothing that the buildings will eventually fall, metal returning to the earth, and the history most certainly will be lost. It's a sad battle to be fighting.

The train ride is actually quite nice. The cars are brand new and beautifully painted, their bright orange standing out so well against the blue of the sky. We travel the rail line that was used to transport the cut sugar cane from the fields of Beauport back to the factory for processing. Five kilometers from the site, a small station is set up, with a park and snack shop(closed because it's Sunday), for us to spend some time enjoying the views of the still-planted fields, though they are now used for the production of rum instead. And 10 minutes later we are back on the train, following the same rail line back to the museum. This train is supposed to run every hour, but ours is the only one I've seen - and heard - all afternoon. Besides our tour group of 6, a family of 10 people have joined in for the ride, with 3 little girls fighting for the best seats or best swing in the park, even though there are enough for everyone.

Back at the station, our guide explains the production of sugar from the cane, showing us all the derivatives and by-products, including vinegars, freshly-pressed juices, syrups and molasses, and, of course, rum. This is followed by a tasting of a few of the products, some of which are produced by the association in charge of the factory and museum now, and are available for us to pick up in the gift shop. And with that, he bids us a good afternoon, and starts cleaning up. Everyone heads to the exit - but I ask if we can slowly wind our way back through the site to get a more in-depth look at the exhibits we passes through so quickly earlier. He says, sure, we can head up to the windmill to climb it, but that the other buildings are closed after the tours because - you guessed it - Covids. So we do climb the windmill, and head back to the gift shop, which is also closed, and exit through the gate that the custodian is waiting to lock up behind us, as we are the last car in the parking lot at this point. 

Can I say that I feel slightly short-changed about the whole visit? We arrived early enough to be able to visit plenty of the site before starting our tour, but were promptly sent home. We were paraded through several buildings offering a wealth of knowledge, and he promise of being able to enjoy it all, but then the doors closed behind us. We should have been given the chance to explore the site at our leisure, but instead were almost ushered to the exit, and the gate locked behind us. I understand the restraints that Covid has placed on all industries - heck, I work in a restaurant, I know better than most about restrictions - but at the very least, make your audience aware of this on the website, in a press-release taped to the ticket window, or even verbally when selling the tickets! Don't short-change your clientele and then use Covid as an excuse after the fact, because that's just unfair. Needless to say, this particular visit was a real let-down, and an expensive one at that.

After that, the heat and disappointment was getting the better of both of us, so once back at the rental, we grabbed our bathing suits and walked down to Plage du Souffleur for a dip in the cooling water. Bobbing away in the ocean, I could feel my bad mood floating away with every wave. Even though we were on the busiest part of the beach, with the beach bar blasting music in the distance, children shrieking in the cordoned-off swimming area, and sea-doo buzzing by, I didn't care - I was at one with the water. Mario and I floated there until the sun dipped below the mountains of Basse-Terre across the bay, even though it was past 6 pm, then, cool and refreshed, made our way back to the rental.

This evening was something else - it was going so well, with our tasty chicken dinner(we'll be going back to dancing man), and relaxing on the deck, but there was a large spider in the shower, and then and even larger spider on the deck, and I really don't want to talk about it, so we'll leave it at that. If you really want to know more details, Mario summed it up on his Facebook, and I can't even read about it, it freaks me out so much. Needless to say, I had a tough time sleeping after that. Hopefully, tomorrow brings the promise of a new, and less stressful day.