Habitation Cote-sous-le-vent and Kassavs

Woke up to the sound of a river rushing past our Airbnb in Ferry, and a kitten announcing her presence on the outdoor patio. She is sleeping on a cushion this time, not the top of the cabinets, but comes right in and follows me around as I get breakfast ready. Two days in and we still haven't fed her, but she keeps coming back for cuddles...I don't get it.

On the menu for today's adventure - a stop at Habitation Cote-Sous-le-Vent, a sort of interpretation cenere for creole life on the western side of Basse-Terre. It turns out that this side of Guadeloupe, sheltered from the harsh winds coming in from the ocean, was a prize location to live and work the ground, but hard to get to before it was connected to the rest of Guadeloupe by the mountain pass, the Route de la Traversée. And even further back, it was only really accessible by boat! 

Part museum, part arboretum, part curiosity, we spent about 2 hours touring the gardens of the Habitation, as well as inside the buildings learning about history. There were also lots of local woodworking tools, since Pointe-Noire is a well-know artisanal woodworking hub. One room was entirely dedicated to Piracy in the Caribbean - that was weird. Why do all pirate effigies now have to look like a knock-off version of Johnny Depp in "Pirates of the Caribbean"? There was also a "pirate" treehouse, some tangram and sudoku wooden games in the garden, and a cyclo-tour up in the trees, which was unfortunately closed for its annual maintenance. Mario was sad. 

When we finished up and the museum, we headed back up the coast to La Perle, and neighboring Rifflet for Kassavs, because it's Sunday, and Sunday is Kassav Day! It's also beach day, so we had to drive a little further than usual to find a parking spot on the road, but that's ok, it's a nice walk. We stop in to the Rifflet Kassaverie for some of those tasty manioc flour cakes, the ones stuffed with ham and melted cheese. Inside, the owner is conversing with a French family regarding limes, and taking out glasses and rum from a cupboard in the back. He calls to us, "Messieurs Dames!" and motions to the table where they are slicing the citrus fruit into the glasses. Of course, Mario is all for this offer of drinks, while I am always a little more hesitant, but give in and follow pretty quickly. The owner arbitrarily asks us for our kassav order, flips 2 ham & cheese cakes into bags, piping hot, and sets them aside before rejoining the group. We pass around a bottle of Reimonenq rum(though it might not be what's in the bottle) and a bottle of the thick, molasses-y sirop de batterie to sweeten, squeeze the thick slices of lime, and then toast to the owner in thanks for this it's-barely-noon drink. Then we refresh ourselves with some cold spring water the owner has brought out for us. We pay for our kassavs, thanking him again, and the owner insead thanks us - he's been looking for someone to drink with for 3 days, so he has been thirsty for 3 days! 

A little more happy, Mario and I head to the beach, with me balancing the piping hot kassavs in one hand, and duck into a grove of trees. Sitting on a palette left behind by someone, and out of the open, we tuck into the delicious manioc flour sandwiches, cheese still all gooey inside. We're still not allowed to picnic at the beach, and though this probably doesn't qualify as a "picnic", we don't want to be those tourists flaunting our ignorance out in public. But we are hungry, and the kassavs are so good.

We spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach, the turquoise water so warm, but the wind is whipping sand into the air, and soon we are coated in a fine layer of it, stuck in our sunscreen. We head to the ocean to wash off, and upon returning, our towels are covered in sand, like the beach is trying to take over. We shake, rinse and repeat, taking a break in between to nap, then decide to head back to the rental.

A quick stop in Deshaies for a few necessities: limes, flip-flops, postcards and stamps, and we discover another woman selling huge slices of cake from her front porch, so we return home with a giant slice of pineapple cake too. In the hills above the town, we can hear drums and singing, like a Carnaval practice is happening, but not. There is no official word on whether the event has been cancelled again this year, and people are not supposed to gather, but then how can you practice in case the Carnaval is on? We listen to the melodies floating down on the breeze for a moment, and then head back to the car.