Hot springs and departures

You know how sometimes people say you've been in a place too long when you start developing a routine? I think they are wrong. You are just getting comfortable - and then it's time to move on.

I've gotten into the habit of waking when the sun fills the little alcove where our bed is placed in the Airbnb. Not too early, but I don't have to set an alarm, and actually haven't set one once this vacation. Well, except for the morning we climbed up the volcano, but that was an exception...I head downstairs and pour two glasses of guava juice, our favorite here AND at home, and it works great both in the morning or in a rum punch. I cut up some fresh fruit, today it was banana and papaya, but we've also had pineapple, coconut and apricot pays. I mix the fruit with yogurt and crunchy muesli while Mario makes moka pot coffee and heats up some milk. And we sit down on the outdoor patio, feet baking in the sun, looking out at the garden, listening to the chickens and planning our day. 

Today, while I attempted to piece a blog together on a horribly-slow wifi connection (I set the photos to upload overnight, it's so bad), Mario hunted down beaches and hot springs for us to explore. He poured over guidebooks and maps, triangulated locations of local spots, whos directions often including turning left at the pink house, then right at the fish restaurant. Finally, successful in my argument with the interwebs, I make some sandwiches, pack up the beach towels, and we head out in search of adventure.

We head along the highway through Vieux Fort, through Basse-Terre, through Vieux Habitants, wary of debris and burn marks on the roads. There were minor road blockades erected overnight, piles of tires and pallets, burning garbage, and even one roadway covered in coconuts, but everything was cleared away in the early morning hours, leaving nothing but scars by the time we passed. We pass locations we've visited in the past, vanilla and coffee and cacao plantations, and are relieved to see Soufrière covered in clouds - at least we didn't miss out on a clear view from the top today!

Arriving in the town of Thomas, or maybe Toumas, depending on the map, we walk down a rocky incline to the ocean, where, around a bend, we arrive upon a natural hot spring pool. Here, a hot sulfurous stream comes down from the mountain and flows into the ocean. Once upon a time, someone decided to contain it in a rocky pool, so that the cool ocean water splashes over the edges and mixes with the warm mountain run-off, creating a perfect temperature for bathing. It has the added benefits of being right next to the ocean, so the views are pretty spectacular, too. Crabs crawl along the rocks, and tiny mollusks hide in the crevices. The only sticking point is the gentleman standing right next to the pool, doing "maintenance", he claims. He stands there, rake in hand, spouting the same lines to each new arrival about the fact that, if he doesn't do the work, the government certainly won't, but if you can spare a euro for his work, he'd be much obliged...clothed in only a droopy pair of red underwear, I swear he raked the same small patch of rocks the whole time we were there!

Needing a good place to cool off, and still in our swimsuits, we head back down the coast in search of other beaches, but it becomes a sort of "Goldilocks and the Three Little Bears" story: Plage Rocroy is too small, the grey sand fine, but too dull. Plage Simaho is nice and big, but covered in rocks, not sand, and lined with restaurants that are teeming with patrons eating lunch - we don't want to be their entertainment! We eat our sandwiches in the parking lot (no beach picnicking due to the Covids), and come to the realization that Grande Anse, where we have spent all our time, really IS the best beach on the southwest side of Basse-Terre, and head there instead.

Grande Anse is as sunny and warm as always, but it is earlier in the day than our usual time, and the sun is hot. We splash in the waves a bit, but ultimately fall asleep on the soft black sand that makes everything look dirty. We maybe get a little more sun than usual - those tans we've been working on just got a good little boost! When the sun descends behind the mountains, and the beach gets just a little bit cooler, we pack our towel and shoes and start the long walk back to the car.

This evening felt a little surreal. It is the same routine as usual: shower, change, walk, baguette, chicken. But tonight is the last time we'll be following this routine in this town on this trip. We make a point to spend a few more minutes with our baker, thanking him for his wonderful bread, which I think would make even a pure-bred Parisian proud (they are incredibly particular about their baguette). We say a final "bonsoir" to the young man who runs the vegetable shop in the evenings, barely lifting his head from his phone until we reach the register. Tonight, he gives us a smile - I wonder if he can sense our sadness? And we silently say farewell to the chicken joint, because they are so busy, they probably don't notice their clients from one night to the next, but the girl who bags our chicken adds an extra scoop of the spicy sauce chien on top, and we depart happy.

I know this all sounds a little sad, but we'll easily fall into a comfortable routine at the next place. We'll find a good local bakery to pick up bread or pastries, a shop for our groceries, hopefully a little fruit and vegetable stand that has better prices and riper produce than the supermarkets. We'll hunt down all the little quirks that make it different than this place, but the same in our memories. Tomorrow, we pack our bags and start something new, and that is always a good thing. Especially when you thought you were going home, but turns out, you've got another 2 weeks of vacation left. 

On to the next adventure.