The Mini-Vacation, part one

Well, I never thought I could feel any more on vacation in this tropical paradise, but Mario and I just got back from 2 days of what I can only describe as a vacation from our day-to-day routine while traveling in Guadeloupe. We had planned an overnight stay on the neighbouring islands of Les Saintes, and the escape it provided proved to be a real escape from everything. It was all really fun. 

It was a perfect start to another early morning: we bought pastries from the bakery next door to snack on while we walked down the steep hill leading from Trois Rivières to the ferry terminal. Mario got a coffee at the dock from a man who took way to long to squeeze orange juice with an electric juicer, and had to shoot the boiling hot expresso Italian-style, since we had just begun boarding.

As we sat down, the captain announced that the sea was particularly agitated, and that we should be aware there may backsplash. When your seat on the boat is already wet, you know you are sitting in the splash zone, and it does look good for staying dry. Sure enough, it was a good thing I was already wearing my swimsuit, because the waves came fast and furious, breaking high into the air around the bow of the ship, then curling its way back into the open area at the back where we had chosen to sit. Needless to say, the seat was no longer wet, but I certainly was. Dripping in fact. And laughing the whole time, because what else can you do? 

Arriving on the larger island of Les Saintes, Terre-de-Haut, we drop our bags at our rental, and head right out again - check-in isn't until much later, and there is much to be experienced! We head to the other side of the town to rent a kayak, since Mario and I both discovered our new love for this water sport over the summer, and exploring the bay seems like a great way to spend the day. The company we chose is small, but well set-up, equipping us with an open kayak, dry bag, snorkeling gear, and a great run-down of all the sights we need to hit around the bay to make the most of our rental. So, paddles in hand and life vests on, we take to the water and head out in search of adventure!

Our first stop is halfway across the bay filled with anchored sailing ships - a shipwrecked ferry, sunk about 15 years ago, sits ominously not 4 metres from the surface of the water. The waters are so clear that there's no need for diving, we can spot the cabin of the boat from our kayak. From here, we continue to the end of Terre-de-Haut and cross the open waters to Îlet aux Cabrits, a remote island that is home to only goats and a curious assortment of abandoned structures ranging from a French battery to a women's penitentiary to a 1970s discothèque to half-constructed rental villas. 

A hiking trail wanders all over the island, so we head off to explore, enjoying the beautiful vista of Les Saintes from the ruins of Fort Josephine, hiding from the rain in the melting remains of the villas that were so close to and yet so far from completion. Our best guess as to why the villas were never completed? Likely the difficulty of offering any kind of service on a desert island would be a logistical nightmare, and so construction, or maybe funding, just stopped. Now, great figuier maudit trees, their aerial roots forming natural curtains, and a handful of goats hiding from the rain, call these buildings home.

Back at the beach, we pause for a little lunch, then don our snorkeling gear and take to the water. The guide at the kayak rental mentioned these waters being particularly rich in aquatic life, and that it was one of his favorite local places to dive. And he wasn't wrong. No sooner did we start swimming that the sea floor became a field of grass, dotted with white urchins, where yellow striped fish were grazing. A school of shiny grey fish enveloped us for a moment, then continued on. Further, we found ourselves in a forest of coral, red rope sponges and yellow tubes, where spiny black sea urchins hide between brain coral, and so many colours of fish swim by, I could have constructed a rainbow with their scales.

Onwards! We board the kayak(rather ungracefully on my part!), and begin crossing to the complete opposite side of the bay. Here, Les Saintes boasts their answer to the Rio di Janiero, a mini Pain de Sucre protrusion! On the far side, we discover a sheltered bay with a handful of anchored boats, and a thin little strip of sand that arrogantly calls itself a beach, crammed solid with the lounging bodies of sunbathing tourists. We leave almost as quickly. On the other side, however, we find a wide swath of beach completely devoid of all human occupation, and labeled at the "official" Pain de Sucre beach! Looks like this area is only accessible through private land, or by sea-worthy vessel, and hey, we're in a kayak! We pull up on the beach just as a heavy, cold rain begins to fall, and make a mad dash for the water again. The sea is actually warmer than the air at this point, so we hunch under the waves as the force of the falling rain splashes water back up onto our faces. And we laugh at the absurdity of the situation, because it almost makes sense: the best place to hide out from the rain is in even more water! How novel!

Once the rain lets up again, and the sun slowly melts away the offending clouds, we make one more crossing of the bay, weaving in and out of all the big vessels anchored here, trying to catch a glimpse here and there of the luxuries of "boat-life", if that's a thing. We lay back in the kayak and let the warmth bake our skin. Finally, we slowly paddled our way back to the rental location and turned in our life vests. And the smile on my face could not have been any bigger. In that moment, I realized that today had been all about the things that I love - water, swimming, kayaking, exploration and "detective" work, with just a little bit of hiking thrown in for good measure - and I had FUN. So much fun. So much that I couldn't stop repeating it to Mario for the rest of the day. I think he got the message.

After all that sun and sand and surf, the body gets coated with a fine layer of salt, so showers were in order. We checked into our room for the night, in an Airbnb that felt part youth hostel, part artists' commune, part quirky family home. There were 4 big bedrooms set in the middle of the house, surrounded with a large covered corridor, surrounded by your "services": kitchen, dining room with large communal table, toilet and shower rooms, garden, laundry. Everything was open, even the bedrooms - no keys, and really no privacy, though we did have a curtain over our door...The hosts were lovely, but oh-so French, offering advice on the BEST restaurants to eat at, the BEST beaches to visit, which is great, but anything else to them was no good. Very narrow opinions on anything that wasn't their favorites. That's okay - in fact, I think it was even more reason for Mario and I to go out and find a great place to eat that WASN'T their favorite! 

We stopped to browse a menu at Les Fringales, who offered a nice 3-course Creole tasting menu, and as the owner plugged in the lights and made mention of the imminent 8 pm curfew(that's right, we're under an even tighter curfew now!), we opted to follow him in to eat. The place seemed sandwiched in between 2 buildings, meaning that the dining are was completely outside, covered with a hodge-podge of rooftops, canopies and curtains to protect from possible showers. Plants grew naturally, and stone pathways and dining areas were seemingly erected around them, and not the reverse. The owner made a big fuss over trying to find us a table, but really, it was all for show, as the dining room was only half occupied, and we were the last ones seated at 6 pm.

Dinner was a spectacular assortment of local specialties, elevated to another level using classic French techniques. Of course we started the way we start every meal in Guadeloupe, with a Ti'Punch of local rum, cane sugar and lime, though I chose to go with an infused and creamy Punch Coco. We started with fish, Mario enjoying a tartare of Thazard, a local tuna, and I had a crispy rolled crepe, stuffed with a creamy mix of the Catch of the Day. 

For our mains, I went for the tuna this time, a steak, grilled, serves with a beefy dipping sauce that actually paired perfectly with the heavier meat, while Mario tried the Ouassous, a large prawn species found only in Guadeloupe and quite the specialty here, flambeed with anis liqueur. It's one of those dishes that doesn't seem to have its place in fine dining, I remarked, watching as Mario twisted the head off of each creature, sucking out the delicious juices, then ripping off all of the long, spindly legs before peeling away the shells and enjoying the tasty meat inside, licking his fingers with delight. One cannot keep a serious composure faced with a scene like that, even while daintily cutting small pieces of tuna steak with a knife and fork!

Desserts were equally wonderful and delicious, a rum-infused crème brûlée and a "Bounty", a slice of coconut terrine drizzled rather generously in homemade chocolate sauce(guess which one I had?). By our 8 pm curfew, Mario was just finishing his last sip of coffee, and we were the last ones left in the restaurant. The staff was busying themselves with small cleaning tasks, likely exempt from the curfew due to their work obligations, though on this rather small tropical island, I doubt there is much enforcement of the curfew, especially on this first night of it coming into effect. All I know is, as we dragged ourselves up the hill to our rental, fat and happy, there were no gendarmes following us home.

Happy and sunbaked and so full of wonderfully-delicious food, I just about fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Today was fun.