A story about rain

Sometimes I wonder if the world knows when we have travel days, and plans the weather accordingly. It's another travel day - Mario and I are packing all of our posessions into our bags(some of us with more success than others), and taking the ferry back to the main land for the next, and last, week of our trip. This morning, the sky is clear and bright blue as we sit on the patio and attempt to hide our last bowls of granola in the village of Canada from the ever-friendly and bold little birds. Clouds begin to appear just after we say our goodbyes to Daniel, our host, who gifted us this week with fresh tomatoes he gets from a friend, and bananas he grows himself. by the time we are driving into Grand-Bourg to return the rental car and check our bags at the ferry, it has started to sprinkle. 

In between showers, we make our way into town for a coffee, since waiting inside the cramped ferry terminal is not ideal. I look forward to when the current construction of the new terminal will be done, and have my fingers crossed that I will get to see it on our next trip here in 2 years. I think that's generous, but this IS Guadeloupe, and things are always done differently here. People go about their business in town, sheltering under building overhangs when the rain falls intermittently, then continuing along. No raincoats, no umbrellas - rain here is a part of the everyday, and so it's normal to just get wet. 

We board the ferry with plenty of time to spare, but just in time, as the rain begins to fall hard when we take our seats. It's not a full crossing like when we arrived, being midday, and no longer the New Year holidays. People are now back to their normal daily routines. The clouds encircle the boat, the island, the mainland, and the skies are dark with rain. The waves are a little more rough, so I concentrate on the en-route "entertainment", a kids' cartoon playing on two small screens at the front of the boats, rather than the way to boat rolls over the waves.

An hour later, we pull into Pointe-à-Pitre, a little shaken but otherwise fine, and collect our bags, our next rental car, and our snacks for the drive. Traffic here is a little ridiculous near the towns and big city as the roads are nowhere near big enough for all the car traffic. We know it's going to take twice as long to get anywhere, even in the middle of the day. And as the rain begins to fall again, we know it's going to take even longer. 

Through the suburbs, past the big shopping malls of Les Abymes and the airport we go, driving through Morne-à-l'Eau with its black-and-white cemetery, Petit-Canal and its technicolour houses, all the way up to sleepy Port-Louis, with the amazing beach, but nothing else. Carole, our host, is waiting to greet us, and excited to show us the work she had done on the upstairs rental since our last stay here. It being just recently completely, she offers us the chance to be the first to stay there, give it a sort-of "test run", as she has no other renters for the week. Of course we agree - the biggest draw, besides all the extra space, is the fact that it has a massive balcony running the length of the building, offering views over the entire town of Port-Louis below, as well as the amazing views of the sunset, which is the best I have seen anywhere in Guadeloupe. She gives us the run-down of how everything works, asks us to take note of anything that doesn't so she knows what needs to fixed next, and gifts us a basil plant and a rather large eggplant from her garden.

Sculpture honouring a well-known local musician

Mural showing oxen racing

And with that, we settle in. Walk through town. Get some groceries. Avoid Papi, who is still blasting music from his stall, just like 2 years ago (if you don't know THAT story, check it out here). Come back just before the rain hits again and have a Ti'Punch while doing a few loads of laundry. It's a nice to arrive somewhere and have that feeling of comfort and belonging wash over you. Just like rain.