A story of two walks

Today was a very big, very busy day. 

Part one started early this morning, with a good breakfast and packing all of our hiking gear into the car. It involved a drive down even more twisty roads, past the wind farm on the eastern side of the island, down the cliffside to the shore, where big waves crashed against the rocks. This is the rougher side of the island, where powerful waves coming across the Atlantic ocean, pick up speed and force and then slam into the coastline, breaking it into sharp pieces, eroding away the cliff faces. But coral reefs protect the shoreline, creating natural pools teeming with aquatic life, and calmer waters in which to swim and snorkel. As a result, most people come down here, to Anse Feuillard, and take the hiking trail that runs along the coast, to access the shoreline. Of course, we are not like most people, wanting to explore the actual hiking trail before we test out the waters. 

Not as strenuous as some of our other hikes, this one is moderately level, following the coast on those crazy eroded rocks that look like they could slice a limb right off. You have have to place your feet in just the right place - it's not hard, but it's challenging, and DEFINITELY not for the wearers of flipflops, that's for sure. Around one point, the terrain opens up, and suddenly we are in the middle of a vast plain. Surrounded by grass, the cliffs of the galette that is Marie-Galante lean over us as we walk. The sun beats down, heating the ground and the air, drying out the earth into a desert-like landscape. It's a really contrast from the lush green rainforests we traversed a few days ago on the mainland. 

Past another point, we come across what looks like a stone wall. Hidden under some overgrowth on the coastline are the ruins of an old Indigoterie, where the leaves of the Indigo plants would have been fermented, and then beaten to oxidize and create the tinted paste. Long ago lost to time, there are no more plants, and the walls are more like benches in height now, but we can still make out the shape of the rooms, hole where water would have flowed from one soaking tank to the next. We sit in the shade and snack on slices of bonbon siwo cake while watching a nearby fishman pack up his gear and head home for lunch. The sun beats down hard.

Lunch at Anse Feuillard

We decide not to commit to the entire length of the trail, which climbs back up the cliff and sweeps around to the starting point, but all on paved roads and not natural trails. Though we do prefer a circular route, we enjoy more hiking in the wilderness rather than travelling on roads. Plus, with the sun straight overhead, it's time for some lunch, and to cool off in the salty ocean waves. The trek back to Anse Feuillard is easy now that we have walked the terrain, and we make it to the beach in record time.

It takes about as long as untying our hiking boots, and we are in the water, drinking in its freshness and moisture by osmosis. Masks in tow, we head out to explore the small coral reefs that are overflowing with all types of tropical fish. But the waves are a little rougher than I expected from a place called La Piscine - the swimming pool - and so the observation of wildlife is great, but the photos are not. Suffice it to say we returned into the waves twice more to gaze at the rainbow of fish darting in and out of the corals before finally drying off and returning to the car.

Insert here an intermission, where we shower off all the sweat and sunscreen and salt and sand, nap for 20 minutes, dress up as fancy as we dare on holiday, and head back out again.

Part two began a little later than expected, but then, that's the way of things in Guadeloupe - time is merely a suggestion. Tonight, the Carnaval groups of Marie-Galante are parading through the town of Saint-Louis, a 5-minute drive down the road from us, so there is really no excuse NOT to go. Plus, how can you pass up on the chance to witness the authenticity of practice parades leading up to the big event? We certainly don't, and arrive a little early to make sure to snag a parking spot. Of course, the parade should start at 4 pm, but the only people milling about town are tourists like us, though we can hear the sounds of drums practicing at a community center in the middle of town. 

Synobole Batterie

Eventually, some locals start gathering on the roadsides around the park, a few food trucks set up and start up their smokers, a couple of enterprising individuals set up tables laden with candy, or bottles of juice, or rhum, or, or, or...this is going to be quite the event, from the looks of it! An old man works out of the back of a van painted with the letters "SYNOBOLE", and as we get closer, we see him using a square rasp to shave ice from a large block in a cooler, water dripping on the pavement below. Oh! SNOWBALL! He offers much more traditional flavours than the brightly coloured sugar syrups we see sold at the beach, groseille peyi, maracuja and sirop de batterie. Curious as to how that will taste, I order one, and watch in marvel at his technique for shaving the ice into two cups, then holding the cups together and shaking them up and down to compact the "snowball", and finally removing the top cup to reveal a beautiful cone of snow. He then pours the molasses-like syrup all over the top of the cup, and hands it to me, along with a straw. "For when it melts, you can drink it", he tells me. It tastes exactly like I expect thick molasses on snow to taste, but the old ladies next to the truck nod approvingly at my choice of a traditional flavour, which makes the snowball that much more sweet.

During all of this, we can hear the sound of drums coming from somewhere outside of town, like the rumble of thunder with none of the rain clouds. Finally, they start getting closer and closer, until we can spot marchers assembling at the end of the road, near the port, banner in hand and participants jumping and moving behind, positively abuzz with energy. The drums rolls, and the whistles shrill above the noise, and then they finally begin to march up the road towards the park, where the largest concentration of spectators are assembled. Each group is made up of two distinct sections. After the banner holders comes the dancers, moving in rhythm to the music, sometimes stopping to start up what seems like a planned choreography at certain points in the parade. Behind them comes the musicians, which can include any number of percussion instruments and horns, but is usually heavy on barrel drums being pounded on with such force that you can feel them through your whole body as they pass. There are also lots of traditional instruments, calebasse shakers and conch shells making an appearance. The largest of the groups we see (there are five) also has a group of young men cracking whips, a very traditional part of the parade, and likely a symbol from the days when Guadeloupe still allowed slavery, long ago.

We are pretty sure, from the chaos of the organisation, that this was in no way a final form of the presentations the groups will offer for Carnaval - the dances are in practice mode, or non-existent altogether, the formations sloppy at best, and the timing from one group to the next lacking in precision. I say this because the true Carnaval runs for a specific distance, and to make up for that, tonight's groups completely 4 tours of the town, each pass getting progressively more and more messy. One group in particular, the one from Grand-Bourg, would stop at the "judges'" table to complete their required performance for that round, and then just hang around and kind of disband for a few minutes. They would walk off to greet family, go get a drink, drums would be left in the middle of the road...and the next group would be in a standby formation at the previous intersection, waiting for their turn! We thought it was just a fluke the first time, the performers too excited to have finished and forgetting that they needed to keep marching, but when they did the same thing after every tour about town, we started to feel bad for the next group.

Four rounds in and we figured we had seen everything on repeat, and so decided to leave the party and go for a bite at a restaurant next to the port, Chez Henri. Sitting at a quaint little table for two, toes in the sand, we sipped Planters punch and enjoyed the only 2 dishes available on the menu tonight. You know when a restaurant offers you a menu with 2 mains, they are going to be GOOD. And they were, as was the view out to the water, boats anchored in the bay, the lights on their masts creating constellations on the water.  It was a wonderfully relaxing way to end such an eventful day.