A little worn out from all that hiking yesterday, Mario and I decided to take it easy today.
It began with a slow breakfast, listening to the birds squawking and darting around in the row of flowering shrubs across from our balcony.
It continued with a few lazy hours lounging on Plage du Souffleur, the waves crashing into the shore, the sand slowly slowly being filled in by other tourists, children shrieking and playing.
It finished with a drive into Saint-Francois, a visit to the weekly night market, and dinner eaten out of containers on bench. There is no way I can make the slow-cooked local specialties that we get here, short of me taking an entire day and spending it in the kitchen. Plus, there's something about waiting in line to taste the dishes of the only vendor to draw a crowd, and his stewed tomatoey squid, mashed local pumpkin and spicy boudin noir(blood pudding), did not disappoint.
Oh, and we threw in a night cap of planteurs (Planter's punch) at the local bar, Filet du Pecheur, where there is a live jam session every Tuesday night. We learned about this a couple of years ago, when we joined a Gwoka appreciation class through Airbnb, and I was happy to find out the live music is still a thing. The bar was crowded with locals and tourists alike, the drinks were strong and served with a stick of sugar cane to chew on, and the music was rhythmic, entertaining, and even a bit hypnotising.
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