Joyeux Noel
December 23, 2006
Anse Mitan, Martinique
Our friend Greg arrives today for two weeks of fun in the sun. We have been trying to figure out how to get him from the airport to the boat. It's not that far, but it is apparently wickedly expensive to take a taxi, especially if they suss that you aren't a local (the not speaking French part is usually a dead giveaway). Unlike most other Caribbean islands, traffic is a nightmare and public transportation isn't particularly reliable or even in existence. No good ole maxi taxis here!
Any road, we were asking Gilda (more on her later) for her advice, and she offered to pick Greg up at the airport! This was about 10 minutes after we had first met her. Now that's hospitality! We'll see how it all works out.
Gilda is the sister of Cheryl, our bookstore-managing friend on Bequia. Cheryl is looking for a cappucino maker for her cafe behind the bookstore, and she found a good one available in Martinique. We offered to deliver a handful of cash to Gilda, who would then buy the cappucino maker and ship it to Cheryl. So yes, Cheryl trusted us enough to let us sail away with hundreds of her dollars in U.S. currency. Clear?
Gilda has also, very slowly and patiently, been speaking French to me. I've been flattering myself that my comprehension is pretty good. However, earlier this week, when Dean and I were buying a print from a local artist, she explained in detail (and in French) the process of her printmaking. I turned to Dean proudly, saying, "I understood all that!" "So did I," said Dean, who took about an hour of French in high school. Oh. Never mind.
One very funny story from yesterday: we were walking by the little beach next to where we tie up our dinghy, and a woman dipped into the water next to us, and came up whooping and rubbing her shoulders. I know this gesture; it's the kind of gesture you make when you plunge into the 58 degree surf in Ogunquit in July (or in Katrina's case, May) and instantly begin to show signs of hypothermia. The water off Martinique is certainly more chilly than it was in the summer off Grenada (only 80 degrees now, brrr!), but come on.
Still, I think Dean and I are in for a very big shock the next time we hit the beach in New England.
Anse Mitan, Martinique
Our friend Greg arrives today for two weeks of fun in the sun. We have been trying to figure out how to get him from the airport to the boat. It's not that far, but it is apparently wickedly expensive to take a taxi, especially if they suss that you aren't a local (the not speaking French part is usually a dead giveaway). Unlike most other Caribbean islands, traffic is a nightmare and public transportation isn't particularly reliable or even in existence. No good ole maxi taxis here!
Any road, we were asking Gilda (more on her later) for her advice, and she offered to pick Greg up at the airport! This was about 10 minutes after we had first met her. Now that's hospitality! We'll see how it all works out.
Gilda is the sister of Cheryl, our bookstore-managing friend on Bequia. Cheryl is looking for a cappucino maker for her cafe behind the bookstore, and she found a good one available in Martinique. We offered to deliver a handful of cash to Gilda, who would then buy the cappucino maker and ship it to Cheryl. So yes, Cheryl trusted us enough to let us sail away with hundreds of her dollars in U.S. currency. Clear?
Gilda has also, very slowly and patiently, been speaking French to me. I've been flattering myself that my comprehension is pretty good. However, earlier this week, when Dean and I were buying a print from a local artist, she explained in detail (and in French) the process of her printmaking. I turned to Dean proudly, saying, "I understood all that!" "So did I," said Dean, who took about an hour of French in high school. Oh. Never mind.
One very funny story from yesterday: we were walking by the little beach next to where we tie up our dinghy, and a woman dipped into the water next to us, and came up whooping and rubbing her shoulders. I know this gesture; it's the kind of gesture you make when you plunge into the 58 degree surf in Ogunquit in July (or in Katrina's case, May) and instantly begin to show signs of hypothermia. The water off Martinique is certainly more chilly than it was in the summer off Grenada (only 80 degrees now, brrr!), but come on.
Still, I think Dean and I are in for a very big shock the next time we hit the beach in New England.
posted by S/V Delilah | 10:36 AM
1 Comments:
I could use some o'that 80 deg. water myself; but who can complain way up here in NE with NO snow as we head into yearend (except most of the family who headed north to ski.) Luckily, there are plenty of hiking trails.
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