M. Johnsonstein Would Be Proud (or Appalled)

Everyone who went to my high school the same era I did and took French developed the same unusual accent -- apparently it's Parisian French with a (Louisiana) creole-American accent.  An accent that a certain Belgian taxi driver once called "cute". Mr. Fred Johnson, who referred to himself as Monsieur Johnsonstein and gave many students creative nicknames believed in immersion.  So the first day of high school, after a mostly useless year of French in junior high, he began speaking to us only in French.  By the next year we were reading French literature and writing essays in French.

Alas, the number of French conversations I've had since school is rather small. Even without boning up on my French before this trip, I was able to communicate enough..  A previous post describes our arrival in Martinique.  The 2+ days we were there gave us ample opportunities to speak French....and, alas, make more than a few linguistic blunders.  But starting each conversation with "bonjour" or "bon soir" and then using French for the next sentence(s) opened up lots of doors and many people were willing to speak English after my good faith efforts.  Merci, M. Johnsonstein!

Martinique was beautiful. Lots of topography.  Extremely green -- even to this Western Oregonian's jaded eye with respect to green.  Many flowers.  Beaches -- secluded and otherwise.  Views.  Interesting weather -- rain started and stopped like turning on (or off) a spigot.  Very friendly people. 

It was raining our first morning so we decided to venture inland.  Specifically to Mont Pelee, the tallest volcano on the island.  We took a few rest stops on the drive (aka stopped to find a few caches).  It was pouring when we got to the parking area, and the visibility was, well, not much.To hike or not to hike, that was the question.  We hiked, but we were clever enough to bring our jackets which prevented us from getting totally soaked.  We started up and soon passed a radio tower.  It stopped raining, we walked a bit more, it started raining, we kept walking.  We encountered a few hikers descending who warned us that it was very slippery.  But we were close to the cache so of course we continued, even though we couldn't see the radio tower we'd passed a few minutes earlier.  Cache found, we descended.  Success.

Several times during the day we noticed a cow grazing by the side of the road. Every time there was at least one "goose" accompanying the cow (maybe not a goose, but definitely a white bird). We finally took a picture the next day when we saw yet another cow and goose. 

Our second, and last, full day was a bit sunnier, though perhaps that was because we woke up earlier.  Unlike the Oregon coast where it seems that there are morning clouds that might burn off Martinique seemed to be the opposite -- clear in the early morning and then the clouds roll in.  Anyway, we decided to explore the beaches to the South, having seen many of the beaches to the North.

One stop was a gorgeous view and we explored for a bit.  As we approached our car, an older man who turned out to be a retired Frenchman living in Martinique told us -- in English -- about a place to watch les tortues (the turtles) shortly after sunset but only on weekdays since the restaurant lights on weekends seemed to interfere.  We chatted for a few minutes before he asked where we were from.  His double-take when I said "the US" was priceless and he was impressed.  He also warned us not to go to Mont Pelee because it was dangerous but we told him we'd been there the day before.

We continued on our way and eventually decided to spend the afternoon enjoying the hotel pool.  The only English-speaking guests we encountered were also there -- we'd had dinner at adjacent tables the night before and they'd asked us some questions about Martinique that morning. We had a lovely and decadent swim before venturing to see the sunset.

At home -- 45 degrees north -- a sunset is a long-ish activity. Down here at 14 degrees north it's faster.  Much faster.  We arrived a few minutes before sunset and probably only stayed 10 or so minutes before "the show" ended.

We missed our opportunity to add Martinique to our list of places we've eaten Japanese food.  Jeff had noticed a sushi place, a rather dubious sushi place, that had looked closed, then was open for lunch, but unfortunately closed for dinner.  Oh well, we consoled ourselves that it had looked dubious.  While we were eating dinner at a Brazilian place we got a text from the Michigan honeymooners asking us about the boat, so we exchanged a couple of texts about meeting at the airport and sharing another taxi en route to the boat.  The plan worked, even though we hadn't specified a meeting location -- the offsite car return or the airport itself (we connected at the latter) -- and we all saved $ (er, Euros) as well as had fun chatting.

Happily, the boat ride to Dominica was smoother than the one to Martinique had been.  And it was even more or less on time.