Homecoming

It seemed natural that upon landing in American territory, I should be greeted with the sweet smell of warm and sticky cinnamon pastry. I felt the French of my environment dissipate and replaced by the American.

I was disappointed that Luis Muñoz Marín Airport was outdated and worn. There were low ceilings and cracked 'leather' seats. Not far from my gate I purchased a sad looking hot dog and ate it sitting next to passengers wearing thick winter coats. My light trench coat seemed defiant...and delusional.

As the second plane flew through endless white, my thoughts sat quietly, no longer troubled by the tearful goodbye, not yet excited by the anticipated reunion. Encapsulated by cabin pressure.

We landed early. The world seemed immediately larger. Yes, I was still on an island, but one with the proportions of a entire continent. Even when crowded with other passengers there was vastness. Not just of space, but of possibilities.

When my sister S. found me at the carousel, she cried, like she usually does. But this time I cried too. She presented me a with a winter coat, a scarf, a furry hat and a small sandwich from Wholefoods. I had been wondering about cheddar cheese lately.

It was cold, of course, when I finally stepped outside. But not any colder than I expected. What surprised me was the sun. A winter sun gives off such crisp white light. The light met the hard lines of buildings, lampposts and roads. As we road the Q10, the sun set quickly behind greenless trees.

Its good to be home.

Bearing Gifts

Going home means bringing goodies. I abhor tchotchkes. And the only thing worse than spending money to buy a tchotchke must to be gift one to somebody else. Instead, I like bringing food items. As my grandmother used to say, nothing better than something for the stomach. So, in my suitcase:

• two boxes of Cruesli
• one liter of milk
  
• 3 jars of Dame Besson Sauce Créoline
• 5 250g bags of ground Café Chaulet coffee beans
• 1 bottle of Père Labat ginger rum
• 1 box of Caoba Petit Cigarillos (from a trip to the Dominican Republic)
  

Okay, that last item isn't a food item, but its not a tchotke. The sauce, coffee, and rum are all Made in Guadeloupe. The Cruesli and milk is French. I would have included a few more things, but the strike made provisioning difficult.

I imagine that all of these items are available in New York. Surely not all in the same place. And not likely at the local bodega. But, the wonder of New York places anything and everthing - including obscure products from a small French state in the Caribbean - at one's fingertips. Still, I always travel bearing gifts. Its a particular joy to travel with a suitcase full of gifts, in anticipation of the loved ones who will receive them.

Day 8

It is day eight of general strikes. The real negotiations begun yesterday, and despite the excess of hot air, the discussions are supposedly moving along at a good clip. Still, it does not seem likely that the strike will end this week.

It must be understood that in France, people have the right to strike. And they do. Often. But, it seems to me that there is an entirely different dimension to strikes in Guadeloupe that is absent in those that take place in France métropolitain.

It is a dimension that is immediately noticeable. For one, there is racialization (1) of the conflict. The UGTG often frames the conflict as one between Blacks and Whites, despite the fact that the grand majority of people representing the State - including the President of the Regional Council, and those forming the Association of Mayors - are Antillais. It is clear that the history of slavery and colonization are important factors in explaining why strikes in Guadeloupe are different than in France métropolitain. "The Guadeloupean community was born from conflict, from one of its particularly atrocious forms that is colonization. The colonial reality was consistently marked by conflicts - often violent and bloody - at every level (2). In this context, the strike is not simply a conflict over economic interests, but an extension of the initial conflict that is colonization.

It is no wonder, then, that this movement condones its more agressive, or even violent, elements. Still, academic justifications are far from reality. I find it somewhat scandalous that Elie Domota, the spokesman for Liyannaj, has not condemned the violence (and indeed, has said that it was natural).

To be perfectly honest, the entire thing is extremely draining. I don't mean physically, even though we have been rationing since the beginning of the strike. But the low murmuring of violence... and to be held hostage by a foreign history, its burdens, pain, recriminations, hate, bitterness...there is a strong urge to flee.

And I do flee...I leave tomorrow morning for the United States. But I am very nervous that we will run into trouble on the road. There may be roadblocks, and there have been reports of violence at roadblocks. M. assures me that we will have no trouble, but that's just man talk. I am hoping for the best.








(1) ra⋅cial⋅ize/ˈreɪʃəˌlaɪz/
–verb (used with object), -ized, -iz⋅ing.

1. to impose a racial interpretation on; place in a racial context.
2. to perceive, view, or experience in a racial context.
3. to categorize or differentiate on the basis of race.

Taken from "racialization." Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. 28 Jan. 2009. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/racialization>.

(2) "La communauté guadeloupéene est née du conflit, de l'une de ses formes particulièrement atroce qu'est la colonisation. La réalité coloniale a éte en permanence émaillée de conflits de tous ordres, souvent violents et sanglants."
Georges Combe, L'explosion conflictuelle. De la signification des conflits sociaux, Etudes Guadeloupéenes, No.5, février 1992.

Grève!

The exclamation point is actually unnecessary. The strikes were hardly unexpected, and we're already in the sixth day of strikes. I've been meaning to write a post about it, but the enormity of the entire thing is daunting. Rather more complicated than writing about pastries!

Last Tuesday was the official beginning of the strike. The movement is being led by l'Union Générale des Travailleurs de Guadeloupe, or more commonly known as UGTG, a powerful workers union that is known for its strong-arm tactics. The UGTG has assembled other unions and associations to form Liyannaj kont pwofitasyon (association against profit). There are a total of 120 demands, categorized under the headings of standard of living, education, professional training, employment, union rights and liberties, public services, production, development and infrastructure, creole culture, and profit-busting.

As you can imagine, the demands are varied. Certain demands seem entirely reasonable, such as the demand for compliance with labor law that obliges companies of a certain size to hire workers with disabilities. Others seem like very good ideas, such as the creation of a inter-Caribbean organization for fishing, even if their proposal by strike seems misguided. But the demands are often incoherent: there are demands that only the national government could redress (increase in minimum wage), that seem to be at odds with each other (priority to Guadeloupeans for hiring vs. end exploitation of foreign workers).

The UGTG uses incredibly aggressive language. Before negotiations even began, the strikers threatened they were ready to do whatever was necessary to get results. They often fall back on a very popular discourse, recalling Guadeloupe's history of slavery and colonialism. The UGTG also uses incredibly aggressive tactics. Strikers have 'invited' stores to close their doors in show of solidarity, where it is understood that non-compliance will result in physical reprisals. This does not simply apply to small shops in the city, but even the largest two commercial centers (think: an entire mall) have closed to avoid conflict.

Concurrent to the general strike led by UGTG, the proprietors of gas stations have shut off their pumps since last Monday. They are protesting the arrival of a dozen new gas stations with self-service pumps (currently, all gas stations are full service).

This is actually the second major strike since my arrival in Guadeloupe. However, that strike was vastly different. The strike was led not by worker's unions, but by the owners of transportation companies, who were demonstrating against the high price of gas. They had their employees block all major roads, and life and business came to a halt on the entire island for 4 days.

An initial meeting was had on Saturday, after 4 days of back and forth, with no results; at 11:30pm, UGTG left the table en masse. This afternoon, discussions will continue, with the sole goal of forming workgroups to breakdown and discuss the 124 demands. The meeting was scheduled for 4:00, and as of 4:40, and UGTG is still no where in sight. It seems unlikely that the strike will end any time soon.

Les Divas

While Zouk remains very popular in Guadeloupe, it is not the music that younger people listen to. Instead, the most popular artists sing music that is a mixture of zouk and R&B. Mehdy Custos, born in Pointe-à-Pitre, is a zouk/r+b artist who has been able to transform local celebrity to national recognition. His new album, Ouvrir mes ailes, comes out at the end of the month. The single, Mes Divas, is out now and getting play in anticipation of the album.



Here are the lyrics:

Come, come, come, come, come... Mes divas, chauffez les divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite made in Ibiza Mes divas, chauffez les divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite... Mes divas, chauffez les divas Come, come...... C’est carrément que j’joins ce soir dans la salle Y a des divas, des belles gosses Elles arrivent de partout, elles demandent du zouk Et surtout Mehdy Custos Y en a qui sont happy dans l’coin V.I.P. Et puis y en a qui suffoquent Les mecs sont là aussi, certains sont aigris Et d’autres me donnent la force On y va Il est temps de se réchauffer De danser, de chanter, de se mettre à bouger On y va En hiver ou bien en été Quelque soit la saison ou bien le mois de l’année On y va C’est l’heure H et le moment M Pour ceux que le zouk entraîne sur les pistes et les arènes On y va A la mode caribéenne Medhy va sur la scène [Chorus] Come, come, come Come, come, come in dynamite-mite made in Ibiza Mes divas, chauffez les divas De Point-à-pitre à Guyana en passant par Madinina Mes divas, chauffez les divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite made in Ibiza Mes divas, chauffez les divas De Paris à la Réunion en Afrique et aux USA Mes divas, chauffez les divas Elles sont fans d’RNB et de mélodies Qui viennent de la caribbean pop Elles arrivent en baggy, en robes fleuries En pantacourts, en poum poum short Elles sont jeunes et jolies, ont des cheveux gris Y en a de toutes les sortes Des grandes et des petites, des rondes et des slim Des femmes mûres et des adolescentes [Repeat section 2] Ladies are you Come, come, come, come, come…. Mes divas, chauffez les divas [Chorus x 2] Come, come, come Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… Mes divas, chauffez les divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… Mes divas, chauffez les divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… (alé di yo) Mes divas, chauffez les divas, divas

Come, come, come, come, come... My divas, warm up the divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite made in Ibiza My divas, warm up the divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite... My divas, warm up the divas Come, come...... I'm definitely coming to start the party tonight. There are divas, beautiful girls They come from everywhere, they ask for zouk Especially Mehdy Custos Some are happy in the V.I.P corner Some are suffocating The guys are there also, some are bitter And others give me strength Let's go Its time to heat ourselves up again To dance, to sing, to get moving Let's go In winter or even in summer No matter the season or the month in the year Let's go It's hour H and moment M For those who are led to the dance floor and the arenas by zouk Let's go Carribeen style Medhy coming on the scene [Chorus] Come, come, come Come, come, come in dynamite-mite made in Ibiza My divas, heat up the divas From Point-à-pitre to Guyana passing by Madinina My divas, heat up the divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite made in Ibiza My divas, heat up the divas From Paris to Réunion in Africa and in the USA My divas, heat up the divas They're fans of RnB and melodies That come from caribbean pop They arrive in baggy jeans, in flowery dresses In shorts, in short shorts They're young and pretty, have gray hair There's all types Tall and short, round and thin Mature and young women [Repeat section 2] Ladies are you Come, come, come, come, come…. My divas, heat up les divas [Chorus x 2] Come, come, come Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… My divas, heat up the divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… My divas, heat up the divas Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… Come, come, come in dynamite-mite mite… (alé di yo) My divas, heat up divas, divas

Its not groundbreaking stuff, but catchy. Last summer, he scored a very popular single with Elles Demandent.

Updates to the Blog

Above, the blog map.

I've been fiddling with the gadgets that Blogger makes available, and have added a few elements on the right bar.

In addition to the archive, posts are now also arranged by labels. I have to admit that I was not surprised that I have the most posts labeled 'food,' with 'baked goods & pastries' coming in second.

I added a list of external links about Guadeloupe. At the moment there are three:

• A blog map, which is a map I've created with Google Maps that pinpoints areas of interest that have been featured in my blog.
• An encyclopedic-style page on the culture of Guadeloupe. I have never heard of everyculture.com, but it seems incredibly well done. It is, at times, extremely simplified, but serves as a good introduction.
• The US State Department consular information sheet about traveling to Guadeloupe - don't forget your passports!

I'll continue to add more links to the list that I think you might find useful/interesting.

I spent the whole day watching the inauguration online and now I am pooped. But thank God for live streaming video! Similar to election night, the inauguration was covered on TV, but commentary was provided by French journalists, and the speeches were dubbed. And I really want to hear the words from the man himself.

In other news media, the inauguration made the front page of the three major French newspapers:

Libération, a center-left daily;




















Le Figaro, a center right daily;




















And Le Monde, the French equivalent of The New York Times where the inauguration shares the front page with the bank bail-outs.



















Obama's inauguration made the front page of France-Antilles as well:

In Guadeloupe;




















In Martinique;




















And in Guyane. Though its relegated to the small box on the right. While I realize that this is the inauguration of the American president, and not the French president, I wonder what made the Guyanese editors decide that some leaky pipes should be the top story?














Watching the inauguration is obviously not the same thing as being there. I am sure that if I were back in New York, I could at least share my enthusiasm with other fellow citizens. As it is, it was just me and my laptop. But, I was still so happy to see it, and seeing the enormous crowds of fellow citizens so absolutely thrilled...it gives me great joy. I didn't need to be there to feel that.

Outmatched

The floor of the house M. and I live in is covered entirely in high gloss faux white marble ceramic tiles. Not only is it hideously unstylish, it is incredibly difficult to maintain. Every speck of dirt, every strand of hair is immediately apparent. Inconvenient then, since the house is kept open and I shed like a Saint Bernard.

I like a clean house, and so its already been quite a change graduating from small apartments to a medium-sized house. Whereas I could clean house in an hour in my old apartment, it takes me almost an hour just to sweep here.

Imagine my dismay, then, to find my floor littered with gray bits the day after sweeping. I thought it might be ash from neighbors' fires. Here, people often burn refuse from the house and garden in small fires. But the gray bits have been appearing - highly contrasted against the white tile floor - for the past several weeks, with no fires in sight in the neighborhood.

M. surmised that it might not be ash from any small bonfire, but volcanic ash from neighboring Montserrat. On December 2nd, the Montserrat Volcano Observatory reported an explosion and pyroclastic flow. More than one month later, activity is still high, with new explosions reported on January 3rd.


Above, Soufrière Hills Volcano, Montserrat, taken on Dec 3rd, 2009 by Christian Guichoux (1)

From the NASA Earth Observatory website, there are pictures of the ash plume, which had already traveled 85 kilometers (53 miles) south-southwest by December 30. Residual ash had traveled 325 kilometers (202 miles) west-southwest. But the direction of the ash plume and the residual ash must be varied, as this image shows the plume extending eastward.

Above, the ash plume produced by explosions in the Soufrière Hills volcano. Guadeloupe is circled in red.

Because Guadeloupe is only 48 kilometers (30 miles) south east of Montserrat, it seems highly likely that we should be getting some of the ash. I like to think I am capable of keeping house, but I don't think even Martha Stewart could beat a volcano.

I hate to think of the mess should our very own Soufrière decide to erupt.

(1) Terre et Volcans

Americans Tourists in Guadeloupe

While doing some internet research this morning, I came across this review in the NYtimes. The writer compares the Guadeloupe to what it was 15 years ago, noting the major changes that the island has undergone in those ensuing years. Its a very different perspective, one that carries odd assumptions (the writer is astonished not to hear a word of English spoken during his two-week stay - why would he? The island is French), and a bit of misplaced nostalgia (the writer laments the rise of local cuisine at the detriment of classic French cuisine). The review was published 4 1/2 years ago, but it is actually still an accurate depiction of tourism on the island: the inconvenient flight connections, the mad driving. At the end of the article, one is certainly not convinced about choosing Guadeloupe as a vacation destination.

While I can neither claim a long nor profound acquaintance with the Guadeloupe, I certainly saw the substantial barriers to American tourists and wrote about it here and here. So it was no surprise that I also found incredibly negative reviews of the island from American tourists:

"Stay Home, Unless You Speak Fluent French: Walking on the "beach" next to our "resort" turned into a nightmare for us when a local accosted us, asking us if we were American and calling us criminals and generally ranting about all the problems of the world and how American criminals were at the center of them. Honestly my wife and I felt a bit out of place even before this, with all but a few people on the island treating us in a courteous manner. We honestly did our best to communicate and to act politely, and in my opinion did not stand out really compared to any of the mostly French tourist that happened to be around. Stares from the locals were quite disconcerting, and after the beach incident we decided to leave...Apparently American standards of sanitation are very high...All in all from the information we gathered regarding Guadeloupe we learned very little that is current and or timely. The resentment toward Americans is obvious, the populated areas are dirty, and somewhat unseemly. The flora and fauna are absolutely beautiful, and I'm sure that this island is world class as far as its beauty. Too bad the rest of the island is not."

"Go Someplace Else!!!!:
Pros: Beautiful island
Cons: They hate Americans!!!
The Bottom Line: Travel to a more pleasant island where the locals are a bit more friendly."

Both reviews were taken from epinions.com. To be fair, these 2 reviews were the only completely negative reviews out of 9. But, to be fair, the other 7 repeated many of the same complaints. I imagine also that the strong anti-American sentiment was related to the time period (both reviews were written in May 2003, which marked the end of the Iraq invasion and the beginning of the occupation), and that American tourists would find attitudes much altered (read my posts about Barack Obama).

What I can say is that Guadeloupe should never be the destination of choice for (White) tourists seeking to (re)live the good 'ol colonial days. Nor should it ever be for those simply looking for Caribbean sun and surf served with rum cocktails. There are far better (and cheaper) destinations that meet the (arguably high) expectations of Americans. Those Americans who would venture here should be interested in the life and culture of this island that I try to describe here - the politics, the music, the food, etc. - with, of course, a bit of sun, surf, and rum thrown in.

Island Origins

Above, Lilian Thuram on the left, Teddy Riner on the right.

The Tuesday edition of FranceAntilles featured as its leading article what its editors considered the top 10 things Guadeloupe has going for it in a time of economic uncertainty. High on that list was its athletes. While there is quite a long list of high performance atheletes originating from Guadeloupe, two stand out from the rest.

Lilian Thuram was born in Pointe-à-Pitre on January 1st 1973. Thuram is considered by some to be "one of the most successful footballers in the history of the game" (1). He made a name for himself as a dynamic and incredibly performant defender in some of the best soccer clubs in Europe, including Juventus and FC Barcelona. In addition, having been selected 142 times to play for the French national team, he holds the record for France's most capped player. Though his greatest exploit maybe his participation in the 1998 World Cup, where France won 3-0 against Brazil, the favorite. Thuram retired this past summer upon the discovery of a malformation of the heart.

Teddy Riner was also born in Pointe-à-Pitre on April 7th 1989. Riner is a judoka who has exploded into the judo world. He began wonderfully by becoming Junior World Champion in 2006 and in 2008. He made vice champion of France in 2007, and champion the following year. He brought home a bronze during the Olympics in Beijing. For the 2007 World Championships, he won the gold medal for his category (100kg+). His most recent exploit was becoming the youngest judoka to win the gold medal in the 2008 World Championships (all categories). He is 19 years old.

The claim that they are Guadeloupean is an exercise in semantics. While both were indeed born in Guadeloupe, both moved to France métropole soon after. Time actually spent on the island amounts to infancy and school vacations. But If Thuram and Riner are accepted as Guadeloupean by Guadeloupeans themselves, it is perhaps a testament to both their success and their popularity; Guadeloupeans are not always so welcoming. Indeed, those like Thuram and Riner are given a name here: they are called négropolitains. There doesn't seem to be an exact definition: the term négropolitain can define people like Thuram and Riner, that is, those who were born in the Antilles, but raised in France métropole. Or, the term can apply specifically to Antillais who have lived for many years in métropole and who have returned to the West Indies. Or, it can apply to the offspring of Antillais in France. What is clear is that it is usually used in a pejorative sense.

I'm sure no one has ever called Thuram or Riner négropolitains. For winners like Thuram and Riner, there must be some unwritten understanding that if you succeed fabulously, you'll always be welcome.

(1) Soccernews.com

Galette des Rois: La Fève, 2

Mathematically, it makes sense that M. should find the second fève as well, since he eats the lion's share of the galette. I guess he is my king, after all.



The fève is a cow. But, seeing as it is somewhat smaller than the donkey, it may be more accurate to call it a calf.

Fiesta Rice

I am a great fan of rice dishes. Culturally, that make sense, as rice is a staple in Chinese cuisine. More importantly though, I like rice because it is amazingly versatile. It can be made in a variety of ways, from simple steamed white rice to more complex risottos. And, of course, because rice is a staple of many cultures, there is an endless array of dishes that features rice, with very different tastes and flavors.

I must have first come across 'fiesta rice' on some Food Network program years ago. There is a strong urge to disdain a dish that promises a party - and an ethnic party at that. But, who can say no to rice? Besides, I find the name amusing and have taken to naming any sort of colorful rice dish 'fiesta rice' (at least in my head). I used to make a pseudo-Mexican inspired fiesta rice, with corn and jalapeno peppers.

Here in Guadeloupe, I've come up with a new version of fiesta rice, somewhat by accident. I started making a rice dish, flavoring it with local hot peppers, and threw in some leftover shredded carrots. The end result has all the typical Antillais flavors, and is, of course, a fiesta in a bowl.

The ingredients are listed below, though the quantities vary depending on what I have on hand. Unfortunately, I have not been able to positively identify the chili peppers that are widely found and used in Guadeloupe (Here, all chili peppers are universally called piment). I've narrowed down the second piment listed as either habernero or scotch bonnet. For both, I've provided an image; perhaps you would know better than me. If I figure out what the first piment is, I will amend this post.

I've I've written the basic instructions, though new cooks and follow-the-book cooks may find it incredibly vague.

Ingredients:
1 cup uncooked rice
1 medium-sized onion, finely chopped
4 piment, de-seeded, coarsely chopped (1)
1 piment (habernero or scotch bonnet), de-seeded, finely chopped (2) (3)
2 carrots, shredded (4)
3 or 4 green onions, chopped
3 cloves garlic, crushed
shredded emmental cheese
herbes de provence (a combination of dried thyme and rosemary) (5)
olive oil
butter
salt

1. Sweat the chopped onions and crushed garlic in a pan with some olive oil.

2. Add a thickish pat of butter (or more olive oil) to the pan, then add the uncooked rice. Make sure the rice is evenly coated with oil. Cook over low heat for a few minutes.

3. Add enough water to cover rice entirely. Add both types of hot peppers, carrots, green onions, herbes de provence. Cover and turn the heat up to medium. Add water as needed until rice is cooked thoroughly.

4. Add emmental before serving.

Its not a revolution of a recipe. And precisely because it is easy to make, its not very special. But its extremely flavorful and satisfying. A definite 'go-to' recipe. I often serve the rice as an accompaniment to a portion of meat, usually chicken. If I serve the rice as a main dish, I usually add meat to it. I've tried adding diots, a type of sausage from Savoy, but it was too sweet. Ground beef worked well. For guests, I've used the rice to stuff sweet peppers to rave reviews.

(1)






(2)







(3) You could probably replace these hot peppers with any other kind. Of course, it won't taste exactly the same, but would probably work just as well.

(4) The carrots don't have to be shredded. I've made the rice with chopped carrots when I was feeling too lazy to shred them. It works just as well.

(5) There is a huge local thyme plant in a flower box in front of my house, and I've used the leaves in this recipe before, but amazingly, it was not as flavorful as using the dried flakes.

Moonlit Night

Have you ever seen the moon rise between two palm trees? Unfortunately, the shot is beyond the abilities of my little Powershot. But the silhouette was crisp and clear and the light was much more golden-colored.

Galette des Rois, 2

I know what I said in a recent post about my life not being simply cake-filled holidays. Though, I do admit that there is an above average incidence of cake.

Here is the galette de rois, original frangipane, that I've been waiting for:


It is absolutely perfect. When I slipped it out of its paper bag, my fingers crushed the flaky crust. I stuck the knife into its dense heart and pulled the knife outwards. As my knife came closer to the edge, I could feel the denseness give way to airiness. That sound of air escaping. And finally, the knife cut through the edge, with flakes of pastry showering down.


M. and I ate it in silence, giving it the reverence required.

Le Sentier de la Grande Pointe

Even the most indolent will bore eventually of the beach. The Grande Pointe Trail is located in Basse Terre, not far from the city of Trois-Rivìères.

Above, Anse Grande Ravine. The trail begins in the woods on the other side of the cove.

The trail cuts through varied landscape, beginning in somewhat dense vegetation, then dropping almost immediately to the coastline. The ocean winds blow inland constantly, forcing the seagrapes (les raisiniers, or coccoloba uvifera) to press itself against the hills.


Above, hiking along the windswept coastline, covered with seagrapes.

Before the trail winds away from the coastline and into dense vegetation, you come across an old battery dating from the 18th century.

In the forest, you will come across an old windmill, a vestige of the sugar plantation that used to exist here. The windmill sits upright only because a figuier maudit, the cursed fig tree, that has wrapped its roots around and inside it. It is the only standing windmill in Basse Terre. If you explore a bit, you will also find the other buildings associated with this former plantation.

Above, the trail turns from the coastline and back into dense vegetation.


Above, the old windmill, strangled by the roots of the figuier maudit, or wild banyan tree (ficus citrifolia).

The trail breaks out of the forest, towards the coast again, with sugar cane on the right and the Atlantic Ocean to the left.


Above, the trail is bordered to the right by sugar cane.

In a clearing, next to a tree and besides a small spring, you'll find two ancient petroglyphs, carved by the Amerindians. Pay attention; It is easy to miss. One petroglyph is found looking over the spring and is known as the ‘Sorcerer’. His ‘wife’ faces him on a lower rock, half submerged in a stream. It is thought that she depicts a water birth.

The trail continues past les Galets beach. This is a black sand beach facing Atlantic waters that carry a strong current and large-ish waves.


Above, les Galets beach.

The trail crosses the Coulisse River. During the wet season, or hivernage, the water gushes down as a small waterfall into a small pool. A rope has been provided to scale the face of the rock. After crossing the river, continue climbing until you reach the road. This is the end of the trail. If you follow the road to your left until you reach the picnic area. From the picnic area, there is a path that descends to Anse Duquery, a tiny cove with a tiny black sand beach.


Sentier de la Grande Pointe
One way trail passing through varied landscape with historical significance. Possibility of bathing in fresh water pool (during hivernage) and at two different black sand beaches. Picnic tables available at the end of the trail.
Location: Basse Terre, near Trois-Rivières. Take the N1 from Trois-Rivières heading to Pointe-à-Pitre for about 3.5 km (~1.5 miles), route de la Grande Pointe will be on your right.
Duration: 3 hours
Difficulty: medium. There is a steep, but easily manageable, descent at the beginning of the trail. Hikers must cross the river over the rocks.
Parking: yes, at either ends of the trail.

Developing Country Furniture

The couch from 2015, as seen in Back to the Future Part II.



















Prop bed used in internet porn.

The Life and the Dream

Contrary to the impression that my blog may have given these past weeks, my life is not a continuous procession of cake-filled holidays. Adapting to my new life is a daily struggle, and on far more days than M. would like, those struggles end in tears.

This is not my first time living outside of New York. I moved away for my undergraduate studies, for work in France, and for graduate studies. But it was different then. I left without saying goodbye. I moved away knowing I would come back in 4 months, in 6 months, in a year. And, while I made a life for myself while away, it was not my life. My life was waiting for me, back home, in New York. I considered those moments away to be tangential to my real life, side stories to the main plot. In the meantime, New York - or, at least the parts that mattered to me - lived in suspension. The life of my friends and my family plodded along, but slowly, and superficially without change. Of course, I missed birthdays, barbecues, peruvian dinners, but these were minor, and as long as they were kept to a minimum I could always "catch up."

I have always known Guadeloupe would be different. I told my friends and family that it would be years before I could move back. Three years, 5 years. But, I knew, even then, that we would be here much longer. Time builds familiarity. Familiarity brings habit. Habit breeds permanence. I've started to believe that I will live here for the rest of my life.

So when I cry, I cry for the accumulation of family parties, cozy dinners, at-home movies that form a life, an entire life that I will not be able to catch up to.

There is more than that, though. Accepting a life here means more than giving up a life in New York. It means giving up a dream. A dream that combined everything that I have always known and everything that I assumed would be.

It was in that spirit that I read Thomas Beller's article in the NYTimes published last Friday. He writes about his studio apartment in the West Village where he has lived for 13 years, and his impending move. He has fond memories of that apartment, but writes: "To what extent does living with the past impede living in the present? Or living for the future?" I teared up when I read those lines. I hadn't asked myself those questions, but felt that I had been living the hard truth of the answer for several months.

At the end of the month, I am going back to New York to finalize paperwork. I think I will take this opportunity to formally say goodbye to New York, in the hopes that in doing so I can let go and embrace my new life in Guadeloupe. And the dream? M. and I will share new dreams for our new life together. But, I will keep the dream of New York, deep in a crevice of my heart, in the hopes that someday it might come true.

Galette des Rois: La Fève

This morning I awoke to find more than half of what had remained of the galette gone. Seeing that M. has gone about it with a furious efficiency exceeding my expectations, it was with some surprise that I found the fève sitting in the sink with the mornings dishes. It was a surprise also because its unfamiliar form had initially led me to believe some horrendously large bug, or some small frog had died in my kitchen sink. Recovering from my irrational and disproportionate fright, I could see that the fève is a charming little donkey.

Galette des Rois

Above, la galette des rois, complete with paper crown.

This past Sunday was Epiphany Sunday. There is some religious connotation, but what is far more interesting is cake that is associated with it: la galette des rois (or king's cake), a puff pastry cake filled with frangipane.

La galette des rois forms one of my first experiences of France. I had arrived in France just after new year's for my first stay. My 'host mother' made her own galette - from scratch - with almond powder that she bought from the bakery and which she brought home in a small brown paper bag. Her 'secret' was that she added a few drops of fleur d'oranger (orange blossom water) to the frangipane.

The galette is meant to be a festive cake. Aside from its tastiness, the galette is a game. The baker inserts a broad bean (called a fève) into the frangipane before baking. When the galette is served, whoever receives the part with the broad bean then becomes King for a day. S/he gets to wear the crown ... and gets to treat everybody to the next galette. To be sure there is no cheating, the youngest person in the room gets underneath the table and shouts out who should receive the part that's just been cut. A nice history of the galette in France can be found here. Over the years, the broad bean has been replaced with porcelain and then, plastic, figurines. These figurines are still called fèves, and vary from boulangerie to boulangerie.

Our local boulangerie sells the traditional frangipane galette des rois, but also sells galette with local flavors: coconut, guava, banana (if I remember correctly), and chocolate. I really love the traditional galette, but wanted to take advantage and try a local flavor. I picked guava. Miracle of miracles, the puff pastry was still somewhat crispy, despite a full day of torrential rain.

Above, a slice of guava galette des rois.

The filling is actually composed of a thin layer of frangipane, topped with a thicker layer of guava. Unfortunately, the guava is a bit too sweet for me.

There isn't much excitement around who will get the fève. Either I will get it, or M. will get it. Either way, M. will buy the next galette des rois. The only question remaining is what sort of fève it will be. Stay tuned...

Mail Delivery

Mail has taken weeks - months, even - to arrive from the United States. Whereas mail from France métropole takes less than one week to arrive. Clearly, distance is not the issue.
I suspected that perhaps American postal workers didn't know where Guadeloupe was located. I cannot blame them; Guadeloupe did not exist to me before I studied France. I thought perhaps postal workers took Guadeloupe to be a Spanish name (gwa-da-loo-pay). It seems fairly similar to Guadalajara, those G-U-A-Ds. So I thought maybe mail was being redirected through South America. Venezuela, for example. That seemed logical. That may be the case, but now I know that at least one letter has taken a detour to Africa. It makes me wonder where in the world are the remaining letters and packages...

The Love Continues

The weekend edition of France Antilles had a two-page spread featuring high-profile politicians, administrators, and others, who had been asked to share their thoughts about the past year, and their hopes for Guadeloupe for 2009. Every single person mentioned the election of Barack Obama to the presidency. That his victory in the presidential elections marked their impressions of 2008 is not surprising. What is surprising is the importance that they all ascribed to his election to Guadeloupe.

Victorin Lurel
President of the Regional Council
"The election of Barack Obama is an event in the history of the world. Obama is in the process of taking down a very old curse. Its an event with historic impact. That the strongest power in the world is led by an African descendant, it's exceptional..." (1)

Jeanny Marc
Deputy and Mayor of Deshaies
"The happy event occurred on the world scale with the election of Barack Obama: the first Black president of the United States, the most powerful country in the world. This election carries strong a symbol: solidarity, fraternity, engagement. It foreshadows the world as a panetary village. As a supporter of world peace, this election gave rise in me much hope. (2)

Jacques Gillot
Senator and President of the General Council
"Hope, all the same, with the emergence of unifying symbols showing that work, courage, and competence allow you to overcome all obstacles, from the historic victory of Barack Obama..." (3)

Eric Jalton
Deputy and Mayor of Abymes
"The election of Barack Obama is also a great victory for humanity. I admit that I would not have bet on a mixed-race president in the United States in 2008. Its a huge event and therefore we should not lose hope in the ability of one another to transcend obstacles, divides, racial prejudices. Its a strong sign for all racial, social, cultural, religious minorities. We can, from now on, reach very high level positions." (4)

Jalton's comments really exemplify the optimism that Guadeloupeans have about the future of French politics. As I wrote in my previous post about Barack Obama in Guadeloupe, most - if not all - French people would readily admit that the election of a minority to the highest office of power in France is an impossibility. But, as I also noted, attitudes between Guadeloupeans and French in the métropole, differ. Whereas in Guadeloupe, Obama's victory brought hope, in France métropole, the French seemed to be reminded far more of the challenges still to be overcome.

In 2007, at the beginning of the presidential primaries, Francois Durpaire, a researcher at the Center for Research of North American History (Centre de recherches d'histoire nord-américaine), published a book about Barack Obama, titled l'Amérique de Barack Obama (5). Durpaire entitles his conclusion as 'Obama, symbol for visible minorities in France' writing, "This enthousiasm translates as much into a infatuation for Obama the candidate, as the frustration of a section of the French population who do not recognize themselves in its political system" (6). Durpaire interviews Rama Yade, the Secretary of State for Human Rights, to reflect on Obama's election (7). She is far less hopeful than Guadeloupeans:

"Barack Obama is for me the American dream, this American dream that regularly appears from no where and makes what America what it is...Its beautiful. But its also sad because I cannot help but think of France. Many people say that my nomination to the government as Secretary of State is historic. A such a slow pace, how much time will it take for France to have a Black person at the doors of the presidency?"(8)

Perhaps it is because in Guadeloupe, the people live in close proximity to its history of slavery. One can only be hopeful, ever optimistic, with such a past.


(1) "L'élection de Barack Obama est aussi une grande victoire pour l'humanité. J'avoue que je n'aurais jamais parié, en 2008, sur un président métis aux États-Unis. C'est un grand événement et donc on ne doit pas désespérer de la capacité des uns et des autres à transcender des obstacles, clivages, préjugés raciaux. C'est un signal fort pour toutes les minorités raciales, sociales, culturelles, religieuses. On peut désormais accéder à des postes très élèvés."

(2) "L'événement heureux s'est déroulé sur le plan mondial avec l'élection de Barack Obama : le premier président noir des États-Unis, le pays le plus puissant du monde. Cette élection est porteuse de symbole très forts : la solidarité, la fraternité, l'engagement. Elle préfigure le monde comme un village planétaire. En tant que militante de la paix dans le monde, cette élection a fait naître chez moi beaucoup d'espoir."

(3) "Espérance, tout de même, avec l'émergence de symboles fédérateurs démontrant que le travail, le courage, et la compétence permettent de surmonter tous les obstacles, au travers de la victoire historique de Barack Obama ..."

(4) "L'élection de Barack Obama est un événement dans l'histoire du monde. Obama est en train de faire tomber une très vielle malédiction. C'est un événement de portée historique. Que la première puissance du monde soit dirigée par un desendent d'Africain, c'est exceptionnel..."

(5)
Durpaire, François and Olivier Richomme. L'Amérique de Barack Obama. Paris: Demopolis, 2007.
ISBN 978-2-35457-040-8


(6) "Cet enthousiasme traduit autant l'engouement que suscite le candidat Obama que la frustration d'une partie de la population française qui ne se reconnaît pas dans son système politique." 184

(7) Rade, a French citizen of Senegalese origins, is one of the few minorities who holds a position in the French government. She was appointed by Nicolas Sarkozy.

(8) "Barack Obama est pour moi un rêve américain, ce rêve américain qui régulièrement surgit de nulle part et fait que l'Amérique est ce qu'elle est...C'est beau. Mais c'est triste aussi car je ne peux m'empêcher de penser à la France. Beaucoup disent que ma nomination au Gouvernement comme secrétaire d'État est historique. À ce rhythme si lent, combien de temps faudra-t-il pour que la France ait un Noir aux portes d'Élysée ?"182

Meeting a Wave

Ironically, I have no particular fondness for the beach nor the ocean.

I cannot say what effect living on an island has had on me; I am not sure myself. Though it is still with some awe that I often see the blue of the ocean or sea, peeking between tree tops, or spreading out before me as the car descends a steep slope.

Now that I find myself at the beach so often I have had a chance to get to know the ocean and the sea. I see how it changes from hour to hour, day to day, season to season.

The beach closest to our house is a lovely little black sand beach. The water it meets is the Atlantic ocean, and so waves are constant. Today, the waves were large - the largest I've seen - and unfurled impressively before crashing against the beach with a loud roar.

I may have been a strong swimmer once. During my last two years of high school, I swam in the school pool for several hours once a week. But that was years ago, and there is nothing comparable between swimming in a pool and swimming in open water, except that one gets wet. I am aware of this as I splash my way into the water, turning my back to the waves each time they come.

The cold water and the fear is exhilarating. The thought of drowning always comes to me every time I swim in the ocean. We swim quickly beyond the break of the waves, and bob up and down as the wave rolls past us. I tire quickly from treading water, and despite my desire to stay, fear moves me to swim back.

M. tells me to be careful but I swim towards the beach without thinking about the waves. I duck under two, but miss the third, which breaks on top of me, forcing me down against the sand. I see a flash of light blue before the rush of white. The wave retreats, carrying with it the mass of the ocean. I have not moved quickly enough, and so a wave breaks again on top of me.

I stagger back to the shore, my tongue salty from the two mouthfuls of water I swallowed. I turn around, and watch the waves, sobered by the chastisement. The waves continue to swell, break, and fall. The ocean throws itself against an imaginary wall, and for a split second, an aquarium 2 meters deep, displays its contents. With awe and horror, I see nearly the entire body of M. submerged in this wall of water, his legs and arms moving about. This insignificant wave could easily swallow humans whole. The water turns from a light blue at the top to a deep and ominous black at the very bottom. The wave breaks.

From the beach, I watch as M., a small white blob in a mass of blue, slowly makes his way towards me. He returns, unscathed, the ocean playfully nudging him forward from time to time. How has he left the water so calmly, I ask. You ignore the waves, he replies. They have a rhythm; smaller calmer waves follow the sequence of large crashing waves. You must know when to swim back. Clearly, I had not been paying attention.

The waves are difficult to ignore, and I watch them closely. Later, when I close my eyes while washing off, I can still see the waves swell, break, and fall.

PAUL Christmas Logs, part 2

We finally purchased our PAUL Christmas log - a little late for Christmas, but just in time for gaining a few extra kilos. Heres to starting the new year off right!

We chose La Mokatine - almond spongecake soaked in coffee punch, covered with coffee buttercream, the top sprinkled with little bits of nougat. It was more expensive than I thought: €29 for a log serving 6. The log we bought at the local boulangerie, which was about the same size as the PAUL log, was only €16. Though, I will note that the spongecake for the local boulangerie log was a bit dry.

I'm afraid the picture doesn't do it justice. I am not a photographer, and I take my pictures with a point-and-shoot Canon PowerShot. But, I assure you, it was quite tasty!

La Guadeloupe d'en-France

In addition to reading the literature from the French West Indies, I've started to read some non-fiction.

Recently, I finished reading La Guadeloupe d'en-France by Robert Valérius (1). Its a book I picked up at the bookstore in Basseterre, after having asked the bookseller to recommend me something about life and culture in Guadeloupe. The book is actually far more limited in scope, analyzing specifically Guadeloupe's relationship with France, and only from mid-1940's to present. At 153 pages, there simply isn't enough pages for Valérius to discuss or analyze thoroughly; still, for someone who knows nothing about the relationship between Guadeloupe and France, this is probably all I can handle right now.

Valérius describes what is essentially a torrid love-affair between Guadeloupe and France. His book begins with the law of 1946, which transforms Guadeloupe the colony into Guadeloupe the département, making it a 'state' of France. Guadeloupeans looked upon the change in statute with hope and pride. There was hope that the new relationship with France would vastly improve living standards through economic and social intervention. And there was pride to fully assimilate as French and to become French citizens.

Problems arose when the law of 1946 does not meet the expectations of Guadeloupeans. Guadeloupeans, had, perhaps, set themselves up for disappointment. Valérius writes, "Guadeloupeans were forced to recognize that the law of 1946 had not, with a wave of the magic wand, transformed a underdeveloped country into a developed country" (2) But, part of that disappointment stemmed from the uneven application of the law. Ten years after departmentalization, considerable differences persisted between the rights of and the services due a French métropole citizen and a Guadeloupean. Additionally, neither the economic aid, nor the increase in demand for Guadeloupean exports was ever realized. Finally, Guadeloupeans lost considerable control over their own affairs in becoming a département by ceding power to the Prefecture.

This leads to the popular support amongst Guadeloupeans for a review of the law of 1946. In turn, these discussions eventually demand justification for Guadeloupe's very relationship with France. Several groups and movements arise, each supporting similar and/or opposing goals. Certain groups wanted simply the full and complete application of the law of 1946. Others wanted an altogether different statute for Guadeloupe. Still others wanted independence.

Valérius then launches into an analysis of why the second two groups fail to transform Guadeloupe into a sub-entity other than département, or as a nation. Indeed, to read his analysis is to understand that these movements were doomed to failure. I won't repeat all his arguments here, but they are largely related to the identity of Guadeloupe, and that that identity - past, present, and future - rejects an existence untethered to France.

I would make a few critiques of the book: The book could probably be improved by more rigorous editing. The organization and chaptering of the book are not readily apparent, and at times the same ideas seem to make appearances - however brief - whenever they please. Valérius also sprinkles his text liberally with abbreviations of various political groups; most go undiscussed, so seems like the sort of filler students use to pad word count. Valérius also seems to be writing specifically for a Guadeloupean audience. (This may be intentional.) At times, the events of such-and-such date, nor the consequences of such-and-such event are not made explicit. This can leave the reader a bit bewildered.

Nevertheless, the topic is fascinating. To know the history behind the relationship between Guadeloupe and France is to understand local society, culture and politics at a much deeper level.

For example, chlordecone was a pesticide heavily used on banana plantations in the French Antilles. The scandal is that, despite being banned for use in the US in 1976, the chemical was not banned in France until 1990. In addition, banana growers here requested and received a derogation and were allowed to continue using the substance for three more years. Chlordecone is carcinogenic and believed to be the cause of high cancer and infertility rate in Guadeloupe. Of course, this was about money. Without chlordecone, banana growers would have faced huge increases in production costs. Bananas produced here were already facing stiff competition from bananas produced in Africa, where labor costs were far lower. Did France turn a blind eye to the health of its overseas citizens simply for money? The answer is not so simple. France was faced with an increasingly popular independence movement (complete with extremist and violent groups) which drew its power from general dissatisfaction with decreasing living standards. Had France followed the United States in banning chlordecone, the economy of Guadeloupe - which was at the time almost completely dependent on banana production - would have suffered a serious blow. This may have tipped the scale and given the independence movement what it needed to lead a successful campaign.

Obviously, the story ends with Guadeloupe and France together, living happily ever after. Or not. Valérius ends with what is essentially a list of social and political challenges that face Guadeloupe. Most seem entirely unrelated to France. It would seem then, that Valérius is making the argument that perhaps France was, and also is, not the problem.

Believe it or not, the book made great beach reading. I am hoping to find similar books.

(1)
Valérius, Robert. La Guadeloupe d'en-France. Pointe-à-Pitre: Éditions Jasor, 2005.
ISBN 2-912594-51-0



(2) "Les Guadeloupéens étaient forcés de reconnaître que la loi de 1946 n'avait pas transformé, d'un coup de baguette magique, un pay sous-développé en pays développé" p29