Above, "Habitation route de Balata" ("House on Balata road")
A local free publication, Maisons Creoles, published an article in its latest issue on a Martinican watercolorist, Manuel. I was struck by the prettiness of his watercolors, the meticulous brush strokes. The Antilles, with its picturesque houses, luxurious nature, the abundance of colors, all seem to make the the Antilles the perfect subject for painting.
Above, "Mémoire et soleil" ("Memory and sun")
Above, "Yoles en course devant les pitons du Carbet" ("Racing skiffs past the peaks of the Carbet")
I often find watercolors overly sweet, as if each brushstroke were lace-trimmed and the painting backed with a doily. This isn't very different from the paintings of Manuel. Even shacks and lean-to's made from corrugated sheet metal look downright cozy. It is difficult, however, to entirely ignore the sentimentality, and there is something pleasing to see one's (new) home depicted as a charming idyll.
Above, "Femme entrant dans la case" ("Woman entering the shack")
Above, one-quarter of the glorious yogurt isle in Carrefour.
Dairy products - outside of 1-gallon milk jugs, pre-sliced American cheese and ice cream - being completely absent from my Chinese mother's kitchen, yogurt probably made a very late appearance in my life. I don't really even remember eating yogurt, much less enjoying it, before living in France. But I do remember suddenly liking yogurt very much the semester I studied abroad - so much so that I wrote home about it on several occasions. Why the change? Possibly because there is a significant difference between when Americans eat yogurt and when the French eat yogurt; Americans eat yogurt as a breakfast food, or as a snack whereas traditionally, the French eat yogurt as a dessert. There is something particularly satisfying in a cool, sweet, light dessert after a meal. But mostly because there was a significant difference in taste. I remember eating tiny tubs of unctuous stracciatella from Danone, fruit tarts in yogurt form from la Latière... I even enjoyed the creamy prune yogurt!
One of the pleasures, then, of living in France is the yogurt. Besides the typical strawberry-, peach- and cherry-flavored yogurt, there are more local flavors available in the supermarket aisles here.
Above, Danone's Velouté Fruix, Yoplaît's Caresse and Littée's Mixé.
Danone's Velouté Fruix has Guava, Coconut, Mango, and Passion Fruit/Peach. Yoplaît's Caresse has Guava, Piña Colada, Litchi, and Passion Fruit/Peach. Littée's Mixé has pineapple, mango, guava and vanilla. Veoluté Fruix and Caresse are fairly similar - quite tasty - and when we are at the store, we choose whichever one happens to be on sale at the moment. Littée, whose neon-colored labelling might serve as indication, is a bit too sweet.
Occasionally, when there is some pineapple in the house, I will cut up some pieces and add them to some coconut yogurt, with a splash of rum. A bit rich? ... not at all.
This weekend, M. and I had a chance to hear a local group, Soft, play live at a festival celebrating native Caribbean culture and history. Soft released their first album, Kadans a péyi-la, in 2005, selling more than 11,000 copies in four months. Vocals are led by Fred Deshayes, who is also lead guitar. Base is played by Joël Larochelle, saxophone by Phillipe Sadikalay, and percussion by Didier Juste.
I'm not sure how to categorize Soft's music but I believe smooth jazz, defined as a sub-genre of jazz that is "influenced stylistically by R&B, funk and pop," seems close. But, 'smooth jazz' makes me think of curly-maned Kenny G. There are surely similarities: Kenny G plays the soprano saxophone, and so does Sadikalay, giving the music that distinctive elevator quality. But I think it would be more accurate to describe it as smooth Guadeloupean jazz, a sub-genre of jazz stylistically influenced by zouk, gwo ka, konpa, even some biguine - all music from Guadeloupe.
Unlike Kenny G, it could be said that Soft has an agenda. Their lyrics, written mainly in creole, focus on social issues of Guadeloupe. The top hit from that first album, Krim cont la Gwadloup (Crime contre la Guadeloupe, Crimes against Guadeloupe), for example, criticizes local politicians for their contributions to the various social and economic ills of the island.
Below, the single Kadans a péyi-la and the lyrics. Unfortunately, I don't know any créole beyond a few words and simple phrases, so I cannot give you a translation. If I work it out, though, I'll post it here, too.
Kadans a peyi la
Yo enmé nati-la Yo pa enmé pèp-la An vérité yo pa/pa’a santi kadans a péyi-la
Yo pa vlé Sentélwa Yo pa vlé tann Mawsèl Lolya (Marcel Lollia An vérité yo pa enmé lokans a péyi-la
Mé soufriyè pa ka dòmi Kon vou kon mwen i ka bouyi Nenpòt ki jou sa ké pété
Sé li ka chayé mwen Sé sa ka brilé mwen Sé li k’ay menné nou pli wo, pli wo
Refrain/rèfren Padon manman padon papa Nou pa vlé péyi-la konsa Si dlo vini an zyé an nou Féblès pa k’ay pran kò an nou woy E pa k’ay ni mélankoli E nenpòt ki filozofi Lèw vwè péyi an nou ké lévé
Tam pi tam tam pi tam tanbou ké woulé
An péyi-la pa ni pon rèv Ji lèspérans nou mèt an grèv Ni twòp moun ki ka ralanti Kadans a péyi-la Sé tèt vid, sé nwa séré Chanté pawòl malélivé E sé nou menm ka mènasé mizik a péyi-la
Mé soufriyè pa ka dòmi Kon vou kon mwen i ka bouyi Nenpòt ki jou sa ké pété Soufwans a péyi-la
(refrain)
Two years after their stunning success, Soft (minus Juste) released Partout étranger. The group then released a 'best of' album (though it seemed hardly necessary, given they've only released two albums previous). The song Lanmou o piyaj featured on their second album, but an accompanying music video - their first - was released this past May:
For Toussaint, M. and I went for a 5-day trip to St. Barthélemy, or variously known as St. Barth (in France), St. Bart (in the U.S.). St. Barth is located approximately 125 miles northwest of Guadeloupe in the Eastern Caribbean. With only 21 square kilometers of dry hilly terrain and no natural water source, it is affectionately called The Rock by some residents.
Above, the port of Gustavia.
First discovered by Christopher Columbus in 1493, St. Barth was settled successfully by the French only in1648. These first settlers were predominantly fishermen from Normandie and Bretagne. The island prospered as a port for French buccaneers, who eventually settled and became merchants, tradesmen, farmers. In 1784, the island was sold to the Swedish King Gustav III in exchange for trading rights in Göteborg. The following year St. Barth is made into a free port and shortly after, the largest town is named in honor of the king. A short period of prosperity began as regular conflict between neighboring possessions of French, English, and Dutch rule made St.Barth an important supply point. Waning conflict in the Caribbean and the introduction of motorized ships made St.Barth redundant. In 1878, having become a drain on the public finances of Sweden, St. Barth was offered up to France for repurchase. St. Barth remained isolated and poor until the development of tourism in the mid-twentieth century.
Unlike Guadeloupe, this tiny island of France is well known by Americans. Indeed, St.Barth has been a longtime winter playground for the American rich. Having experienced rapid decline in the late 1800's to early 1900s, and more or less forgotten by the national French government, St.Barth turned to tourism for economic growth. However, St. Barth staked out a destiny different from its neighbors. Having few resources to exploit and waste, St. Barth made a conscious decision to pursue the wealthy tourist.
Wealthy we are not. But, the plane ticket is fairly inexpensive from Guadeloupe, and we found a very reasonable price for hotel and car rental combination. It would not have been my first choice for a vacation destination, and probably not M.'s either. But, we had other reasons for going, which I may write about in some later post.
Above, a plane descends to land at the airport in St. Barth (1).
The plane ride from Guadeloupe is short: a little less than 1 hour. The landing in St. Barth is world-famous. One end of the runway begins at the bottom of a steep hill. The other end stops on a narrow slice of St. Jean beach. With only 2,100 ft of runway in between, planes that land here must be made for short fields, such as the de Havilland Twin Otter (seating 20), the Cessna 208 Caravan, or the Britten-Norman Islander (both seating 9). Most planes land heading east, so after clearing the hill, the pilot must quickly bring the plane down and to a stop before reaching the beach (2). A pilot for St. Barth Commuter explained that the wind conditions determine the direction that pilots must take for the runway, as the wind must always be moving against the aircraft (3).
St. Barth is a dry, dry country. With the sun reverberating on hard, dirt-covered hills, the heat is clearly hostile. Plant life is reduced to small prickly shrubs, or grotesquely large thorned bushes. How different from the lush prolificacy of Basse Terre, or even the gently rolling fields of Grand Terre! It is St. Barth's saving grace that the sea and the ocean should turn so mesmerizingly blue on its shores.
We visited five of the island's twenty-two beaches. St Jean was a milky turquoise blue. The inhabitually strong waves churning the fine white sand made the water sparkle, even in its depths. Large modern houses imposed on the narrow stretch of sand at Flamands. Gouverneur was quiet save for the whistle-like calls of a pair of red-billed tropicbirds, which were diving and gliding in front of the cliff face. The tinkling of shells being turned over in the sand by the waves on Shell Beach was magic. My favorite was Salines, rugged and empty, a beach for the imagination. Above, the old lighthouse over looking the port of Gustavia.
Thanksgiving officially begins the season in St. Barth, so the island was still relatively quiet. Inventory sat in full boxes outside shop doors. Waiters, unfamiliar and extremely pale, had only arrived from continental France the previous weeks.
Driving around on the small winding roads, one of the first things that I noticed were the walls and prominent gates that mark the property of hotels and private villas dotting the island. The walls were often beautiful mortared or veneered stone walls, the gates closed. Its an odd thing to notice, perhaps, when there are magnificent sea views, quaint shop streets, and rugged countryside to admire. But such accessories of wealth and demand for privacy are not common in Guadeloupe. Instead, a low concrete wall might separate the property from the street, and if there is a gate, it is often left wide open. Walls are built from cinder blocks, often left unpainted, occasionally complimented by strips of corrugated metal, propped up with some sticks, at the very ends. More often than not, there is simply no fence at all.
I picked up this tourist booklet (3) in a restaurant or shop. I was struck by the quality in design and photography. Its sophisticated, sleek. The photographs provoke a real desire to complete the sensations which the eye has begun: touch, to smell, to taste...
(Click on the images to enlarge.)
Unfolding the pages of the booklet, I found contrast to Guadeloupe. Indeed, it seems to me that St. Barth is everything that Guadeloupe is not, and vice versa. Where St. Barth is friendly and inviting, Guadeloupe is warm and generous. St. Barth sparkles at night, Guadeloupe wakes at twilight. St. Barth moves with ever increasing rapidity towards the future, Guadeloupe keeps turning back round to come forward again.
(1) Article and photograph by Roy Furchgott for The Washington Post (here) (2) "...speed management is crucial for a successful landing at St. Barts, because slower than required speeds will have you hit the hillside short of the runway, while excess speeds will cause you to overshoot the runway and splash into the crystal clear water of the lagoon" (Unusual and Dangerous Approaches, Part II). (3) A pilot recently failed to put down the plane quickly enough, overshooting the runway to be stopped by the beach.
Above, "Habitation route de Balata" ("House on Balata road")
Above, "Mémoire et soleil" ("Memory and sun")
Above, "Yoles en course devant les pitons du Carbet" ("Racing skiffs past the peaks of the Carbet")
Above, "Femme entrant dans la case" ("Woman entering the shack")
