Bûche de la St. Sylvestre

Stopping by to pick up a baguette, I was dazzled by the array of new year's eve logs on display at the boulangerie. Ah, yes, here, the logs are not just for Christmas, but the entire holiday season up until new years. And, why not, when they're so tasty?


Above, a chocolate log with a chocolate ganache layer, filled with apricot / passion fruit mousse, covered with dark chocolate icing.

What a tasty way to bid farewell to 2008 and to welcome 2009!

La Rue Cases Nègres

I decided a while back that I ought to read more about Guadeloupe and, in general, the Caribbean. I’ve read the history and culture bits found in the various French tourist guidebooks we have at the house. These passages are obviously very short and brief, but often offer a surprisingly insightful and honest interpretation of life here. But, these books can only offer so much. Much more useful and engaging is literature. I ambitiously began with La Case à Chine, by Raphaël Confiant, a Martinican with some Chinese ancestry. Therein lay the interest for me. But, I quickly discovered that Confiant writes with a French that requires intensive reading, or at least not the kind I could manage sitting on my terrace, or before going to bed. So, I abandoned Case à Chine, regrettably.

M. recommended something with much more classical style of narration: La Rue Cases Nègres by Joseph Zobel (1). The book is semi-autobiographical, and recounts the early life of a young boy named Joseph Hassam in Martinique. José - as he is called - lives with his grandmother, Ma’Tine, on a sugar cane plantation in the early 1900’s, during a time when Blacks were free, but kept extremely poor working on the sugar cane plantations of Whites (called békés). The title of the book - black shack alley - comes from the row of ‘houses’ where all the black laborers live. The early part of the book is mostly a description of José’s world, as well as a narration of his adventures, as seen from the point of view of a child.

In this following passage, José has discovered he can fish for little shrimps in a nearby creek while Ma’Tine works in the fields:

It was marvelous. The breathless attention which I watched my line, the acute emotion that started in my heart by the smallest movement of the buoy ... Even more wonderful, the world of the shrimps as I imagined: hills, paths and trails, fields, shacks. All of it in fresh water. Here lived translucent shrimps, the papa-shrimps, the mamas, the children, who spoke in the language of water. When I got a large shrimp, it was maybe a papa-shrimp, or a mama-shrimp returning from work. And I thought about the grief of the children, who cried inconsolably, and whose tears maybe swelled the river. When it was a little shrimp, I imagined the desolation of the its parents ... and I regretted even more those that got away, whom I feared would advise the others to stay away from the appetizing earth worm hiding my suspended hook (2).

But underneath lies the history of the miserable existence of Blacks during this time period. Ma’Tine struggles to send José to school, which she sees as the only escape from the sugar cane fields for both her grandson, and for Blacks in general. Below, José has just asked Ma’Tine why he does not go to work in the fields like the other children of Rue Cases Nègres:

Miserable boy! cried my grandmother; you would have me put you into the small bands, you too! ... Well! I should, send you to gather para (3), or spread guano, for good, like the others have done! That's what you need to know the misery and to teach you how to behave...Hum! How can it end if fathers stick their sons there in it, in the same misery (4).

The second half of the story tells of José's struggles in school, and his new life in Fort-de-France.

Its a wonderful story, and the characters are incredibly memorable. José is precocious and the reader is quickly charmed by his intelligence and sincerity. Ma' Tine is an impressive force and the reader, like José, treats her with equal parts affection and fear.

The book was adapted to film in 1983 by Euzhan Palcy. The film follows the overall plot of the book, but diverges in the details. Asked during an interview, whether or not he liked the film, Zobel answered, “I’m not sorry about the adaptation that Miss Palcy made, it’s another thing than my book, it doesn’t matter how the two were received by the public...” (5). I believe the film captures the essence of Zobel’s book. The principal actors, Garry Cadenat as José, and Darling Légitimus as Ma’ Tine are marvelous.

I was not able to find a clip of the film online, except the one below, which is not actually a clip, but a video essay by an American- or Canadian-born Taiwanese. He uses the clip to explore his own relationship with his grandparents. The clip is rather interesting on its own. The clip shows M. Médouze, an elderly laborer whom José has befriended, and who is his mentor.



(1)
Zobel, Joseph. La Rue Cases-Nègres. Paris: Présence Africaine, 1974.




(2) “C'était merveilleux. L'attention haletante avec laquelle je surveillais la ligne, l'émotion aiguë lancée au coeur par le plus insensible mouvement du flotteur...Plus merveilleux encore, le monde des crevettes tel que j'imaginais: des mornes, des sentiers et des traces, des champs, des cases. Le tout en eau claire. Là vivaient les crevettes translucides, les papas-crevettes, les mamans, les enfants, qui parlaient en langage d'eau. Quand j'en avais pris une grosse, c'était peut-être un papa, ou une maman qui revenait du travail. Et je songeais au chagrin de leurs enfants qui pleureraient inconsolablement, et dont les larmes feraient peut-être grossir la rivière. Quand c'était une petite, je me représentais la désolation de ses parents ... et je regrettais d'autant plus celles que je manquais, que je redoutais qu'elles n'aillent conseiller aux autres de se méfier de mon hameçon suspendu sous l'apparence d'un appétissant ver de terre.”- p84 Éditions Présence Africaine, 1974.

(3) I am not sure what para is, and so cannot translate it. It is maybe creole. If I find out, I will edit this.

(4) "Petit misérable! s'écria ma grand-mère; tu voudrais que je te fiche dans les petites-bandes, toi aussi! ... Eh bé! j'aurais dû, pour de bon, t'envoyer ramasser du para, ou mettre du guano, comme ont fait les autres! C'est ce quíl faudrait pour connaitre la misère et apprendre à te comporter...Hein! comment cela pourrait-il finir si les pères y foutent leurs fils là-dedans, dans la même malheur?" - p79 Editions Présence Africaine, 1974.

(5) "Je ne regrette pas l'adaptation qu'en a fait mademoiselle Palcy, c'est autre chose que mon livre, peu m'importe la manière dont les deux ont été reçus par le public..." Interview with Simone DUMAS

Plage de Malendure

One of the beaches where M. and I go with some frequency is the the beach of Malendure, in the village of Bouillante. Its a lovely little black sand beach with calm waters. M. has done most of his dives here, in the waters around les îlets Pigeon, within eyesight of the beach. Les îlets Pigeon - bits of land just peeking above the water - are incredibly accessible and supports abundant sea life.

Like all black sand beaches, the sand absorbs and retains the heat from the sun with incredible efficiency. I like to lay my blanket down underneath the coco trees for a bit of shade. The only problem is that many of the coco trees are still quite young, and so, there can be a bit of competition for a spot, especially on Sundays, and especially during high season. But, we've always managed to find a good shady spot.

My favorite part about coming to Malendure, though, is lunch. We always have a bokit. I was a bit lost as to how to describe a bokit. Michelin guide describes it as "a sort of large donut, stuffed with vegetables, cod, or anything you want, like a sub" (1). But, I find that definition incredibly vague, not to mention unappetizing (a fish-stuffed donut, anyone?). I think the Michelin definition reflects the lack of imagination of the French when it comes to sandwiches; anything that isn't made with a baguette is not quite a sandwich.

Above, my bokit, most likely made with white flour, lard, eggs, butter, and stuffed with shredded rotisserie chicken, lettuce, sliced tomatoes, hot sauce (hot sauce optional).

Anyway, I finally realized that a bokit is quite similar to naan, but instead of being baked, it is deep fried. The similarities between the two are probably no coincidence, as much of the food here has been influenced by Indians who immigrated here at the end of the 19th century.


Above, Chez Hubert.

We buy our bokits from the yellow sandwich truck, 'Chez Hubert,' reviewed in the 2007 edition of Petit Futé. I've never actually seen Hubert, its maybe his wife or sister who runs a one-woman sandwich show. The wait can be long, but so very worth it.

*UPDATE* (April 8, 2009) Hubert no longer operates from the yellow truck, and has constructed a free standing restaurant. There is still seating at the 'counter' but this is now supplemented by a few tables. The bokits are still just as good, and the wait just as long.


(1) bokit: sorte de gros beignet fourré de légumes, de morue ou de tout ce qu'on veut à la manière des pans-bagnats



Plage de Malendure
Black sand beach, lined with coco trees, located in a small bay. The water is calm, and waves are relatively small. The beach is very popular with tourists as a number of diving clubs and a few glass bottom boats depart from Malendure for the îlets Pigeon.
Location: Pigeon/Bouillante (Basse Terre)
Parking: Ample parking in front of the tourist office, directly in front of the beach (note that the parking lot has been sectioned in two by some of the food trucks); parking along the road.
Food: A few restaurants; Numerous food shacks and food trucks selling a variety of sandwiches, salads, soft drinks, etc. Sheltered picnic tables along the beach.
Public Showers: Yes, one of five that has yet to be vandalized, located on the side of the tourist office.
Public Restrooms: Yes, located on the other side of the tourist office. The ladies room is locked when the tourist office is closed.

Almond Croissant

As if it were not enough that the local boulangerie makes a triumphant baguette. Here is their almond croissant:

I assumed it was just a croissant with slivered almonds on top. But, its much more substantial as it is filled with frangipane, a sort of almond paste - I love suprises like that! The tips were crisp and flaky (no mean feat on this humid island), and the middle soft and a bit chewy from the almond. And since its a chilly 26°C (79°F) at sundown, I had my almond croissant with a lovely cup of Mariage Frères christmas tea, a gift from this holiday season.

My Colombo

Above, a closeup of my colombo.

A typical dish from the French West Indies is Colombo. Colombo is a meat dish that is simmered in a sauce flavored by colombo. Colombo is not one single spice, but actually a mixture of spices, with varying quantities of coriander, turmeric and cumin. My 250g bag of Colombo powder, purchased at the supermarket, also has powdered corn, hot peppers, fenugreek, ginger. A variety of meat can be used, the most common being chicken, pork, and goat. The dish is prepared with vegetables, and like colombo powder itself, varies depending on the cook. If colombo looks and tastes similar to Indian cuisine, it is because its origins are Indian. Colombo is the fusion of Indian cuisine, brought here by indentured Indian workers who came to the French West Indies after slavery was abolished, with local flavors.

I think a gauge of successful adaptation is the ability to cook local cuisine well. And so I've embarked upon a mission to cook a great colombo.

I've based my colombo on a short recipe that I found in a booklet on Antillais cuisine that M. bought upon his arrival. This particular recipe calls for the following ingredients: 500g lean pork, cut into pieces; 5 green onions; 1 clove of garlic, crushed; thyme; 1 large tablespoon of colombo powder, a pepper; and, according to the season, eggplant, christophine (chayote), green mangoes, and potatoes, cut into pieces.

The first time I made colombo, I used chunks of pork loin and 2 eggplants, following the directions fairly closely. It did not come out well. The second half of the recipe calls for simmering the meat and eggplants for 30-45 minutes, at the end of which, the chunks of eggplant had dissolved into skin and seeds. The sauce was too liquid-y.

The second time I made colombo, I used only 1 eggplant, and added a potato. I didn't follow the recipe anymore and cooked it as I would. It came out fairly well. I ended up with a good thick sauce, but very little of it.

This is the third time I've made colombo, and I think I've made some vast improvements to the form. Still one eggplant, but instead of the potato, I used chunks of igname (a local yam). I also added 1 christophine.


Above, my most recent attempt at colombo de porc. Yes, that is a wok. I cook with what I have.

Now that I've got the main ingredients and the cooking method down, I'll start working on the taste. I used fresh thyme the first two times, as I have for all the Antillais dishes I've made, but found that dried 'herbes de provence' actually gives a much stronger flavor. I started with one or two peppers, but now have increased the quantity to 4 or 5. Since there is already ginger in the powder, I think I may add some fresh ginger to the colombo next time. The green mango is supposed to add an acid note to the dish, which I think is lacking in mine. I'm not sure where I might procure a green mango, but, I've seen a recipe replacing the green mango with a Granny Smith apple. I might just add some tomatoes.

According to M., the colombo tastes great, and on par with the colombo at his local canteen. I have to admit that while I think it tastes good, I don't think it tastes great. I'm not sure if its the ratio of spices in my colombo powder, or if its a lack of some ingredient, or maybe I just don't like colombo. I do like Indian curry, though, so I think I just have to work at it.

I imagine myself one day, serving my colombo to my new Guadeloupean friends, and being congratulated on a colombo that is tastier than their grandmas ever made. May and her triumphant colombo...

Since I don't actually have any Guadeloupean friends yet, I still have some time to perfect my colombo.

Bill Likes Christmas in New York

(click on the image to see the slideshow)

Bill Cunningham of the NYTimes agrees with me about 5th Avenue at Christmas time. Its a lovely slideshow with beautiful images of Christmas weekend in New York.

Developing Country Furniture

The fuzzy and leather-y parts of the cow, all in one couch!

Merry Christmas and Bah Humbug, from Guadeloupe!

M. and I spent Christmas day on the beach. Having spent last Christmas in Guadeloupe (a sort of test-run for moving here), this was not my first warm Christmas. Its obviously quite different. But once you get used to the idea, it can be rather pleasant. Actually, I think most people who are able to have a warm Christmas are pretty smug about it. There were a good number of tourists on the beach, and more than one group came to the beach with a red and white Santa Claus hat and took turns taking pictures with the hat on (most likely to send back to friends in much colder climes).

Above, the beach at Petit Havre and myself as Santa's helper (scanned in from my table place card for Christmas eve dinner)

That was the Merry Christmas from Guadeloupe. The bah humbug came later, when we arrived home.

No water, again. How is it possible for our water to be cut on December 25th? Of all days! Somebody has to go to work to actually turn off the spigot, no? M. rinsed off at the beach, but I - stupidly - thought I could just shower at home. Not wanting to go to bed salty, I opted for the water of last resort: the showers at our local beach. I put on a clean swimsuit, brought my soap, and had my shower...with the waves crashing in the darkness behind me, the only light coming from the headlights of our car. Class! While it was a bit chilly, the shower was not half as bad as I thought. M. did note that I would never be able to shower outdoors, in December, back in New York. Indeed.

One must be grateful on Christmas. I was pretty grateful that it started pouring after we were both in the car, driving back home.

Regular Situation

M. and I spent some time at the Bureau de l'État Civil et des Etrangers, located in the sprawling compound of the Prefect yesterday. M. remarked that my parents probably did not imagine that, after having jumped through all the bureaucratic hoops to become American citizens, their own daughter would find herself waiting in an immigration office. How true.

We found ourselves amongst a group of 30 or so waiting to be called, the palest two in a roomful of black. Most, I believe, were Haitian. Signs scotch-taped to the wall were written in Haitian creole, sometimes with French. Li entedi manje nan sal la (1). All four walls were darkened at seated head level by the hundreds or thousands of heads that have waited here. Children stumbled over legs and benches while babies sat in mother's laps. The children looked healthy, the babies were fat - these children eat more than just mudcakes. This piece of France floating in the middle of the Caribbean is refuge and asylum for Haitians who have managed to travel the 740 miles, with or without papers. In comparison, my request for papers seems so much less urgent, almost indulgent.

(1) Il est interdit de manger dans cette salle. Eating is forbidden in this room.

I Love Ice Cream

France has great ice cream and our favorites are from the HB brand. Okay, HB is not French, its actually Irish, but I consider it to be a luxury of living in France since its not available in the US. M. loves Magnums, which I admit are fairly devastating. I find Magnums a little too rich for daily consumption. My favorite are Soleros, vanilla ice cream coated in an exotic fruit sorbet. It reminds me of the vanilla ice cream / orange sorbet combination that US supermakets carry. If the image is true to content, 'exotic' is a mixture of mango, pineapple, peach, and passion fruit (lots of P's!). Unfortunately, Carrefour only carries Solero exotic, so I can't tell you if Solero smoothie strawberry banana or blackberry banana are any good. The packaging itself is pretty yummy: the orange stripes against a cream background. HB's website is incredibly cute, probably created for kids, but fairly amusing.

Eating Well

As I mentioned in a previous post, our local boulangerie in Trois-Rivières makes an excellent baguette. Here, the baguette is consistently good. The only stipulation is that you must clearly ask for a baguette that is 'bien cuite,' or well cooked, since some customers apparently like their baguette on the soft side (why, I haven't the foggiest). Today's baguette was absolutely marvelous, having been bought while still warm. It was the perfect color, the perfect crustiness, a triumph, I think.


Above, the triumphant baguette. Below, a detail.


Otherwise, we stopped by the market in Basse Terre. We haven't been there in a long time, and so also had to stop by Marcellia's stand to restock on rum. M. chose a red currant punch, which is, along with coconut punch, the traditional punch of the season. Technically, the red currant punch is not exactly a true punch since it is not a masceration of red current berries, but a mixture of red currant syrup plus rum. M. also picked up two bottles of shrub to send to family in France for Christmas. Shrub is rum infused with the peel of an orange (or tangerine, or clementine) plus a good amount of sugar. Beyond these two main components, other ingredients may be added according to personal tastes, vanilla and cinnamon being the most popular.


The more I dine in other people's homes, the more I realize that everybody 'makes' their own alcohol. Its not just people who are from Guadeloupe, or have Antillais roots, but even recent expats. M.'s got a little booklet of traditional creole recipes, including one for shrub. It sounds pretty delicious, and I've convinced him that we ought to try our hand at making our own.

Too Connected

Having spent yet another day aimlessly on the internet, I wonder if the internet is sabotaging my attempt at making a new life in Guadeloupe.

When I first arrived in September, internet had not yet been installed at the house and would not be for almost an entire month. I think its unnecessary to describe the anguish. Still, it took me one whole week to overcome my fear of going out alone so that I could use the free internet at the local library. I can tell you, I was ecstatic when we finally got internet at the house.

Since, I obsessively check my email, refreshing that inbox continually. I also read the NYTimes everyday: first the style and food pieces, occasionally some real estate and home&garden, and finally, I dutifully read the headlines, some world and US politics. Occasionally, I read some other online magazines, and a few blogs. All of this inevitably leads me to random surfing on the internet. Added to work, my days are essentially spent in front of my computer, online.

It has occurred to me that time I spend online, connecting with the world outside of Guadeloupe, is time I might have spent with Guadeloupe. M.'s brother J.C. spent three weeks here, and in those three weeks, he had more contact with people here than I have during the three months I've been on this island.

Worse, since November, I've started blogging, which adds a few hours of internet time weekly.

I started this blog for a few reasons. I feel a blog is a wonderful way of sharing my experiences and my new life with family and friends, all of whom now live several layovers away. However, I blog mainly for myself - a reason, I think, that is fairly common amongst bloggers. I blog to reflect upon my experiences and my life in Guadeloupe, and to do so in an intelligent and thoughtful way. The prospect of having an audience ensures that I take the time to blog, and do so in a somewhat serious manner - both of which gives blogging a great advantage over a personal diary. Finally, I started this blog in hopes that it would help me adapt. I thought it might help me generate the excitement I lacked in making Guadeloupe my new home.

Despite these good intentions, though, I think blogging about Guadeloupe may only make any sort of integration or assimilation more difficult because I insulate myself from my new environment. I observe, but do not participate. I see and experience my life through the lens of a former New Yorker, instead of attempting to seeing Guadeloupe as it is.

Perhaps this view is harsh. Anybody who is obliged to undergo such a radical change is permitted a period of adaptation. In any case, I don't think I will give up blogging for the time being (nor stop my other online activities), but I think I will try harder to get away from my computer, and out into the real Guadeloupe more often.

Plage de la Caravelle

Plage de la Caravelle is supposedly one of the most beautiful beaches in Guadeloupe. Its hard to say, since I think most beaches in Guadeloupe are pretty amazing.

La Caravelle falls within the commune of Sainte-Anne, which lies on the southern coast of Grande Terre (the eastern 'wing' of the Guadeloupe butterfly), facing a turquoise blue Atlantic Ocean.

There is public parking along the road leading to the beach. Its never been so crowded that there weren't any parking spaces left, but you can always park in the small private lots along the same road for a few euros. Signs posted can direct you.
(Left: The road leading to the beach. On the left, private houses. On the right, free parking!)



After you've parked the car, walk south along the dirt road. You may find the right side of the road littered with wood, corrugated metal, garbage. Not exactly promising for Guadeloupe's most beautiful beach. The road used to be lined with merchants selling beach garb, local crafts. There were even a few food stalls, and a place that rented windsurfing material at the end of the road, facing the water. But all of these merchants were asked to leave by the government in order to enforce French law (1) which prohibits any establishment within 50 meters of the coast.
(Above: The road lined with broken down stalls; in the foreground, the last remaining stall selling pareos, rasta-inspired clothing.)

The beach is public, even though it may not appear that way. At the end of the road you must pass through a little gate, somewhat resembling the HEET turnstiles in NYC subways. I suspect that the gates may be chained in the evening. Then, you walk by armed guards with german shepherds. They are somewhat less intimidating than it sounds, since both men and guards are usually lying about underneath an open tent. There will be a narrow path - dirt, then sand - with a low fence running along it. Behind the fence is the Club Med complex (and, the reason for the guards and dogs). Walk along the path until you find a nice spot.
(Above, the narrow path. That sideways palm tree is great for posing)

It can be a bit of a hike, depending on what part of the road you parked. So you may be tempted to spread out your towel at the first empty spot on the beach. But, the first section of the beach is rather windy. The breeze may seem nice after all the walking, but it will get tiresome. If you continue walking along the path until the path completes a full right turn - or, alternatively, until you pass the jolly roger - you'll come to the section that is best suited for lying about, windlessly.
(Above: Windy part of the beach, perfect for windsurfing.)

There is an invisible border marked by the small concrete pier. After this pier, most of the people on the beach will be Club Med guests, since the main entrance to the hotel lies further down along the low fence. Here, the beach chairs are for Club Med guests. The photographers are for Club Med guests. And, most painfully, the man wandering about with little cubes of watermelon on a platter, are also for Club Med guests. This, of course, does not prevent you in any way from choosing any spot beyond said pier. You will not be bothered. You simply won't get any watermelon.

If you get hungry, you have two options: You can either walk back to the dirt road where you parked your car. You probably already saw the small restaurants amongst the houses that serve sandwiches, and also full meals. Or, for those who are too lazy to make the trek, merchants wander up and down along the beach selling various and variously tasty things: crepes, sandwiches, cakes, donuts, pineapple, coconut. There is also a man, set up not far from the jolly roger, that sells fresh coconut juice. He hacks off a piece with his machete and pops in a straw. You can also buy non-food items, such as pareos, seashell necklaces, etc.
(Above: A wandering merchant showing a sunbather children's clothes made from madras and folk print cloth.)

















Plage de la Caravelle
A white sand beach facing turquoise waters, in front of Club Med, populated mostly by tourists from Club Med, with a mixture of couples and families. The beach and water are kept extremely clean. First section of the beach is ideal for windsurfing; entire beach has strong currents at times.
Location: Ste. Anne (Grand Terre)
Parking: Public parking along the road; private parking in small lots.
Food: Restaurants along the road to the beach; wandering food merchants.
Public Showers: None
Public Restrooms: None

(1) Loi Littoral

Ananas Rouge 2

Apparently, M. has a peculiar method of selecting pineapples. Whereas some shoppers may avoid such fruit, taking the double crown as a sign of poor health, or worse, some form of carcinogenic mutation, M. happily brings it home for our own consumption.

PAUL Christmas Logs

PAUL bakery is one of my favorite things about France. Surprisingly, it was not as the French say, un coup de foudre. I fell in love - madly, deeply in love - with each loaf of bread, tart, pain au chocolat...and of course, the macaroons (1). To imagine that I looked upon PAUL's pistachio macaroon with suspicion!

Above, the line spilling out of a PAUL bakery in Cannes. Whenever I could, I bought the family bread from PAUL.

Since, I take every occasion to eat at PAUL, especially since there is no PAUL in New York.
Every time I am in France, of course - Aix, Paris, Cannes, Nîmes, including Orly airport, once, while making a connection for Italy - and twice in Miami (once walking up Lincoln Road, and then once on the way back down Lincoln!)

I was pleased to discover, then, that Guadeloupe has its very own PAUL. Two, in fact. One at Bas-du-Fort, and the other in the commercial zone of Jarry. Unfortunately, both are too far to make our local boulangerie (though, the boulangerie where we buy our bread in Trois-Rivières sells an excellent baguette, supposedly one of the best in Guadeloupe). We make special trips to the PAUL in Jarry when we want to buy something for a special occasion.

I am looking forward to stopping by next week to pick up a Christmas log. Hardly sounds appetizing in English, but I assure you, these logs are more than edible:

Above, from left to right: la Tout Choco, la Framboise Nougat, la Fondante, le Chalet
(pictured at the top of this post, la Pain d'Épices; not pictured from the selection, la Mokatine)
Click on the image for a larger image.

I haven't quite decided which one I want. And, for almost €20, its too expensive to have one of each. Whichever one I choose, though, I am certain it will be delicious. Not quite Christmas in New York, but a nice consolation prize.

(1) What's a macaroon?: "One of PAUL’s best-loved treats, these heavenly macaroons are very special. Our soft Valencia almond biscuits are sandwiched with smooth butter cream filling and come in five mouth-watering versions: Chocolate, Coffee, Praline, Vanilla and Pistachio."

Days Until Christmas

Just 11 more days until Christmas, but I don't feel ... christmasy. The differences in climate has a lot to do with it. Christmas is difficult to imagine in perpetual summer.

Christmas is not my favorite holiday, but I do love the holiday season, despite what people say about the rampant commercialism. The lights, the bows, the tinsel, the sugar and spice. New York seems to be particularly beautiful during Christmas, midtown in particular with all the window displays.

Above, from the upper left hand corner, clockwise: Bergdorf Goodman Christmas window, Radio City Music Hall marquee, Time Warner Center atrium, Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree and Skating Rink, snowflakes on Saks Fifth Avenue, Christmas day buffet at my parent's house, The San Remo residential building seen from Central Park in winter.*

But, its not just Christmas on 5th Avenue that I love. I find Christmas music, even the annoying stuff they play on loop at Duane Reade, kind of joyful. I like the seasonal cookies that come out, like the white fudge covered Oreos. I love the lights people string on their fire escapes, the city version of the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. I find contentment in a silent and cold street, decorated here and there with the signs of Christmas.

In talking about Christmas in Guadeloupe, an acquaintance mentioned that I ought to see the beautiful nativity display at Destrellan, one of the large commercial centers near the capital. I had already seen the display, since it was set up much earlier in the month. Its an incredibly simple flocked figurine display, typical of malls or other public places. I can't describe it in more detail because I hardly gave it a second look. How to tell her that nothing here could ever measure up to Christmas in New York?

* All photos, except of family buffet, taken from Flickr by wallyg, wheelmaker, thomas churchwell, corbetz, ppinksky7, mediaavatar.

Weather in December

It must be a slow news day because French national news actually led with a piece on the extreme ice storm that hit New England this weekend. Its not unseasonably cold in New York, though. According to the records, the temperatures are fairly average. But I thought I would share with you the beach where I spent my Saturday:


La Chapelle beach, located in the city of Anse Bertrand, on the northern tip of Grande Terre.

Ananas Rouge

One of the upsides of moving to Guadeloupe is the availability of tropical fruits: pineapples, passion fruit, guavas, etc. Of course, all of these fruits are available at certain markets and stores in New York. But being 'exotic,' they're usually available only certain times of year, and are quite expensive. 'Exotic' is relative, of course. Exotic fruits in Guadeloupe are raspberries, apples, figs. These come shipped in from France and Europe, and the prices reflect the distance traveled. So we eat local, happily.

Above, an ananas rouge that we bought last week. Then, the skin was still dark red, almost purple. You can't tell, since there is no reference, but its a large pineapple. And one with a funny haircut. We cut it up today for lunch. It was delish.

A great dessert that we had first at Les Cocotiers, an excellent restaurant in our neighborhood, inspired a dessert that we make at home whenever we have pineapple: Coconut ice cream served with fresh pineapples, doused with a tablespoon of aged rum. Its an incredibly simple recipe (at least, once you've got the pineapple cut up into pieces...), but just perfect in every way. The coconut ice cream is usually a little too sweet by itself, so the acidity of the pineapple and the alcohol of the rum balance it out. We use the bottle of Brugel that we brought back from our trip to the Dominican Republic, which, M. discovered, is not so great by itself. For guests, we might add some whipped cream and some toasted slivered almonds.

Developing Country Furniture

The house M. and I rent is fully furnished. Its all very functional and in good condition. But most of it is fairly hideous. Its hideous in that 'cheap furniture' kind of way - particle board, metal rods - but also in what my mother calls the 'developing country' kind of way. Its the sort of furniture that you would be hard pressed to find in the United States, except in ethnic furniture stores and in the homes of of the newly immigrated.
Isn't France the ultimate arbiter of style? Perhaps its particular to Guadeloupe. But I feel wrong for blaming such poor taste on the local people. After all, if this is what the store is selling...

Living room sets with 80's inspired patterned fabric:



Bedroom sets that are reminiscent of your grandmother's bathroom:



Postmarked sofa beds:



You should note, these items don't come cheap.

Interesting Ads

Two interesting ads in the paper today:

The first is to mark World Aids Day, today. Specifically, in France, its the 20ème Journée mondiale de lutte contre le sida.

A bit of translation:

Nou Pli Fo = Nous sommes plus forts (We are stronger)

Doubout Kont le Sida = Debout Contre le Sida (Stand Up Against AIDS)

Ansanm Kont le SIDA = Ensemble contre le SIDA
(Together against AIDS)

Earlier in the week, I saw large posters along the nationale, with just the words Nou Pli Fo, and a large line drawing of a conch shell in black. Quite arresting, a mysterious call to arms (or conchs), evoking stylized Che against the red backdrop.

The imagery is aggressive, perhaps, because AIDS is a real problem in Guadeloupe. According to the article in France-Antilles today, the département of Guadeloupe has the second highest number of AIDS patients undergoing treatment, and AIDS deaths. Prevalence is four times that of France métropole.

The second is an ad for France-Antilles itself. The campaign accompanies the launch of France-Antilles' online content.

The image is almost transparent, but behind the text is a map of France, with dots representing the large cities. Except, the names have been replaced with names of cities in Guadeloupe, Martinique and Guyane.

A bit of translation:

France-Antilles is online...
And ever since, its crazy how the Antilles influence the métropole.

The ad is a bit of marketing folly. The métropole was not incredibly influenced by the Antilles before France-Antilles went online, and it certainly isn't any more so after. Case in point: There has been a massive strike in Guyane this past week. The roads in Cayenne, the capital of Guyane, and elsewhere had been completely blocked for more than 4 days by strikes and there was no mention of it on the evening national news. It wasn't until the day before officials in Guyane announced the closure of the port (essentially sealing the département) that the strike made evening headlines. Its as if Marseille had been held hostage by the city's population, closing all roads, the port, the airport, and the story doesn't make the evening news. But, as M.'s brother noted, Guyane is far away...