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Published: March 29th 2007
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St Francois
Place de St Francois 32c, Fine
Someone is always on strike in France and it’s overseas territories. In New Caledonia it was the bus drivers forcing me to rearrange my travel plans. On arrival in Guadeloupe it was complete and utter chaos... the trolley pushers were on strike (baggage carts to our US friends)... how would the country cope?!?! There were placards in French saying ‘death to the trolleys, death to the airport’, trolleys were over turned and the pushers were sitting on the lawn smoking weed. I wondered how the airport would function without the trolleys being returned, until I saw customs officials taking on the extra work load. Wow. I’d like to see that in Australia.
After being burnt by a taxi driver in Sint Maarten the same day, this young aussie was determined to bargain with the best of them. I was headed to the south of the island and had been advised by the hostel owner that it should cost 60 euros. The taxi driver seemed non agreeable to 60 euros and muttered something in French I didn’t understand (not hard). Damn, he was trying to rip me off. I’d be ripped off again and this time in
The Beach
I spent some time sleeping under the trees here... French. Well that’s what I thought until he pointed to the fare metre and said “it is what it is” en François and explained it’s official in Guadeloupe. Ahhh dumb aussie! I hung my head in shame and jumped in the cab for the one hour ride, which worked out less than 60 euros anyway.
Guadeloupe reminded me of New Caledonia, the locals are very relaxed and extremely proud of the island. There is very little crime and most people leave their cars and houses unlocked. Even in the busy capital city people parked their cars with windows down and handbags or wallets clearly visible. Completely different to my experience in Sint Maarten and extremely rare in a world where ‘increased security’ has lost it’s meaning.
I made it to St Francois (the south of Guadeloupe), where I was staying at the Sunset Surf Camp. I had images of long haired dudes hanging out on hammocks, passed out or talking about the ‘gnarly waves dude’ in French which I didn’t understand. But.. That was far from the case, the hostel was spotless and resembled a boutique hotel. There were no ‘surfer dudes’ anywhere and the name was very
Cafe on the beach
I may have had several drinks here... deceptive. The owner Peyo introduced himself and explained that the beach was only 10 metres away, there were free bikes to use, towels, surf boards, hammocks and a small bar. Everything was open planned and it was very relaxing. In true Guadeloupe style nothing was locked up - anyone could have walked in and taken away the large LCD TV’s or computers in the lounge area. Even the bar was completely open and Peyo commented ‘if I’m not here, just grab yourself whatever you want and let me know later’. That happened on several occasions and it was so refreshing to have ‘open rein’ in a place that’s normally littered with do’s and don’ts (ie - hostels with signs or restrictions everywhere). Peyo said no one had ever abused the open bar and he had no reason to ever worry about things being stolen - even the car keys were left in the ignition. You can imagine how relaxing an environment this was and I settled in right away.
My first night was spent pouring drinks with new Dutch friends Arjun and Chantelle. They were on my wave length and were enjoying a 2 week holiday in the Caribbean.
St Francois
Looking back towards the port of St Francois from the beach So, apart from being great people we also had a lot in common. I spent my three days in Guadeloupe exploring the seaside village of St Francois and hanging out on the long shady beaches. In true French style the entire town closed down between 12pm and 3pm for a ‘long lunch’ and almost everybody headed to the beach. I had cheap baguettes with ham and cheese at the beach side café with a bottle of Carib (local beer) or Perrier. My lack of French for six months was showing but the locals seemed pleased with my efforts in butchering their language. St Francois could be described as slow and sleepy, but it certainly wasn’t boring and I found more than enough things to keep me occupied. I looked forward to returning to the Surf Camp in the afternoon, discussing adventures with my new Dutch friends and hanging out with the other French people on holidays.
I splurged one night and went to the small restaurant next door to have a Creole Steak - it was awesome and so spicy, unlike anything I’d tasted before. The chef was pleased with his work and seemed excited to be serving a
Interior area at Sunset Surf Camp
Very breezy and highly recommended!! real Australian (they don’t get many around these parts). He talked to me about all things Guadeloupe and said moving here from Paris was the best decision he’d ever made. I was shown his house which he said he proudly built himself and than given some wine to try for free (it wasn’t from the Caribbean he explained because they only made rum)… Can’t complain! The amazing hospitality was almost overwhelming and I felt welcome wherever I went.. Including returning to the Surf Camp where Peyo would ask excitedly “how are you and what did you do today?”
I could have easily spent more time in Guadeloupe, but I’d made plans to island hop down to St Lucia via Dominica (where I’d spent a few days). I wasn’t the only one booked on the Island Express service - my new found Dutch buddies had reservations too. I had no plans in Dominica, so when they suggested a mountain lodge and offered to give me a lift in their rental jeep.. well.. I jumped at the opportunity! They were an extremely friendly couple and easy to get along with.
Peyo gave us a lift to the boat in the
Express des iles
The catamaran (aussie made!!.. oi oi oi) to Dominica. Bigger than it looks, there are half a dozen cars on the lower decks morning (at 5.30am) and we loaded our gear onto the giant catamaran for the quick 2 hour trip. Arjun and Chantelle took photos while I grumpily fell asleep inside on the chairs. I got up at 5am damn it!! 5am!!! My lazy time in Guadeloupe came to an abrupt end but the adventures in Dominica were just about to begin. I found out I should have obtained a CARICOM (CARibbean COMmunity) visa which was introduced for the Cricket World Cup. I didn’t have one and the official website warned of dire consequences on arrival. Maybe I’d get thrown out of Dominica or forced to pay lots of money?!? I wasn’t sure. But either way I put my faith in a little country I knew little about because I’d missed the boat (well… not literally, but you know what I mean).
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Morb
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Alcholics Annoymous. Hi My name is Matt
I don't think there is a journal entry where you don't mention "beer". I think a long stint in rehab might be called for on return before you end up like Derryn Hinch with Sirocis (sp???) of the liver