Sunday 27 September 2009 21:50
Three quotes can sum up this weekend. In chronological order:
Kristen: “I think African people are A LOT stronger than I am!”
Joby: “il faut pas grossir. C’est bon comme ça”
Paul : « laisse tomber, laisse tomber »
And now, to explain. Friday night, Kristen and I had our second Traditional Dance class: African Dance. Holy crap, was it hard. I was literally dripping sweat. It fell from my face, rolled down my arms and burned my lips. And I loved every moment of it. The movements were difficult, required serious endurance and raw in a way that is completely unfamiliar to my westernness. After the course, I had the scariest car ride of my life with the instructor who was nice enough to drive us home. From the backseat, I sent Kristen a text message “great dancer, terrible driver.” I was 1. Afraid for my life 2. Afraid for the lives of other people on the road 3. Worried about getting whiplash and 4. Crying on the inside for the poor transmission and brakes in her car. She literally went 40 km/h in first gear. The car was screaming in pain and I wanted to ask her if I could please just drive. I didn’t, though, and I made it home in one piece, thankfully.
Saturday morning, Kristen and I went to rent a car. The woman, the afternoon before had promised me I could rent a car for about 20 euros a day and then when I went back, said we must have had some sort of misunderstanding and wouldn’t let it happen. Instead, the best we could get was 80 Euros for two days. Helllllll no. So, the hike was scrapped for Sunday, our plans, of course, altered (as always, thank you Martinique). So, we went to the beach. Sadly, I got my second sunburn. However, it wasn’t from the beach. It was from the morning, waiting around at the car rental place (“opened” at 8, the woman who runs the counter arrived maybe at 8:30, probably later). But, it wasn’t bad and has already faded from red to brown. Early afternoon, caught a bus home and instead of studying, I sat around downstairs with Florence and Sebastien. Drank a beer, had some bread with nutella, had some coffee, chatted sports. Ran upstairs, showered and caught the last bus to Kristen’s house for a birthday party for Gilbert, Jobi’s cousin who is always there for Kristen and I when we need a ride (or anything, really) , took us on a tour of the island, has been super pro-active about getting internet at the house and has driven me home countless times. Fortunately, as of tomorrow, he won’t need to drive me home because I am going to be living downstairs with Kristen!
The fête was awesome. Pour la plus part, it was just Kristen, Jobi, Youma (Jobi’s wife), Gilbert, another friend of the family and I. Kristen and I made grilled cheese and tomato soup, Youma made these avocado/farine (flour) de Manicot (a root)/onion/garlic/piment (like baby bell peppers) balls which usually have fish in them (she made half without for us) and an amazing, super rich cake. Gilbert brought champagne. The second quote took place in the kitchen when I exclaimed to Jobi, after having eaten a lot of food and delicious cake, “je vais grossir ici,” “I am going to get fat here” to which he said, basically (it’s a tough phrase to translate) "Don’t get fat, you’re great as is.”
Thanks, Jobi!
And so we are brought to Sunday.
29 September 2009 22h00
Continuing on that vein. Sunday was a particularly long day, in some ways. I woke up early and walked most of the way to the Schoelcher beach to go kayaking with Kristen. From my previous residence, it’s about 4-5 Kilometers, or 3 miles. As I was walking, someone pulled over and asked if I was heading to the beach. When I said yes, he offered me a ride. I assessed the situation and decided it was okay, and it was. I spend a lot of time being weary of the people here but there’s a certain point, I am finding, where it’s okay to accept kindness from strangers. My dad always gives people the benefit of the doubt and there are times when I take his example to heart and it’s usually not a problem. Many people are actually quite nice here, despite how much I complain about getting hit on constantly. But like my friend said to me today “you’re a beautiful, white girl. You’re like a trophy to them.” Well, sort of. But to continue, I accepted the ride to the beach and turned down the invite to a concert/party in the southern part of the island that night.
Kristen and I kayaked a bit but the wind was rough and the waves pretty choppy. It was nice to be out on the water and actually doing something. Afterwards, I walked back to the house where Florence invited me to go to the beach with her and the kids. Definitely. And this is where Sunday went downhill, sort of. The beach was glorious and the black, volcanic sand burned my feet. Sebastien didn’t come with us so I split my time between swimming and playing with Paul and Luc and laying on my towel with Florence and chatting. At the beach we went to, there’s a pier where the water is deep enough to jump into. There were some teenage looking kids (16-20 ish) lounging and the boys and I. It was really fun to play around and jump into the water and throw the kids in and be pushed by them in turn. The teenage kids were showing off and, one specifically, was doing back flips and making huge splashes. More than once, he sauntered past me and pushed me in. Whatever. 13 year old flirting is super classy, dood. Some of the other kids were pulling their shorts down and showing off their underpants. Again, classy. Again, whatever. It got shitty, however, when they started trying to get my attention. I was clearly occupied with my much more interesting 8 and 10 year old friends but they addressed me “je te parle, je te parle, I speak to you.” One consequent of my time here is that I have gotten really really good at ignoring people- to the point of being deaf. I have no idea what they said before and after “je te parle” but after a certain point, I said coldly, without looking at them “je peux comprendre le français, merci beaucoup.” I told Paul I was going to swim back to the beach to hang out with Florence and he decided to come with me. A note about Paul: he is probably the kindest and most sensitive 10 year old I have ever met. When the kids were showing off their skivvies, he called them “cochons” or “pigs” and told them it was stupid. Well, when I dove into the water to swim away, it became clear they were mocking and tormenting me. I continued to occupy myself with watching the kids but couldn’t ignore when they told me to “casse-toi dans la mer avec l’autre poubelle” which roughly translates to break yourself in the water with the other trash. The also laughed at me as I swam away and had something to say about that. Paul yelled something at them in French and said to me “Laisse tomber, bessany, laisse tomber” – let it fall, let it go. The rest of the time at the beach passed uneventfully, thankfully, and I didn’t get sunburnt at all. My swimming skills are improving, too.
One thing that surprised me about the kids at the pier is that it wasn’t racism. In the group, they were black, white, and somewhere in between. It had more to do with not being from around here. regionalism, maybe? Florence and I talked a lot about it and she has the same problem. Being from the Metropole, many people automatically hate her. Being white, many people assume we are Béké. More on that later, but don’t forget that term. It’s VERY important in Martinique. Very.
Monday, yesterday, I moved!!!! I’m writing, presently, from my room with a fan (didn’t have that at Mme’s house) and a Mousquitaire (mosquito net) to protect me from the monsters, my own private shower/sink (Kristen and I share a toilet-room) and a much nicer space in general. We have our own downstairs apartment, with an unfinished kitchen (maybe someday it will be done…) and a dining room table to study at and privacy, glorious privacy. AND! This morning I took a hot shower for the first time since August 31. A month with no hot water… “I didn’t know you were travelling in time to the middle ages” my friend from Willamette said today. Youma and Jobi are super nice and the house is absolutely beautiful. There is art everywhere- wood carvings and sculptures outside and I love it. There is also a litter of 6 baby kittens (maybe a month old) upstairs and I’m in love with them. Kristen and I talked about it and she said it’d be okay if we had maybe one down here but we don’t want to have to clean up after them all the time. Kittens!
Today I had 5 hours of class consecutively, with the same professor, in the same class. Two different classes, fortunately, but by the end of it, I was losing spent. Both are English classes but conducted frequently in French (unless she is lecturing) and both are very engaging. The latter is my masters course (4th year of schooling, though) on myths, interculturality and iconography in Anglophone Caribbean literature. It’s definitely difficult, but I think it will be well worth the effort. Tonight, I did more than two hours of intense physical activity and know I will feel it tomorrow.
Sebastien works as a personal trainer and also leads classes on “renforcement musculaire” and “step” (aerobics). Florence invited me to come to a class, so tonight, I went to the “muscular reinforcement” and immediately afterwards, Seb dropped me off in Fort de France (with his Vespa) for my second Bélé dance course. Not to be confused with Béké. Dancing is really fun and I’m beyond glad that Kristen and I went through the trouble of signing up for the class. It’s state run- anyone can sign up for a course in things like dance, ceramics, basket weaving (underwater left handed basket weaving), drawing, etc. It costs 45 euros per activity but it lasts until May. And with the traditional dance courses, we get to go to 3 different courses a week. So… 45 Euro divided by 3 courses a week divided by 12 weeks (until I fly home)… you do the math. Plus, when I asked Sebastien how much the class costs, he said “gratuit” (free for me), so I told him I can watch the kids whenever they need. Sounds like my kind of deal.
So, after a very shitty homesick feeling Monday, made especially worse by a professor who is too busy being a politician to show up for class, today was exhausting but in a worthwhile sort of way. Martinique continues to surprise, frustrate, amaze and confound me. It at once leaves me breathless with its vibrant colors, natural, green beauty, warm, clear ocean water (which I can, cruelly, see from the library) but I am frequently upset by some of the people and especially by the political situation. I promise next time to explain more on that, and also Béké but for now, it is time to rest in the comfort of my new home and look forward to another hot shower tomorrow.
All my love, Bethany
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
So it continues...
"Wifi ok, mais d'autres perturbations à venir."
So says the sign-in site. Wifi is back again, after 4 days, but "other problems to come." Thanks for the warning, but I think it is written in the culture. Oh this culture. When people would ask me why I chose Martinique (a small island in the middle of the Caribbean), I told them I wanted a different cultural experience. Be careful what you ask for, I'm learning.
BUT, like I am constantly reminding myself, there is SO MUCH to be learned here. And not all of it comes from trials and frustration. More than learning patience and how to ignore assholes on the street, I'm also learning a little creole here and there. "Ca ou fe?" is the equivalent of "ca va" or "how's it going," for example. Kristen and I are also taking a course on Traditional dance which includes African and Martiniquais dances. We had our first class Tuesday evening and absolutely loved it! Mme Mitrail is making me the skirts and "madras" for the class, too, on her ancient sewing machine. The machine is a hand crank machine! It doesn't plug in! I didn't realize people still used them! But I guess there are lots of things I don't realize. I'm really appreciative of her kindness in making me the skirts necessary- she and I are getting along relatively well. I told her the other day that I am moving and explained that "it's not you, it's just going to be close to campus and I will be living with a friend of me. It's easier, more convenient."
I am also continuing to develop my friendship with Florence downstairs. She's only been here since April and understands a lot of the culture shock.
In other news, this morning's class was, instead of Pirates, Corsaires and Flibustiers, devoted to discussing the political situation in Martinique. I'm not complaining. My professor is a political figure and we discussed in length the economic crisis, ideological changes that need to happen and, of course, her goals as a politician. The other night, while chatting with Florence en bas, I learned that for 6 weeks in February and March, a strike completely immobilized the country. The super markets were all shut, there were no gas stations, no gas, nothing was open. The schools were shut down, the buses couldn't run. What did people do for food? They could only buy from the street vendors who were selling at a very high price. Supply and demand, sure, but they also had to feed their families, I suppose. Today in class, when discussing why things are so expensive in Martinique, I learned that bananas that are sold at the grocery stores are shipped from Martinique TO FRANCE to a distributor and then BACK to martinique! What nonsense! Every material/object/product/food that is not produced in Martinique (many many things) is taxed, and not just a few percent. If I understood correctly, it was 30 percent. Yet, the government voted NO on getting rid of the tax. Why? because 40 or 50% of their budgets come from this tax. unbelievable.
But, such is life in a small island in the southern Caribbean. Rum capital of the world but no one can afford it. I get a meal stipend of 220 Euros a month. That is- with's todays exchange rate, which went UP, damnit- close to 330 dollars. This summer, eating organic, local food, I ran about 150 dollars a month. Gas? 1.15 Euros a litre. That's about 6.50 a gallon. Who knew. I didn't. Be careful what you ask for.
I went by the fruit and veggie stand up the street to grab a cucumber and maybe some fruit and the sweet guy who runs it, as before, threw a bunch of stuff in the bag. I handed him a cucumber, a pomme cannelle and a cake (for Mme, to say thanks) and walked away with and additional 1/4 watermelon, an avocado, and 5 pomme cannelles. 4 Euros, he said. I gave him 5. The cake alone was 3. He asked me what I think of Martinique and we had a long discussion about the boys and men here (it's a cultural thing, everyone tells me. Their MOTHERS encourage it!), racism and, of course, the "glory days" before everyone was doing drugs. I love older people for that reason. Things were always perfect back in their day.
Well, if Kristen and I are going to take our hike as planned, I need to find a place to rent a car from. Split between a few people and hopefully it won't cost me my life... hopefully.
So says the sign-in site. Wifi is back again, after 4 days, but "other problems to come." Thanks for the warning, but I think it is written in the culture. Oh this culture. When people would ask me why I chose Martinique (a small island in the middle of the Caribbean), I told them I wanted a different cultural experience. Be careful what you ask for, I'm learning.
BUT, like I am constantly reminding myself, there is SO MUCH to be learned here. And not all of it comes from trials and frustration. More than learning patience and how to ignore assholes on the street, I'm also learning a little creole here and there. "Ca ou fe?" is the equivalent of "ca va" or "how's it going," for example. Kristen and I are also taking a course on Traditional dance which includes African and Martiniquais dances. We had our first class Tuesday evening and absolutely loved it! Mme Mitrail is making me the skirts and "madras" for the class, too, on her ancient sewing machine. The machine is a hand crank machine! It doesn't plug in! I didn't realize people still used them! But I guess there are lots of things I don't realize. I'm really appreciative of her kindness in making me the skirts necessary- she and I are getting along relatively well. I told her the other day that I am moving and explained that "it's not you, it's just going to be close to campus and I will be living with a friend of me. It's easier, more convenient."
I am also continuing to develop my friendship with Florence downstairs. She's only been here since April and understands a lot of the culture shock.
In other news, this morning's class was, instead of Pirates, Corsaires and Flibustiers, devoted to discussing the political situation in Martinique. I'm not complaining. My professor is a political figure and we discussed in length the economic crisis, ideological changes that need to happen and, of course, her goals as a politician. The other night, while chatting with Florence en bas, I learned that for 6 weeks in February and March, a strike completely immobilized the country. The super markets were all shut, there were no gas stations, no gas, nothing was open. The schools were shut down, the buses couldn't run. What did people do for food? They could only buy from the street vendors who were selling at a very high price. Supply and demand, sure, but they also had to feed their families, I suppose. Today in class, when discussing why things are so expensive in Martinique, I learned that bananas that are sold at the grocery stores are shipped from Martinique TO FRANCE to a distributor and then BACK to martinique! What nonsense! Every material/object/product/food that is not produced in Martinique (many many things) is taxed, and not just a few percent. If I understood correctly, it was 30 percent. Yet, the government voted NO on getting rid of the tax. Why? because 40 or 50% of their budgets come from this tax. unbelievable.
But, such is life in a small island in the southern Caribbean. Rum capital of the world but no one can afford it. I get a meal stipend of 220 Euros a month. That is- with's todays exchange rate, which went UP, damnit- close to 330 dollars. This summer, eating organic, local food, I ran about 150 dollars a month. Gas? 1.15 Euros a litre. That's about 6.50 a gallon. Who knew. I didn't. Be careful what you ask for.
I went by the fruit and veggie stand up the street to grab a cucumber and maybe some fruit and the sweet guy who runs it, as before, threw a bunch of stuff in the bag. I handed him a cucumber, a pomme cannelle and a cake (for Mme, to say thanks) and walked away with and additional 1/4 watermelon, an avocado, and 5 pomme cannelles. 4 Euros, he said. I gave him 5. The cake alone was 3. He asked me what I think of Martinique and we had a long discussion about the boys and men here (it's a cultural thing, everyone tells me. Their MOTHERS encourage it!), racism and, of course, the "glory days" before everyone was doing drugs. I love older people for that reason. Things were always perfect back in their day.
Well, if Kristen and I are going to take our hike as planned, I need to find a place to rent a car from. Split between a few people and hopefully it won't cost me my life... hopefully.
on verra...
Monday, 21 Septembre 11:00 am
C’est vraiment frustrant ici.
So, what you’re trying to tell me is that the WiFi is down and the yoga course doesn’t start until *maybe* October? Oh, okay. So, I got up early and didn’t go for a run and came to campus with my laptop and sports clothes for… nothing? I suppose not for nothing. Character building. As my advisor told me, “There's nothing like being in another place to wake on up. Encountering third-world disfunction is itself educative and interesting. One starts to recalibrate time and purpose, to some extent.”
Touché, Martinique.
At least I had a super awesome weekend, pour la plus part (for the most part). Exhausting? yes. Overwhelming? at times. Friday afternoon, I battled through some dense literature for a class I can’t actually take, unfortunately. The masters course in Caribbean Art and Literature. But, I think I am going to talk to the professor and figure out if I can follow the coursework and come to the last hour of class? We’ll see. Like Kristen and I always say, on verra.
But, back to my weekend before I start dwelling on how frustrated I am right now. So, Friday night was pretty typical. There was nothing to do and I couldn’t get a ride to/from Kristen’s house so I read some Jamaica Kincaid for class and then fell asleep while reading at 21h30. Because I am seriously that cool. It’s not me, it’s Martinique. If you don’t have a car, that’s it. The streets are dead after about 19h30 and I wouldn’t want to be out by myself at night. Well, I want to be but it’s highly not recommended and not at all okay. So I woke up around 6 on Saturday and went for an awesome run. While running, at about 6h45, I saw a beautiful, gigantic rainbow spanning half way across the sky, streaking its away through the clods. It started in the ocean so there’s probably a sunken pirate ship I should quest for to become infinitely rich. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so damn bored here. Later Saturday morning, we had a reunion for international students with the head honcho for the entire University (all campuses in Martinique, Guadeloupe and Guiana). It was helpful and reassuring, pour la plus part. We were able to talk in a group about our frustrations and the problems everyone is running into with the system.
There should be a dictionary which defines mess as Université des Antilles et de la Guyane.
After the meeting, Kristen and I met up with our friend Priscisla (pree-cease-la) and her friends to go to Fort St. Louis in Fort-de-France. This weekend was some sort of nation-wide (I am in France, after all) holiday and all the museums were free or discounted. It was informative and interesting. In the evening, I caught the last bus from my house to Kristen’s after waiting at the stop feeling super sketchy about all the sort of vagrant men staring at me or the creeper who asked me, (in French) “waiting for the bus?” What do you think I’m doing? I cooked some dinner over there and spent time getting organized (or trying) before Gilbert drove me home.
Sunday, I woke up early yet again, was picked up by Priscisla’s friend Audrée (?), and picked up Kristen and Priscisla to go on a guided nature walk… or so we thought. It turned out to be an explanation of the oldest school house in Schoelcher (the quartier/town the University is located in, right next to Fort-de-France) which, although interesting, wasn’t very engaging. So we left, drove north up the coast, and went to a distillery where we less about the rum production and more about the household culture and forms of dress back in the sugarcane plantation days. We walked around the grounds, too. The house turned museum is a gigantic old mansion on an immense green plot of land surrounded by flowers with two fountains in front. Then, we went to the museum of volcanology and watched a movie on the geological history of the archipelago Martinique is on. After the past two weekends, I can tell you A LOT about Mt Pelée. For example, there were two big eruptions, one in 1902 which killed about 30,000 people and the second in 1929. From 1902 to 1930, the mountain grew over 100 meters. Rad, huh?
Afterwards, Priscisla took us to her family’s house in Morne Rouge where her mother made us a fantastic repas (meal) of Bananes Jaune (bananas which are cooked like a vegetable), avocat (avocados), riz (rice), Concombre, and I even tried Codfish. It was salty. We also tried some white rum (50 proof!) with cane sugar and lime in it and Priscisla’s sister made us avocado/banana milk shakes. All in all, it was fantastic. On our way back towards Fort de France, we stopped and swam for half an hour, relaxed a little and then back home.
When I got in, Mme promptly asked me if I had locked the door downstairs on my way in. Not yet. So, I got yelled at. Great. Last night, before I went to bed, she reminded me for the millionth time to stop the doors with the doorstops because they clack. She drives me insane. But, after getting yelled at, I got my things together and went downstairs to study outside in peace. I ended up talking with Florence, the mother of the downstairs family. She has similar problems with Mme and was super nice to talk to. While I sat outside, she brought me some tea and a lantern to read by when it got dark. She also said after I move, they would love to have me over for dinner some time. Her significant other-not husband, the kids are from a divorced first husband-is named Sebastian, and he has a daughter from a first marriage back in the “metropole.” Florence and Sebastian. Sounds like something out of Shakespeare. Her kids are fascinated by me and my foreignness. It’s cute.
Well, back to the old grind of schoolwork and sorting through this system. Let’s hope I don’t get yelled at by a 75 year old woman today.
Bethany
C’est vraiment frustrant ici.
So, what you’re trying to tell me is that the WiFi is down and the yoga course doesn’t start until *maybe* October? Oh, okay. So, I got up early and didn’t go for a run and came to campus with my laptop and sports clothes for… nothing? I suppose not for nothing. Character building. As my advisor told me, “There's nothing like being in another place to wake on up. Encountering third-world disfunction is itself educative and interesting. One starts to recalibrate time and purpose, to some extent.”
Touché, Martinique.
At least I had a super awesome weekend, pour la plus part (for the most part). Exhausting? yes. Overwhelming? at times. Friday afternoon, I battled through some dense literature for a class I can’t actually take, unfortunately. The masters course in Caribbean Art and Literature. But, I think I am going to talk to the professor and figure out if I can follow the coursework and come to the last hour of class? We’ll see. Like Kristen and I always say, on verra.
But, back to my weekend before I start dwelling on how frustrated I am right now. So, Friday night was pretty typical. There was nothing to do and I couldn’t get a ride to/from Kristen’s house so I read some Jamaica Kincaid for class and then fell asleep while reading at 21h30. Because I am seriously that cool. It’s not me, it’s Martinique. If you don’t have a car, that’s it. The streets are dead after about 19h30 and I wouldn’t want to be out by myself at night. Well, I want to be but it’s highly not recommended and not at all okay. So I woke up around 6 on Saturday and went for an awesome run. While running, at about 6h45, I saw a beautiful, gigantic rainbow spanning half way across the sky, streaking its away through the clods. It started in the ocean so there’s probably a sunken pirate ship I should quest for to become infinitely rich. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so damn bored here. Later Saturday morning, we had a reunion for international students with the head honcho for the entire University (all campuses in Martinique, Guadeloupe and Guiana). It was helpful and reassuring, pour la plus part. We were able to talk in a group about our frustrations and the problems everyone is running into with the system.
There should be a dictionary which defines mess as Université des Antilles et de la Guyane.
After the meeting, Kristen and I met up with our friend Priscisla (pree-cease-la) and her friends to go to Fort St. Louis in Fort-de-France. This weekend was some sort of nation-wide (I am in France, after all) holiday and all the museums were free or discounted. It was informative and interesting. In the evening, I caught the last bus from my house to Kristen’s after waiting at the stop feeling super sketchy about all the sort of vagrant men staring at me or the creeper who asked me, (in French) “waiting for the bus?” What do you think I’m doing? I cooked some dinner over there and spent time getting organized (or trying) before Gilbert drove me home.
Sunday, I woke up early yet again, was picked up by Priscisla’s friend Audrée (?), and picked up Kristen and Priscisla to go on a guided nature walk… or so we thought. It turned out to be an explanation of the oldest school house in Schoelcher (the quartier/town the University is located in, right next to Fort-de-France) which, although interesting, wasn’t very engaging. So we left, drove north up the coast, and went to a distillery where we less about the rum production and more about the household culture and forms of dress back in the sugarcane plantation days. We walked around the grounds, too. The house turned museum is a gigantic old mansion on an immense green plot of land surrounded by flowers with two fountains in front. Then, we went to the museum of volcanology and watched a movie on the geological history of the archipelago Martinique is on. After the past two weekends, I can tell you A LOT about Mt Pelée. For example, there were two big eruptions, one in 1902 which killed about 30,000 people and the second in 1929. From 1902 to 1930, the mountain grew over 100 meters. Rad, huh?
Afterwards, Priscisla took us to her family’s house in Morne Rouge where her mother made us a fantastic repas (meal) of Bananes Jaune (bananas which are cooked like a vegetable), avocat (avocados), riz (rice), Concombre, and I even tried Codfish. It was salty. We also tried some white rum (50 proof!) with cane sugar and lime in it and Priscisla’s sister made us avocado/banana milk shakes. All in all, it was fantastic. On our way back towards Fort de France, we stopped and swam for half an hour, relaxed a little and then back home.
When I got in, Mme promptly asked me if I had locked the door downstairs on my way in. Not yet. So, I got yelled at. Great. Last night, before I went to bed, she reminded me for the millionth time to stop the doors with the doorstops because they clack. She drives me insane. But, after getting yelled at, I got my things together and went downstairs to study outside in peace. I ended up talking with Florence, the mother of the downstairs family. She has similar problems with Mme and was super nice to talk to. While I sat outside, she brought me some tea and a lantern to read by when it got dark. She also said after I move, they would love to have me over for dinner some time. Her significant other-not husband, the kids are from a divorced first husband-is named Sebastian, and he has a daughter from a first marriage back in the “metropole.” Florence and Sebastian. Sounds like something out of Shakespeare. Her kids are fascinated by me and my foreignness. It’s cute.
Well, back to the old grind of schoolwork and sorting through this system. Let’s hope I don’t get yelled at by a 75 year old woman today.
Bethany
Friday, September 18, 2009
Coursework in two languages?
I decided to make this experience unnecessarily exhausting for myself: I am taking classes in both English and French. This is all good and fine because the language classes will, in theory, be relatively easy for me (literary theory? no problem...) The problem with this situation is that it is mentally exhausting to constantly switch between two languages. To go from thinking and analyzing in English to trying to have a casual conversation in French with an aquaintance in the library? gah! Or how about going directly from a class on Camus in French to a class on the British Kingdom's government in English where the professor switches between English and French for the students. I guess I didn't expect it to be as taxing on my brain as it is. I also feel like I'm struggling because I'm too attached to the English language. I can think in French, I can understand French (most of the time) and I can speak it well enough but sometimes I just don't want to. Like a petulant child, I want to decide which language I'll live in from day to day. Funny how life isn't like that.
So, as promised, my courses. I think it's about final. Many professors aren't explicit about the expectations of the course... I think we're supposed to somehow know. I'm getting the hang of it, sort of.
I am taking:
Francophone literature of the Caribbean (in French)
Literature of the XXth century (we'll be analyzing Camus' l'Etranger (in French)
Francophone Literature (in French)
Anglo-Caribbean Literature (in English) in which we're reading Jamaica Kincaid's The Autobiography of my Mother through the lens of post-colonial theory. I love it and I love the professor. If I can get credit for it (and maybe even if I can't) I'm taking another course with the same professor, a masters course on Myths, Iconography and Interculturality in Art and Literature of the Caribbean. Sound complicated? Turns out it is. I'm slowing trying to chew my way through Wilson Harris' The Womb of Space and feeling pretty lost.
The last course is sort of terrible. It's a course on Commentary and Disseration of literature but it's really a big lesson on the political situation of Great Britain and how to analyze articles...
So far I really like the 20th century literature class and the course on Jamaica Kincaid. One of the biggest difficulties I'm finding is not being able to find the books and the limited hours of the library. How am I supposed to read 3 books if I can't find them, can't check them out and the library closes at 6 pm? It's a pretty good question which I don't yet know the answer to. It's also difficult because I have nowhere to study at my house and I don't have internet access to look into things I don't understand. Plus, how I am supposed to study in the library when I look outside and see the sea stretching out towards the horizon, coconut trees everywhere and all I really want to do is just sit around and read novels...
So that's the big update for the day. Time continues to pass slowly and quickly and it continues to be hot. Sometimes it pours rain out of nowhere. I like those moments: they remind me of Oregon.
So, as promised, my courses. I think it's about final. Many professors aren't explicit about the expectations of the course... I think we're supposed to somehow know. I'm getting the hang of it, sort of.
I am taking:
Francophone literature of the Caribbean (in French)
Literature of the XXth century (we'll be analyzing Camus' l'Etranger (in French)
Francophone Literature (in French)
Anglo-Caribbean Literature (in English) in which we're reading Jamaica Kincaid's The Autobiography of my Mother through the lens of post-colonial theory. I love it and I love the professor. If I can get credit for it (and maybe even if I can't) I'm taking another course with the same professor, a masters course on Myths, Iconography and Interculturality in Art and Literature of the Caribbean. Sound complicated? Turns out it is. I'm slowing trying to chew my way through Wilson Harris' The Womb of Space and feeling pretty lost.
The last course is sort of terrible. It's a course on Commentary and Disseration of literature but it's really a big lesson on the political situation of Great Britain and how to analyze articles...
So far I really like the 20th century literature class and the course on Jamaica Kincaid. One of the biggest difficulties I'm finding is not being able to find the books and the limited hours of the library. How am I supposed to read 3 books if I can't find them, can't check them out and the library closes at 6 pm? It's a pretty good question which I don't yet know the answer to. It's also difficult because I have nowhere to study at my house and I don't have internet access to look into things I don't understand. Plus, how I am supposed to study in the library when I look outside and see the sea stretching out towards the horizon, coconut trees everywhere and all I really want to do is just sit around and read novels...
So that's the big update for the day. Time continues to pass slowly and quickly and it continues to be hot. Sometimes it pours rain out of nowhere. I like those moments: they remind me of Oregon.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
My house and host
So, I live with an old woman. When I say old, I don't mean it in the way I tease my dad, I mean the woman is 75 and half of her teeth are not her own and I consequently get to see them sitting in a cup in the bathroom. Gross. We live together in the upstairs (en haut) of the house she owns. Downstairs (en bas) there is another family who is really nice and super cute. It's a young French couple with two kids, 10 and 8, who are friends with the kid in the next house over which is separated by a chain link fence. Consequently, Claude, the friend, has a little stoop at the fence where they play and talk together. The other night when I got home, I went down and kicked a soccer ball around with the kids for about half an hour before their mother said it was time to come inside and study poetry.
The upstairs has 3 bedrooms, one full bathroom and one separate closet with just a toilet, a main living room with a TV and the dining room table and a tiny kitchen. There is also a balcony running on two sides of the house where I spend a lot of my time writing, reading, drinking tea and being devoured by mosquitos. It's nice to have my own time out there, instead of having Mme talk my face off. Sometimes, I think I might go insane. She complains all the time and because her hearing is poor, she frequently yells. Her voice always sounds angry or irritated and to make it worse, she rarely speaks in full sentences but instead uses phrases and then repeates herself over and over again when I can't understand what the hell she's talking about. But, it's not so bad. I have my own room and up until yesterday, there was another American living in the house. But, she went home because she hardly speaks French, understood less and only came because her school obligates language majors to go abroad. She definitely wasn't happy. It didn't help that she's engaged and the situation was made worse when Mme took her to the beach where they stayed for 8 hours. Even with 4 applications of sunscreen, she was burnt to the second degree and I was the lucky person who got to play nurse and apply aloe, then burn cream, then pop the millions of blisters with a needle and then cover it with gauze. I assure you, it was not my idea of a good time. But, she left and returned to her fiance and now it's just Mme Mitrail and I, all alone in the house where I can't seem to find a moment of peace. Plus, she always wants to do my laundry. But, I've explained to her many times that I am an adult and now she lets me cook my own food, do my own dishes most of the time and stops folding the clothes I leave on my bed when I go to school.
The downstairs family is really nice, as I mentioned. I asked the husband about finding an old road bike (not looking too good) and the wife, when doing her shopping, looked for a percolator (cafetiere) for me. It's been two and a half weeks and I still don't have the means to make coffee. Fortunately, Mme found a percolater for me in her storage so I have a means to make coffee now. Thank goodness. They also invited me to go to the beach with them Sunday. I accepted the offer.
All in all, seems look to be shaping up. I'm still regularly confounded by the system and continue to wait for this and that. I don't know all of my classes yet but when I do, I'll update on them. The ones I am sure about are looking to be pretty awesome. The education system here is quite different but it is also nationally run. Not like the private liberal arts school I go to. But it also costs a lot more than 500 Euro a year to go there...
Well, back to the library to read my books and prepare for my first presentation. Why did I volunteer to present on the first day of class? I'm not sure.
All my love from the Caribbean,
Bethany
The upstairs has 3 bedrooms, one full bathroom and one separate closet with just a toilet, a main living room with a TV and the dining room table and a tiny kitchen. There is also a balcony running on two sides of the house where I spend a lot of my time writing, reading, drinking tea and being devoured by mosquitos. It's nice to have my own time out there, instead of having Mme talk my face off. Sometimes, I think I might go insane. She complains all the time and because her hearing is poor, she frequently yells. Her voice always sounds angry or irritated and to make it worse, she rarely speaks in full sentences but instead uses phrases and then repeates herself over and over again when I can't understand what the hell she's talking about. But, it's not so bad. I have my own room and up until yesterday, there was another American living in the house. But, she went home because she hardly speaks French, understood less and only came because her school obligates language majors to go abroad. She definitely wasn't happy. It didn't help that she's engaged and the situation was made worse when Mme took her to the beach where they stayed for 8 hours. Even with 4 applications of sunscreen, she was burnt to the second degree and I was the lucky person who got to play nurse and apply aloe, then burn cream, then pop the millions of blisters with a needle and then cover it with gauze. I assure you, it was not my idea of a good time. But, she left and returned to her fiance and now it's just Mme Mitrail and I, all alone in the house where I can't seem to find a moment of peace. Plus, she always wants to do my laundry. But, I've explained to her many times that I am an adult and now she lets me cook my own food, do my own dishes most of the time and stops folding the clothes I leave on my bed when I go to school.
The downstairs family is really nice, as I mentioned. I asked the husband about finding an old road bike (not looking too good) and the wife, when doing her shopping, looked for a percolator (cafetiere) for me. It's been two and a half weeks and I still don't have the means to make coffee. Fortunately, Mme found a percolater for me in her storage so I have a means to make coffee now. Thank goodness. They also invited me to go to the beach with them Sunday. I accepted the offer.
All in all, seems look to be shaping up. I'm still regularly confounded by the system and continue to wait for this and that. I don't know all of my classes yet but when I do, I'll update on them. The ones I am sure about are looking to be pretty awesome. The education system here is quite different but it is also nationally run. Not like the private liberal arts school I go to. But it also costs a lot more than 500 Euro a year to go there...
Well, back to the library to read my books and prepare for my first presentation. Why did I volunteer to present on the first day of class? I'm not sure.
All my love from the Caribbean,
Bethany
Monday, September 14, 2009
Etudiants le semaine, touristes le weekend
This weekend turned out quite well. Given the frustration of waiting around for things to happen during the week and trying to sort out the system, the weekend is a nice break from it all to do touristy things. Saturday morning, Kristen and I caught the navette (boat) from Fort de France to Trois Illets where we had the intention of going to the Maison de Cane (where we could learn about the cane sugar/rum making process) but this is Martinique where the buses don't run on Saturdays. We even briefly thought about renting a car... for 25 Euros? no way. Frustrating. But after exploration around the area, we found ourselves back at the port, standing infront of a boat advertising Plongee, or in English, scuba diving. So we went in, talked to the guys who were really friendly and then thought about it. Why not? After a few hours at the beach, we returned to the boat and started on our way.
We were both pretty nervous but determined. Beforehand, we had lots of time to swim around and look at the reef with our goggle/masks on. The water was phenomenally blue and there were some really pretty fish. The scuba diving part itself was really hard for me. I guess I have a tough time distinguishing between my mouth and nose for breathing which resulted in choking a few times. It also doesn't help that I have a terrible fear of drowning. But, I did it and it was fun if difficult and scary. Unfortunately, I got my first sunburn that Saturday but consider myself lucky that I managed two weeks without one.
Sunday was fun, too. Gilbert, a cousin of Kristen's host family, took us out on a long driving tour of the island. We checked out St Pierre which was the capital and "Paris of the Caribbean" until Mt Pelee exploded in 1902 and killed 30,000 people. We also drove up to the mountain which Kristen and I will summit before we leave... but not in the afternoon when it's hot. Then, Gilbert drove us all around Martinique showing us different little cities and we saw the Atlantic coast of the island and lots and lots and lots of banana farms. It's really beautiful here which at times makes up for the frustration of everything else.
Yesterday night, we made granola. Being in the kitchen is comforting but doesn't quite feel the same. I miss having my own space and privacy and ability to be independent most of the time. However, I have been doing my best to make the situation work and get the most out of my experience. Nonetheless, I've been pretty homesick for the past few days. So it goes.
Well, today is Monday and I'm starting another week of school. I hope this one I will actually have all my classes and find some of my books and discover new ways of occupying my time, of which I seem to have an excessive amount free.
love, Bethany
We were both pretty nervous but determined. Beforehand, we had lots of time to swim around and look at the reef with our goggle/masks on. The water was phenomenally blue and there were some really pretty fish. The scuba diving part itself was really hard for me. I guess I have a tough time distinguishing between my mouth and nose for breathing which resulted in choking a few times. It also doesn't help that I have a terrible fear of drowning. But, I did it and it was fun if difficult and scary. Unfortunately, I got my first sunburn that Saturday but consider myself lucky that I managed two weeks without one.
Sunday was fun, too. Gilbert, a cousin of Kristen's host family, took us out on a long driving tour of the island. We checked out St Pierre which was the capital and "Paris of the Caribbean" until Mt Pelee exploded in 1902 and killed 30,000 people. We also drove up to the mountain which Kristen and I will summit before we leave... but not in the afternoon when it's hot. Then, Gilbert drove us all around Martinique showing us different little cities and we saw the Atlantic coast of the island and lots and lots and lots of banana farms. It's really beautiful here which at times makes up for the frustration of everything else.
Yesterday night, we made granola. Being in the kitchen is comforting but doesn't quite feel the same. I miss having my own space and privacy and ability to be independent most of the time. However, I have been doing my best to make the situation work and get the most out of my experience. Nonetheless, I've been pretty homesick for the past few days. So it goes.
Well, today is Monday and I'm starting another week of school. I hope this one I will actually have all my classes and find some of my books and discover new ways of occupying my time, of which I seem to have an excessive amount free.
love, Bethany
Bienvenue en Martinique: the story of our lives
10 Septembre 2009
Thinking back to my first night arriving here, I was shocked by what I was expecting and received instead. I dreamed of a beautiful island with tropical forests and foliage, miles of beaches stretching for as far as the eye could see, friendly gentle people with youthful smiling faces waiting to welcome me into paradise. What I got instead that first night: humidity, neon signs, crowded crazy highways and a shock. Not just culture shock; mind boggling astonishment. You mean I’m not going into nature?
As it turns out, Martinique is far from what I expected but that’s not necessarily to be taken as a negative. There is much here that is very frustrating: signing up for classes took nearly a week because although course lists were available (for some fields of study), schedules were not. And once schedules were, they didn’t correspond with what was listed as available. And then, of course, the schedules kept changing, even on the first day of classes. Or, how about today when I went to class and there were no students and no professor. Some students I made friends with explained to me today “that just how it is.”As it turns out, a lot of things are just how it are which is why my friend Kristen and I have started saying “Bienvenue en Martinique.”
Welcome to Martinique where the books you need for your classes cannot be found in a local book store, cannot be shipped from most online sellers and have already been checked out from the library. Welcome to Martinique where, when you can order a book online for € 3,88 but are expected to pay over € 12 in shipping. Welcome to Martinique where the bus schedule clearly states the buses run until 19:00 Saturday nights and Sunday morning but stop at about 13:00 on Saturdays and don’t start again until Monday morning. Welcome to Martinique where the buses stop running at 7 pm on weekdays and it’s not safe to be out at night, especially not for a foreign white girl. Welcome to Martinique where men stare at you, make kissy faces, hit on you in English and go so far as to follow you down the street in the middle of the day continuing to address you for 10 minutes despite being ignored entirely. Welcome to Martinique where it’s pitch black at 7 pm but still hot and humid, continues to be humid all night and is quite warm when you go for a run at 6 am. Welcome to Martinique where they didn’t have wireless access at the school for the first week but kept telling you “maybe tomorrow.”
Our realization, which goes hand in hand with “Bienvenue en Martinique” is “on doit attendre. Et attendre, et attendre et attendre et attendre et…” which is to say “you have to wait and wait and wait…” Basically, we’re running into the delicate intricacies of French Bureaucracy with an island attitude about it. Or how about this: In order to get student bus passes, it took two days of searching for the correct office with lots of vague explanations of how to find it, and once we eventually found it, we turned in our paperwork with the explanation that “the pass will come in the mail and once it does you have to find the (mysterious) place on campus where you can pay the 25 Euro to get a coupon (receipt) which says you paid for the pass. And that makes sense… how?
But, please don’t take this as complaining. Well, it’s sort of complaining. But more, it’s an explanation of a culture intricately different from ours. Ours is not necessarily better but it is more familiar. What’s interesting about the attitude here, too, is the people who are truly Martiniquais and have a more Créole attitude just don’t get frustrated. Kristen’s host mother, Youma, constantly teases her when she furrows her brow or gets upset about things, saying “we don’t do that here. Frustration does not exist.” Granted, it’s not the same with my host but that’s a whole different story I won’t go into just yet.
But, I also want to assure you that despite the ups and downs and frustrations and homesickness, I’m having a really good time. I’ve been to two classes so far and both were awesome. I decided to take some English classes while I’m here to continue with my studies and ended up taking a class on “Anglo-Caribbean literature” with a professor who specializes on Jamaica Kincaid and Caribbean women’s literature. We will be reading Jamaica Kincaid’s The Autobiography of my Mother and studying it through the lens of colonial and post-colonial theory which I studied in depth last semester. The other class is on French literature in the twentieth century. In that class, we will be studying Albert Camus’ l’Etranger, a personal favorite author who I have also studied in depth (in English) and we will be using literary theory in that class as well. As an English major, I love literary theory. As a dork, I love literary theory.
I have also been to the beach twice and boy was it glorious! The water is warm and welcoming, if a little too salty for my eyes and the waves gentle and calm. Kristen and I went on a quest for beach glass the other day and played like kids in the sand. We also threw my Frisbee around so I won’t be too rusty when I get back.
So, a little about my friend Kristen who has been my savior for the past week and a half. She goes to the University of Iowa and studies Spanish and French with the intention of studying comparative literature in grad school. She, like me, likes to hike and do yoga and backpack and be outside and run and bike AND she’s a vegetarian. Furthermore, we’re both here to speak French and really learn about a different culture thus, unlike many of the other exchange students, we speak almost exclusively in French even when it’s just the two of us. How else are we going to learn? But, we also know that there are moments, such as when everything seems to be building up and the tears start flowing where English is needed. It’s a great equilibrium. Her host family is really awesome and we’ve learned some creole words and recipes from them. As classes start and we settle into them, I’m hoping more of my time will be occupied with schoolwork so I won’t feel so bored at times but it’ll also be super nice to have weekends to relax and hike and go to the beach.
I’ll continue to update and hopefully won’t be writing novels like this one but no promises…
All my love from Martinique,
Bethany
Thinking back to my first night arriving here, I was shocked by what I was expecting and received instead. I dreamed of a beautiful island with tropical forests and foliage, miles of beaches stretching for as far as the eye could see, friendly gentle people with youthful smiling faces waiting to welcome me into paradise. What I got instead that first night: humidity, neon signs, crowded crazy highways and a shock. Not just culture shock; mind boggling astonishment. You mean I’m not going into nature?
As it turns out, Martinique is far from what I expected but that’s not necessarily to be taken as a negative. There is much here that is very frustrating: signing up for classes took nearly a week because although course lists were available (for some fields of study), schedules were not. And once schedules were, they didn’t correspond with what was listed as available. And then, of course, the schedules kept changing, even on the first day of classes. Or, how about today when I went to class and there were no students and no professor. Some students I made friends with explained to me today “that just how it is.”As it turns out, a lot of things are just how it are which is why my friend Kristen and I have started saying “Bienvenue en Martinique.”
Welcome to Martinique where the books you need for your classes cannot be found in a local book store, cannot be shipped from most online sellers and have already been checked out from the library. Welcome to Martinique where, when you can order a book online for € 3,88 but are expected to pay over € 12 in shipping. Welcome to Martinique where the bus schedule clearly states the buses run until 19:00 Saturday nights and Sunday morning but stop at about 13:00 on Saturdays and don’t start again until Monday morning. Welcome to Martinique where the buses stop running at 7 pm on weekdays and it’s not safe to be out at night, especially not for a foreign white girl. Welcome to Martinique where men stare at you, make kissy faces, hit on you in English and go so far as to follow you down the street in the middle of the day continuing to address you for 10 minutes despite being ignored entirely. Welcome to Martinique where it’s pitch black at 7 pm but still hot and humid, continues to be humid all night and is quite warm when you go for a run at 6 am. Welcome to Martinique where they didn’t have wireless access at the school for the first week but kept telling you “maybe tomorrow.”
Our realization, which goes hand in hand with “Bienvenue en Martinique” is “on doit attendre. Et attendre, et attendre et attendre et attendre et…” which is to say “you have to wait and wait and wait…” Basically, we’re running into the delicate intricacies of French Bureaucracy with an island attitude about it. Or how about this: In order to get student bus passes, it took two days of searching for the correct office with lots of vague explanations of how to find it, and once we eventually found it, we turned in our paperwork with the explanation that “the pass will come in the mail and once it does you have to find the (mysterious) place on campus where you can pay the 25 Euro to get a coupon (receipt) which says you paid for the pass. And that makes sense… how?
But, please don’t take this as complaining. Well, it’s sort of complaining. But more, it’s an explanation of a culture intricately different from ours. Ours is not necessarily better but it is more familiar. What’s interesting about the attitude here, too, is the people who are truly Martiniquais and have a more Créole attitude just don’t get frustrated. Kristen’s host mother, Youma, constantly teases her when she furrows her brow or gets upset about things, saying “we don’t do that here. Frustration does not exist.” Granted, it’s not the same with my host but that’s a whole different story I won’t go into just yet.
But, I also want to assure you that despite the ups and downs and frustrations and homesickness, I’m having a really good time. I’ve been to two classes so far and both were awesome. I decided to take some English classes while I’m here to continue with my studies and ended up taking a class on “Anglo-Caribbean literature” with a professor who specializes on Jamaica Kincaid and Caribbean women’s literature. We will be reading Jamaica Kincaid’s The Autobiography of my Mother and studying it through the lens of colonial and post-colonial theory which I studied in depth last semester. The other class is on French literature in the twentieth century. In that class, we will be studying Albert Camus’ l’Etranger, a personal favorite author who I have also studied in depth (in English) and we will be using literary theory in that class as well. As an English major, I love literary theory. As a dork, I love literary theory.
I have also been to the beach twice and boy was it glorious! The water is warm and welcoming, if a little too salty for my eyes and the waves gentle and calm. Kristen and I went on a quest for beach glass the other day and played like kids in the sand. We also threw my Frisbee around so I won’t be too rusty when I get back.
So, a little about my friend Kristen who has been my savior for the past week and a half. She goes to the University of Iowa and studies Spanish and French with the intention of studying comparative literature in grad school. She, like me, likes to hike and do yoga and backpack and be outside and run and bike AND she’s a vegetarian. Furthermore, we’re both here to speak French and really learn about a different culture thus, unlike many of the other exchange students, we speak almost exclusively in French even when it’s just the two of us. How else are we going to learn? But, we also know that there are moments, such as when everything seems to be building up and the tears start flowing where English is needed. It’s a great equilibrium. Her host family is really awesome and we’ve learned some creole words and recipes from them. As classes start and we settle into them, I’m hoping more of my time will be occupied with schoolwork so I won’t feel so bored at times but it’ll also be super nice to have weekends to relax and hike and go to the beach.
I’ll continue to update and hopefully won’t be writing novels like this one but no promises…
All my love from Martinique,
Bethany
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