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