15 October 2009 21:10
The average day in the life of person in Martinique, as I have come to understand, involves the minimal amount of work. As someone who was already good at procrastinating, the general sort of work ethic here is doing some sweet damage to my ability to concentrate. All I really want to do is sit around and read my book. I don’t have much desire to write a (what I consider to be) cheesy 5 paragraph essay on the Habitation/Plantation as shown in L’esclave vieil homme et le molosse par Patrick Chamoiseau. Or in English, the old man slave and the large dog. I don’t know if we have a word in English for a big dog… I like the name better in French.
The French style of writing is tedious. Maybe I’m too closed minded but I learned how to write a 5 paragraph essay in the tenth grade as a model and have become accustomed to writing 3-12 page papers with freedom in form. Here, writing dissertations or commentaires is a strict, scientific form from which I cannot stray. Very un-American, I say. I’m about ready to boycott. If I can’t have freedom in my essay writing, I want freedom in my fries. And to drink, Peru. But, it’s interesting to learn about a different system and more interesting to apply the idea of how students are taught to write to how students are taught to live and be. Martinique is at once so laid back, un-organized, lackadaisical and on its own schedule. Most professors show up late and sometimes not at all. Yet, you are expected to always be there, prepared. You are expected to be patient even though no one is patient with you.
It’s nearly impossible to finish a sentence here- someone is always there to interrupt and finish it for you even though they have no idea what you are actually talking about. It’s very annoying.
Culture shows itself in many ways, its many faces. In terms of saying hello and having a specifically polite form of you (vous), the French are certainly more polite than Americans. Yet, it’s more of a cold, distant sort of politeness. I feel like as Americans, part of our informality lays in politeness. Things like saying “bless you” don’t happen here. Merci is said ambivalently and bonjour/bonsoir automatically without any feeling. Employees at stores don’t want to help you and certainly don’t offer to. At a shoe store, I felt badly for asking if they had my size because the employee seemed so impatient about it. I’ve been told a number of times, the Martiniquais don’t like to work. I guess it’s just that. But there are definitely people who smile back at me without suspicion or coldness, and sometimes even without devouring me with their eyes! That one’s always exciting. My marchand who always gives me lots of free fruits and veggies is legitimately friendly and knows everyone in the neighborhood. He’s always happy when I stop by to say hi. He pulls up a chair and we sit among the tables of oranges and tomatoes and cucumbers and avocados (so many avocados) and we talk about Obama and healthcare reform and the good old days and he asks me at least 4 times if I’m doing well and I talk about the US and he talks about his daughter and wife and Martinique. And then I walk away with a fat bag of food. Not a bad deal. Plus, he has hair growing out of his ears which is at once gross and hilarious.
Apparently strikes continue which means that packages and letters aren’t being delivered. I wonder, sometimes, if people strike because there is something legitimately wrong or if its because they just don’t want to work. Down here, mostly. I just want my stinking packages. Geez.
Today, for the first time, I was sitting in class and I legitimately didn’t want to be there. I didn’t want to be here at all. This hasn’t happened before and it was a strange feeling which took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting the sentiment, for sure. It is most certainly not a waste of time but sometimes it feels like it and every once in a while it feels like a big waste of money… But money isn’t everything. It’s just expensive. But, the idea was mostly lifted after my head when a friend from Willamette asked me what exciting things I had done here. Emily also asked me for an island adventure story. What to come up with?
-Hiking Mt. Pelée
-Scuba diving
-some of my classes are really awesome and interesting and I actually enjoy going to them
-African/Traditional dance. Thank you, France, for having a good public works program. I paid 45 Euro for a years inscription to take traditional dance. We go twice a week but could go more. Today the teacher was in a terrible mood and was beating us up. African Dance is extremely physically strenuous and for a class of beginners, she was demanding way too much.
-The other day I fell over while walking. I have no idea how it happened but I was walking with Florence’s son, Lucas, who is 8, and all of a sudden I was on the ground. While hiking Pelée I fell multiple times, too. Super clumsy. Some of my friends in the English program refer to me as the little girl from Little House on the Prairie who apparently falls over in the opening credits? I know nothing about this, but the idea strikes me as hilarious. The other day I fell while walking up the stairs.

Some of the highlights of my daily life include getting letters from my friends, not having to wait half an hour for the bus, days that aren’t a million degrees and I can walk home without sweat dripping down my back, watching kittens play on the balcony as I eat breakfast and hummingbirds feed from flowers (I see one every morning, almost!), eating delicious food, showering (seriously. It’s soooooooo hot here), greenness and colorful beautiful flowers, drinking coffee, and killing mosquitoes.

Yeah, life is pretty alright. Could be better, could be worse but it is what it is.

October 16, 2009

Correction to previous sentiments: I am such a negative nancy. Life is good. seriously. Dur, but good. Dur meaning hard/difficult (at times).