Happy Birthday! Today has nothing to do with you!

Sunday 11 October 2009 9:45 pm

Well, I told myself I’d be better at writing so here’s a try. I’m absolutely exhausted right now in a great way and a not so great way. Kristen is upstairs having a talk with Youma about some of the problems we’ve run into this weekend (many of which circulate around our “familial” sort of situation). Some things are going a lot better: for example, we are allowed to use the laundry machine on our own with tepid water, the right amount of soap and no fabric softener (for those of us (me) with sensitive skin). That’s nice. Plus, the kitchen is as close to clean as it gets right now which is always enjoyable. On to the weekend:
Saturday morning Kristen and I did our “courses” (grocery shopping) at the market and then grocery store. We also hit up a pharmacy/natural goods shop where I spent an obscene amount of money on cashews (12 Euros for 500 g of organic raw cashews isn’t too much, right?), bought lozenges for my throat and also some sort of talcum powder for my sweet heat rash. Youma checked it out and assessed it as “les bourbouilles,” something infants have when it’s too hot out. Baby skin, geez. We left at around 8:30 and got home a little after 11:30 to Youma and Jobi telling us “change of plans, we’re already an hour late.” For what? Well, a friend called and invited them over to go to Fond St Dennis and a rivière. The “birthday surprise” had been going to the south for a picnic on the beach. Going to a river? Sounds super great… until Martinique sneaks up, punches you in the face and says “bienvenue!”
One of the problems was the suddenness of the whole situation. We got home hungry, hot and tired to being rushed, Youma and Jobi in a hurry- which we thought was impossible- off to who knows where to do who knows what with who knows who. An hour away in the “compagne” (rural farm lands), the road to Fond St Dennis almost killed me. Drivers in Martinique drive very fast and take curves less than sweetly slamming on the brakes and then maximizing acceleration for the 100m of straightaway. So, we get to some stranger’s house, feel generally uncomfortable and the super fantastic ‘repas’ (meal) we were promised is no where to be found. Oh, but there is rice and fish soup. So, I tasted a little more fish. Still ambivalent about it. At this point, Kristen is freaking out because we have no stinking idea what is going on, where we are and when we can be comfortable again. To make it all worse, Jobi’s friend (Jean-Luc), his family, Jobi and Youma are all talking in Creole so Kristen and I can’t even participate in the conversation. We’re both aggravated, I’m sick to my stomach and all we can think about is all the studying we should be doing. And all I can think about it how this is my birthday surprise, this is the fun little celebration we had planned. Call me selfish and self centered, I won’t disagree, but it was really effing upsetting.
I thought Americans are bad about only thinking of themselves, but Martiniquais are worse, but sometimes contradictorily. You’re supposed to chill out and go with the flow if you have to wait for something (such as a kitchen, screens in the windows, a washing machine, a finalized class schedule, and other such things you’re promised weeks ago) but if someone else is waiting (or if you might potentially be late for a movie) it’s rush rush rush freakout time.
So, a few hours later, we leave the house to go to the river. We being Jobi, Jean-Luc, Kristen, Youma, Jean-Luc’s 34 month old and I. If you do the math, you will discover that is 6 people in a 5 person car. Fortunately, no one in Martinique wears seat belts, not even children apparently. Kristen (being like 5 feet tall) in seated in the middle back seat and can’t find the seat belt thing. She’s trying to dig down and saying we need to push the seat forward to find it and everyone is laughing cheerfully telling her it’s not a big deal, just relax, she doesn’t need it. So for the drive to the river (on crazy country/mountain roads) I was the only one wearing a seat belt. Did I mention the 2 year old?
But of course, on the way, we have to stop so Jean-Luc can introduce Jobi (and Jobi only) to his entire extended family- also known as the entire town. We only stopped at one house but that’s thanks to Jobi telling everyone “we’ll stop on the way back.” At this one house, however, the 4 ladies in the back were left in the car, where we were expected to stay. Youma told us it’s impolite to exit the (very hot) car because it will seem like we’re impatient. So we open the doors, but it’s still hot and did I mention the obnoxious child crawling all over us? Usually I like children (for example, my niece), but the heat/lack of seatbelt/lack of knowledge about what was going on/lack of personal space resulted in complete disinterest bordering on extreme dislike of having a child clinging to me. When we eventually got to the river, it was better. There’s a super jovial, happy, laughing old woman with not very many teeth and who I could hardly understand who lives right next to it and she let us park the car in her driveway. She was in her late 80’s but lives alone and just laughs and smiles all the time. The water was cool and refreshing (chilly for down here) and not very deep but I was happy to be in fresh water and other than the child who wanted me to hold her all the time, I was very happy. Kristen went for a run and was able to chill out. I left the group swimming, changed at the car and the jovial woman told me she had something to show me. It was a book with pictures and a brief description of all the towns in Martinique. We had some sort of a conversation which was a lot of her talking and me smiling and saying “oui?” and her saying “mais, oui” as if whatever she was telling me was evident. Again, understood very little but she was sweet and made me smile. While I waited to read, I read awhile. Youma called me lazy for reading a book in English and the kid kept trying to take my book from me. We only spent maybe an hour at the river and afterwards, we got to stop somewhere else for Jobi and Jean-Luc to say hi to someone else while we waited in the car. At this point, 2 year old is tired, sitting/standing on the floor next to me with a wet bathing suit and getting crumbs on my leg. When I removed her hand from my leg and brushed the crumbs away, Youma told me “she’s just a child” and basically to give her a break. If she’s just a child, why isn’t she wearing a seat belt? I didn’t say anything, just swallowed it (like so much discontent here) but I’m still wondering the same question.
We eventually left and got home, seven hours after we left the house, and I basically just made a rockin’ spicy stir fry and Kristen and I de-fragged and voiced our frustration to each other. We also ran laundry, made lunches and packed bags in preparation for today.
Today, Sunday, in opposition to yesterday, was pretty awesome. Kristen, two Germans Hanna and Philippe and I hiked Mt Pelée! When we got to the parking area to meet, it was cold and brisk and windy and super foggy. I was beyond happy to be cold and wore my underarmor again! Hiking was also amazing. The path started off with stairs built into the ground but eventually turned into rock and regular path. There were quite a few people in the group but not too many. It was “guided” but we were mostly left alone to hike at our own rate. Other than some mysterious knee pain ( I have a sneaking suspicion it’s left over from a nice fall I took at the farm Nate works out in August when I was classy and tripped over myself running up the two steps into the kitchen), I felt AWESOME and destroyed the uphill which involved a lot of scrambling (rock climbing term meaning running up rocks and using a lot of hands but not actually needing to rock climb or boulder) and there was plenty of flat. I feel no fewer than 3 times (because I’m clumsy) but only one of them had any consequence- a little scraped knee, no big. Other than that, a sun burnt face, and a sore knee, 7 ½ kilometers left no damage. I took tons of pictures, many of which came out well, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. We didn’t hike to the highest summit (Le Chinois) which is 1395 meters but stopped at the next highest, which was formed by the eruption of 1902. It’s weird to think I was standing on a part of a mountain which is just over 100 years old. It was cold, very very foggy and a fierce Mt. Washington style wind was blowing but I couldn’t do much other than smile.
Other than a bit of an issue getting home (Youma and Jobi weren’t home so we couldn’t get to the kitchen upstairs), it was a very successful day. I did some studying (not enough), ate a bunch of food, hiked a mountain, took a shower, did some laundry, AND Youma promised us we’ll have a kitchen by the end of the week. We can go on hoping. Hiking, being cold and hiking Pelée (finally!) was enough of a fantastic day that I can try to let go of my shitty birthday surprise… almost. I feel very hurt. Cry me a river, sure, but I was really looking forward to something fun, getting out a little bit and feeling special for a little while, instead of a face on the bus, an object to be enjoyed or a stranger to be weary of. Yes, I did just end that sentence with a preposition.
But, tomorrow commences a new week of courses, lots of studying to catch up on, African Danse, getting better at French (I’m pretty damn good at this point), continuing to try to understand and- more important at times- accept and appreciate a foreign culture, mosquito bites, tropical fruit, emotional roller coasters and sweating profusely. All in a day’s work. Plus, tomorrow, we’re (planning) to get wifi at the house! This is especially important because my laptop battery decided to die. So much for cordless, eh?

Love, Bethany

(Or as Gilberte has decided to call me, much to my irritation, MacKenzie. Youma prefers Kenzie. Yes, it’s a pretty name and easier to say than Bethany (there is no “th” sound in French) but it’s also not my name. I am Bethany. Or Bessany, Beffany, Betany, I guess. I’ll even settle for an occasional Bess. But never Beth, please)