from one to the other

8 November 2009 half past eleven- or as the Brits say, half eleven. (AM)

Dear life,
This place bothers me un peu, tu vois? For example, there are these two puppies. One of them fell and broke its femur in multiple places and is, as a consequence, really sweet. The other one is getting huge and more annoying than ever. It jumps and bites my ankles and eats the cat food and is underfoot all the time. Then, there’s the kitten who is also underfoot and when I wake up in the morning, it jumps into my room and it eats my computer cord and peed in the cupboard under the sink and man. Man.

But, the one thing that really bothers me is going to the grocery store. It appears as though I left one of my bags at the store and since Joby left with the car, I don’t really know what to do about it. I hate losing things. Like my Kleen Kanteen. Still mourning the loss of that guy. But, back to the grocery store. It’s always really crowded and full of aisles and aisles of prepackaged, processed food which has been shipped from across the world. American cereal on the shelves, carrots, grapes, plums, pears, nectarines from France, and all the fish from who knows where- Asia, maybe? I am in the middle of the Caribbean and the fish at the grocery store is from the stinking Pacific Ocean. That’s not right. I don’t like buying avocados from Mexico when I’m in Oregon, I think it’s probably clear how I feel about buying food from France and Spain when I’m oceans and seas and lands and time zones away. But the absolute pire, the worst, is the plastic bags. The cashiers put about two things in each bag. And totally get offended when I try to bag things myself. Because, clearly it means I think I can do their job better than them…

9:15 (PM)

Alright, so I can always find things to complain about (the grocery store, for example) but I had an awesome day. I had a really great chat with Youma until Jobi came home around 1:30. He had been performing in Francois for a hot second and then had a family reunion planned with all of the siblings who live in Martinique… about 6 of 9. We got all our stuff together and headed to his brother’s house in Carbet, where I met his family. Big families are great. We had a great lunch together, of potatoes and fish (which I ate some of and it was pretty good minus the skin and bones and tail still there… cooking whole fish freaks me out) and red wine and fresh made juice (prune de Cynthère, which I can’t begin to explain) and then Youma, the sister-in-law who cooked lunch, and the best friend of the youngest and I took the car and went to the beach while they all discussed money and potential death. It was glorious. We just laughed and relaxed and got along swimmingly and my comprehension is an infinite million times better than it was before. SERIOUSLY. The water was a little chilly (I know, I know) but fresh and we had a spectacular view of Mount Pelée. For a late afternoon snack, we had some chocolate with peanuts in it. Typical French. Love it.

It was so nice passing a day relaxing, not worrying about the gigantic final files I have due. My head was super distracted and I wasn’t even able to concentrate on anything and I was organizing my room and washing my hands and brushing my teeth and, you know, going crazy. So I wasn’t getting anything done anyway. But I have spent most of today talking to Youma and she’s helped me a lot thinking through all the weight on my shoulders. The most important thing I can say is that “je suis un cocotier.” Which is to say, I am a coconut tree. Tall, magnificent, strong, I have my coconuts (my goals and dreams) and my leaves which are freely dancing in the breezes blowing my way. Youma is great. She cracks me up all the time and is understanding and caring. I am unbelievably fortunate to have been able to move here from my initial residence. Seriously.

Well, about that presentation I am doing Tuesday on Post-Colonial theory in Jamaica Kincaid’s The Autobiography of my Mother…