And in today's report
from the garden, Isabel notes that the swarmy bees are back in the date palm.
I haven't fully described
the Villa Anoli, which is the name of our house. It is a sort of inverse
Creole design. In Creole houses, which you see a lot of here, some new,
some old and rickety, they are mostly one-story, with all the rooms opening on
one long veranda. It is a way to catch the breeze, and the veranda is a
very social space where you can sit and watch the world go by or interact with
it, as you wish. More about that talk-y culture, if you want to have it,
it is good to have a veranda to sit on.
Here, as noted, the house
is L-shaped, and you enter on the backside, but then all the rooms open on to a
long terrasse that surrounds a small infinity pool. The short end of the
L has two bedrooms, where Izzy and Peter have set up camp, and the long end has
a living-dining-kitchen area and then our room. There is also a hot tub
under a gazebo, and a giant destroyed bottom of a palm tree that is now
artfully planted with ferns and orchids and is really quite attractive.
There are also pots and plants everywhere, and the most elaborate
watering system ever, and of course a jardinière shows up once in a while to
take care of it all. Bonjour![1]
You have to be sure to
lock all the doors when you go out and most importantly you have to lower the
three rouleaux a.k.a rolladen, which are those metal shades that you see
everywhere and in Europe. They are effective against hurricanes, and good
for security. But mostly they make you feel like you are opening up the
Bat Cave when you push the buttons and make all three open at once. If
one is inside, one wants to pose like a Villain as they open, and say to the
others as you are revealed: "Hello,
Mr. Bond, I’ve been expecting you."
Beyond the pool and the
greenery filled with hummingbirds, and a few roofs, there is the sea. It
is quite a view. Basically we spend all our time sitting on this
terrasse, watching the sea, and the sunset, and the birds. It is really
quite marvelous. My colleagues keep responding to my emails saying
"you are on vacation!" To which I respond, yes, but if you
could see where I am sitting, you would realize that doing a little work is not
such a burden when you are gazing out at the Caribbean.
Birds fly in and out of
the house all the time. There is a big mirror on the back wall, and some
of them mistake it for the sea, fly right up to it, turn around and fly back
out. Mostly they are looking for crumbs, though.
The house has all the
comforts you could want, a well-stocked kitchen, laundry, etc. But be warned: French washing machines taunt you in
Python-esque fashion. Just when you think it is finally done and you can
unload your laundry and hang it on the line to dry and get on with your day,
the machine starts spinning again. It practically farts in your general
direction.
Parking is a funny
business here. People just shove their little cars into any old spot that
is off the road, but you have to be careful because sometimes what passes for a
shoulder may contain a very deep drainage ditch. Actually, you see these
deep drainages everywhere, and they are getting no use now but we understand
that they may do their job in a few months during the rainy season.
The Jardin Botanique promises
you that their nature will surprise you!
And it is indeed a lovely, lush garden filled with tropical plants not
just from here, but from other similar climates like southeast Asia and South
America. There are heliconia galore, and orchids and bouganvillea and
hibiscus and all kinds of beautiful flowering plants, the names of which we
know not. There are very big trees, including a giant banyan,
appropriately called Le Grand Banyan, right at the center of the property.
There is a cascade, or waterfall that runs from under the pretty
restaurant down through the property, and you get to walk back and forth over
it several times. There is an enclosed cage that you can go in to meet a
bunch of very colorful lorikeets, whom you can feed if you put 50 cents in the
little machine and get a teeny cup of nectar.
There is also the Village
des Perroquets, where several giant colorful macaws live in the open, each with
his or their (some are couples) own perch and house. Only the
red-and-blue pair, Tchoco and Coco or something like that, have an enclosed
cage - maybe their wings aren't clipped? But they hop about obligingly
for the camera. The yellow-and-blue birds don't need enclosed cages, and
are a bit calmer. Roger, who apparently will do something – respond? –
when you say, Roger, ca va? to him, sits there disdainfully preening himself
while all of us stand around commes des idiots saying Roger, ca va? over and
over. Life here may be better than the Amazon, of course. There is a steady supply of mango and who
knows what else. But if you are a handsome macaw, you have to put up with
a lot.
From the viewpoint at the
end of the tour there is a magnificent vista out over the sea, and you can just
see Montserrat in the distance.
Have I mentioned that
there are mango trees everywhere? Isabel
is in mango-heaven.
At the very end of your
walk through the Jardin, you come to the Tunnel du Rafraichissement. This is basically a fenced over bit of the
path, onto which cool mists spray. By
now you are indeed pretty hot, and so the mist is indeed rafraichissement. We think this is an excellent innovation, and
there should be more of them in the world.
When you drive around at
night, you hear various bug noises (and roosters) but when you pass the Jardin
Botanique, the volume goes to 11 with all the peeper frogs that live
there. It is so distinct – once you have
passed, it quiets down – that we suspect they may play a recording of “tropical
night sounds” to enhance the effect.[2]
After a frustrating
interval of sticking every credit and debit card we own into the Credit
Agricole ATM, only to have it spit them out every time, we find La Banque
Postale to be much more forthcoming with cashola, and we are back in business.
Today we head to Anse a la Perle, as we hear that some scenes from Death
in Paradise were filmed here. They were! We find the house that Poole
and his successor live in, carefully fenced off and locked up, surely awaiting
the filming of season five. But not only that, Anse a la Perle is une
plage tres tres jolie, gold sand, blue water, lined with palm and sea-grape
trees, just long enough for a walk end to end. I think it is just about
perfect.
Back to Le Coin des
Pecheurs tonight, where Peter continues his exploration of creole cuisine with
porc colombo. A colombo is a stew of anything, but usually chicken or
pork or goat, that is a very mild curry and always has turmeric in it. It
smells divine, and tastes pretty great too.
We also sample some boudin, which comes in two kinds: regular
(blood) and des pecheurs (fish). The former is very rich, which means it
is countered well by a ti-punch, and the latter is just very savory and delicious.
Pierre has bananes flambées for dessert, which mysteriously comes with a
little piece of watermelon floating in the sauce, also flambée'd, of course.
[1] You have to say bonjour and au
revoir and merci to everyone, everywhere, in stores or on the street or at
restaurants. People are very polite, and
it is expected. Of course it makes us
feel delightfully not-in-Kansas-anymore.
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