Pieces of France in the Caribbean

Our tour of the Lesser Antilles ends with the French islands of Guadeloupe and Martinique. Unlike the former British colonies, France has maintained control of it former colonies. Martinique and Guadeloupe are French Overseas Departments; they are part of France – and the EU.

Roads, hospitals and other infrastructure are better, thanks to French and EU money. To the eyes of sojourners like us the islands are the best of French and Caribbean culture. However, we saw constant reminders that only weeks before our visit there had been violent protests against the French government. Resentment at the history of colonialism and slavery simmers just below the surface.

Martinique

Martinique has a European vibe. The capital, Fort-de-France, has pleasant shaded squares; patisseries and boulangeries radiating the smell of fresh baking; cafes with strong French coffee; grand French colonial buildings. The waterfront promenade has been spruced up to impress the cruise-ship passengers.

We stayed in a “penthouse” apartment a few blocks back from the waterfront. Ours was not a neighbourhood most tourists stay. The orderly and grand French streets have become less orderly and grand over time. Our penthouse was on the fifth floor (no elevator) of a restored colonial building next to the cathedral. Six a.m. every day the bells rang out for four straight minutes, reverberating through our walls. Our rooftop terrace had great views but there were a few quirks. It had two hot tubs. Why two? The steep winding, staircase was topped by a sliding piece of plywood that didn’t fully close. Mosquitos (and who knows what else) had free entry. Weeks later Maria still bears the scars of nocturnal mosquito bites.

The French Riviera

Martinique is to the French what Barbados is to the British. A steady stream of charter flights from France land every evening delivering French holidaymakers anxious to soak up the sun. They gravitate to Pointe du Bout, a 20-minute ferry ride across the bay from downtown. The marina could have been plucked off the French Riviera. It is lined with sidewalk cafes and restaurants; there are chic shops selling French beachwear. Baking bodies line the nearby beaches.

We needed exercise so instead of laying on the beach we walked (an hour each way in 30 degree heat) to the nearby quiet local village of Les Trois-Îlets. For the remainder of our stay we used the cheap, clean and efficient public buses, or rented a car, to tour the island. The south coast is lined with miles of white sand beaches. The north is dominated by Mount Pelée, an active volcano. It last erupted in 1902, destroying the town of Saint Pierre.

Ti-Punch

Finally, we can’t leave Martinique without mentioning its famous rum. They have their own French AOC; the national drink is Ti-Punch, a cocktail of lime, sugar and rum. We sampled one or two along the way! Try it:

Squeeze a lime wedge into a glass. Add an ounce or two of rum, preferably a rhum agricole from Martinique. (They traditionally use young white rum. We prefer the aged, mellower Rhum Vieux). Stir in a small spoon of sugar. Stir until dissolved. Drink.

Guadeloupe

Our final stop in the Lesser Antilles was Guadeloupe. The two largest islands, Basse-Terre and Grande-Terre, are separated only by the narrow Rivière Salée.

A Sad City

We found what we thought was a terrific, inexpensive apartment in the centre of Pointe-à-Pitre, the main city on Grande-Terre. We failed to realize that downtown Pointe-à-Pitre is in a state of advanced decay. Efforts to revitalize it have not kept up with the inevitable effects of the tropical climate coupled with the looting and burning that accompanies the periodic anti-French protests. Many colourful murals brighten the otherwise derelict buildings in an effort to beautify the city.

The famous Spice Market was full of vendors hustling the usual tourist trinkets to cruise-ship passengers. Both the museums were closed – one seemingly for decades. The flower market consisted of one woman with a few bunches of flowers. The fish market was nothing more than a motley collection of tables with hardly any fish. All-in-all a sad, but eye-opening experience.

Our Roughest Sea Crossing Ever

Luckily for us, our ‘dream’ apartment was only available for two nights. We packed up and took the ferry to the nearby island of Marie-Galant. The 32-km, 45 minute ride was the roughest we’ve ever taken. Winds were gusting up to 55 kmh; the open seas where Atlantic meets Caribbean were churning. As soon as we boarded, the crew distributed puke bags. They spent the crossing patrolling the passenger deck with mops, bottles of bleach and rolls of spare puke bags. Luckily we didn’t need to make use of the bags, but many passengers did. Maria needed her earplugs to block out the sound.

Once we made it to Marie-Galant we were amazed by the contrast to Pointe-à-Pitre. Grand Bourg, the main town, has some well-maintained historic buildings; a nice farmers’ market; the streets are clean; people are friendly.

We rented a car, but barely burned any gas. The island is only about 160 square km. Roads, thanks to French and EU funding, are in great shape. We drove the circumference, including lots of stops and lunch, in a few hours. The island is dotted with ruins of former rum plantations (“habitations” as they call them). Even today there are sprawling sugarcane fields to supply the few remaining distilleries. We made it to the most famous, Habitation Bellevue, two minutes after the tasting room closed. We missed our chance for a tour and tasting. (George made up for the tasting part later.)

Back to Grande-Terre

Back on Grande-Terre we’d learned our lesson. We booked an apartment in the suburb of Le Gosier. French tourists flock to Le Gosier’s beaches. The area is busy, but more relaxing than being downtown. The best part was the panoramic view from our apartment’s terrace.

We rented a car, expecting to be able to tour all of both Grande-Terre and Basse-Terre. We failed to account for the ghastly traffic. Everywhere we went on Grande-Terre, we were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. We were only able to visit the lower half of each island. Grande-Terre’s south shore has miles of crowded beaches. Inland it is rolling farmland, mainly sugar and banana plantations.

Basse-Terre, does not attract as many tourists. It is under the constant clouds of an active volcano, La Soufriere. The island is rugged and mountainous, much of it reserved as a National Park. The park is known for its waterfalls and hiking trails but the heat and steep terrain deterred us.

Were we unfair?

Those of you have have read our last few posts may have noticed that we struggled to find good things to say about the Lesser Antilles’ cities. In case you think we were unnecessarily harsh, we are not alone in our assessment.

In the 1940s, acclaimed travel writer Patrick Leigh Fermor followed much the same route we did. His assessment was more damning than ours. He described the cities as “tram-haunted nuclei of shops, warehouses and nondescript public buildings flung up in the worst period of European architecture, with a periphery of garden suburbs for the rich and an inferno of slums for the poor”. (He heaped special scorn on Pointe-à-Pitre.)

He did, though, provide a sympathetic (at least for his time) explanation:

“Towns in the Antilles do not have much of a chance. Their purpose, when they were built, was to serve as a warehouse, a market for slaves and a barracks for soldiers; a harbour for incoming slave-ships and for outgoing cargoes of sugar and rum. Government buildings, comfortable houses, the trees and fine streets came as an afterthought. They were always at the mercy of hurricanes, fires, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, and of invasion and sack by their neighbours.” – The Traveller’s Tree, Patrick Leigh Fermor, 1950.