REVISITING CASTRIES

With many stops it takes a 15 minutes ride from Rodney Bay to Castries. The mini bus-van is always packed with adults, school kids ans sometimes a chicken or two. The atmosphere is upbeat. You always get a response to your greet, you might hear it in spite of the loud music.

The bus ride is an introduction to Castries, as if life on the bus spilled on to the streets. Is there anybody left at home or in the office? The streets are so packed with people, you have to weave your way through the crowds. Side walks are filled with the street vendors, from them you can buy anything from sandals to fruits, but mostly little snacks and hair decorations. St. Lucian women and girls take special care of their hair. If they don't wear their wigs, and many do, they braid and decorate their hair with bright and shiny decorations. Some colour their hair red, an old African tradition, using canna blossoms. Little school girls are beautiful in their yellow and white uniforms and matching beads in their braids.

We walked into the harbour, where four cruise ships were docked, the fifth was anchored close to the harbour entrance. And yet, markets with colourful clothing, carved statues and beautifully weaved baskets were poorly visited by tourists. There are to many markets on the islands, where cruise ships stop.
We found some of the things we were looking for, had lunch in one of the harbour restaurants and had another exciting ride on a speedy public mini bus going back to 'NADA'

Note the cruise ship at the end of the street

Calabash tree

SUN RAYS THROUGH THE CLOUDS

The clouds have turned from grey to white, the late afternoon sun coloring them deep pink.
We are anchored in Rodney Bay again after a comfortable sail from Martinique in a 15 knots wind.
The ARC (Atlantic Rally for Cruisers) boats are coming in, four or five a day, looking majestic with all their sails up until the finish line.
It was calm and rainy for days, we welcomed the wind, that pushed the clouds elsewhere. The life on the beach woke up again, umbrellas adding the colour to lashes green trees and bushes, that in the rainy season reached almost all the way to the water.
Most of our sailing friends have left to sail north, avoiding ARC crowd of over 200 boats. Some went home for the holidays. 'NADA' is waiting for the new batteries, that should arrive this week. Then we'll be heading south.

Le Marin beauty

The advantage of the autopilot

Tired

We have a visitor

Drying a spinnaker at the dock 

                                       

LE MARIN

We are anchored in a bay carved by the sea deep into the south end of Martinique. The town that hugs the bay in rightfully named Le Marin, The Sailor. You don’t see as many sailboats anywhere else. The town has everything that sailors need, marine stores, sail making lofts, charter companies. Vegetable, fruit and spice market is close enough to have a view of the marina, while supermarket has a convenient dock into the anchorage.


We have been here five days and it has rained on and off, today the raindrops have been knocking on the boat continuously from early morning.

Years ago I was grieving over something unimportant, my friend Jane Ripley comforted me by saying: Everything that happens to us, has something good in it.

In the last five days we filled up our water tanks.




The appartment building, overlooking the bay

The town cemetery



Shoppers gather fruits, vegetables and spices in the weaved baskets



Kids having fun





Ready to go



On a road again



PEOPLE WATCHER

Unlike Rodney Bay in St. Lucia, we don’t have the Internet connection on Le Marin anchorage. Yesterday we took a dinghy ride to the ‘Mango Bay’ café for the Internet, beer and cappuccino. It was almost lunch time, the place was busy. While Polde was working on the keyboard, I was watching people.


A party of six came in, three men and three women, matured, not old. Two men well trimmed, the third heavy set, barely squeezed his belly between the chair’s backrest and the table. It was hot and humid; after all, we are in the tropics. The two slim men took their shirts off. No, Nooo! Where is the sign: NO SHIRT, NO FOOD! I thought it was supposed to be the other way around. You come in, you put your shirt on, you leave, you take it off, and get a sun burn.

Anyway, I looked away, and then I couldn’t help myself, holding on to my cup, I took a deep breath, my eyes went back to the naked table. The third shirt stayed on, I let my air out.

When the party left the table, men (I cannot use the word gentlemen, can I?) put their shirts back on.

Mango Bay cafe