change of plans, interesting man.

Sometimes plans change without warning, and you're left to make up something new. However bummed I was at this morning's change of plans, keeping me from the sunny seas, I decided to take a little time to myself and finally, almost one year later, check out the Fort Fleur d'epée in Grande-Terre. The sign, in English, said it would open at 9, so I had a half hour to wait. I enjoyed the view from outside the fort for a moment and went to wait in the shade. There was a man walking with his dog and I said bonjour, which was met with a smile, a bonjour, and "you're learning French..." From there we started a conversation that would last half of an hour. He did most of the talking, which is fine with me. I am generally about three sentences behind in any given French language conversation. This means when it's my turn to respond, I stare blankly, then fidget with my hands, raise and lower my eyebrows, offer a stupid smile, make some filler noise ala 'uhhhh'... while I try to somehow create the words I need. Pretty hilarious to see someone who talks with their hands when they know the language to try and speak a new language.
I got to learn quite a bit during this small chat. Christian is an ex police officer, and has gone to Boston before to work with police units there on various things. He finds the people in Boston to be extremely easy to work with, but difficult to get to know personally. I offered the idea that while people in the northeast can be perceived this way, once you get past the seemingly tough exterior, you'll find very straightforward people, down to earth. He agreed.
He told me some stories of his family, going back centuries...while I still miss some precise details in French, I got most of it. Christian has a cousin in a small town in France, and his family came from there long ago. When they came to Guadeloupe he believes they were not entirely welcome, but they made their living having started with nothing. I think his father was a police officer also. His son is 37. Christian told me that Davy Crocket has French ancestry, which I did not know. He told me the story of Boudin sourdough bakery in San Francisco, which I partly knew, but it was nice to hear the stories from his perspective, to hear of the French guys who came to America during the gold rush and began making bread using the unique wild yeast they discovered.
Christian told me my accent was 'charmant', which makes me happy because it's progress from people saying that the few words I knew were pronounced well. If I have an accent, I must be speaking, right? Woohoo! He told me that he walks each day there, if I wanted to walk with him and his dog and speak French and hear stories. How nice. He's my father's age I imagine. It was such an interesting conversation. The older I get, the more I realize the people ahead of me in age know some interesting stuff.
The fort had not opened at 9:35, so I decided to leave. Pity really, because in addition to the cool rooms of the fort, there is also an art exhibition there right now. I'll head back soon enough. All in all, the change in plans ended up in an interesting meeting. I love when that happens.

Good Morning, Gwada!

After reading The Omnivore's Dilemma and ranting and raving about food, I've been making an effort to buy locally grown food, both plant and animal. One of my favorite things about this area is the fruit. It's incredible. The colors scents and tastes leave me thinking how incredible it is that this stuff just grows. I admit it, it makes me very very happy on some kind of deeper, basic level, to go buy from the local merchant, pick from trees, and go home and make juice with what I've collected. The drawbacks? Well the fruit-flies for one, damn they arrive fast and with all their friends. There's the fact that my blender, however fabulous it is, will someday, at the end of it's life cycle, end up in some landfill someplace. Bummer.
Meantime, take a look at this morning's creation:





Mango, papaya, orange and lime, with some natural yogurt. MMMMMMMMMM-mmmmm!!!!!! Look at that color! You can almost taste it, can't you? And yes, I really do put the lime garnish on the side just for me. All those years of waiting tables paid off in the form of my being able to serve myself a beverage that is not only delicious but also attractive. Mom and Dad are so proud.

We're going with Hannukmas.

Ah the 'blended' family. What does that mean exactly? A blend of what? I guess it can be anything people normally would prefer to keep in a convenient box: race, religion, birth / adoption / step relatives/nationality. (What am I now, Guadamerican?) To me, blood does not a family make. I mean, sure, literally it does, but it's not the neccessary ingredient for a complete and happy family. The Pirate and Les Monstres had to rework their definition of family when the family changed, and then once again when I came into the picture after The Pirate kidnapped me and forced me to live this difficult life on this beautiful island.

In this family of ours, we aren't very pious. Neither one of us, me or The Pirate, was very pious coming into this, but we do each have some cultural habits that we enjoy. For me, the Christmas Tree is new, and in fact celebrating Christmas with family at all is new. For The Pirate and Les Monstres, Hanukkah is entirely foreign. And so we arrive at the first year of co-holiday celebration, and we've opted to dub it lovingly 'Hanukmas'. Why not Christmakkah? Well because: The Pirate cares not about the birth of Christ. It holds no significance for him or his family. Therefor, we left that part of the word out. It's more 'us'. Plus it involves the word 'mas' by accident which means 'more' in Spanish, and somehow that's significant - we've both got mas of lots these days: mas holidays, mas kids (for me), and in general mas happiness.

I do have to watch myself carefully since I tend to forget that Les Monstres believe in Pere Noel, or Santa Claus. They're under eight years old, so it's par for the course. Growing up in a Jewish home, well, what can I say - I just never thought that guy was real. We just didn't grow up with the stories in the same way as the Christmas kids. I have pretty clear memories of hearing the other kids at school around Christmas talking about Santa, and thinking I knew something they didn't know, and wondering when they would figure it out. It's not meant to be offensive, it's simply my reality.

I slipped once in front of Les Monstres by saying something like, "Oh yeah, who gave you that Playmobil truck last year, dad or was it grandma?" I was met with an incredulous look from The Pirate followed by a slowly spoken, "You mean Pere Noel, riiiiiiiiggghhhhtttt?" Petit Monstre gazed at my facial expression as it went from 'what the ...?' to 'ooooh riiiiiightt', to 'crap, sorry dude'. In the words of Homer Simpson, D'oh!!!!!
Oooooops. My bad. It's difficult to remember something imaginary that you didn't know before, but I'm working on it.

....
p.s. I don't know who that lady is up there in the picture, but it was the best real life sample of Hannukah and Christmas together I could find. Related story and credits here.