In the morning, I ended up checking out a photography exhibit at a cultural center in Pointe- a- Pitre. (Not the one I usually frequent-- this one is much closer to the city center.) The exhibit ended up being much smaller than anticipated, so it didn't take long to tour at all. I found the subject interesting. I'm living in a town just outside of Pointe- a- Pitre called "les Abymes". This area, and my neighborhood in particular, are currently being completely redone. Buildings, roads, and houses are all being redone. (I'm not quite sure why-- but many of the houses do look older compared to the other cities I've visited here). This exhibit attempts to capture the area before, during, and after the renovation. I enjoyed the photos and discovered that the photographer who designed the temporary exhibit at Memorial ACTe actually took many of these photos! Funny stuff.
After a quick visit there, I popped into a bookstore to look for a magazine for Wednesday's flight. The local section quickly caught my attention and I quickly became engrossed in the fiction books by local authors. I've read works by many of these authors before, and know the works of many others, so it felt a bit like coming home-- very familiar and comforting. I have always loved books and reading. In elementary school, I sometimes refused to work in groups because I knew I worked faster alone. This afforded me more time to read before the class moved on to the next activities. (I have distinct memories of people asking me to work with them and me basically telling them "no, you're too slow and I want to read". I phrased it more gently, of course, but you get the jist.)
Dilemma: I wanted all of these books. (Another classic me moment-- I never came out of the library or a bookstore with less than an armful of books). Okay, but I had come in for a magazine. So I reluctantly headed over to the magazine section to examine the offerings. French Cosmo offered me tips to look good in a picture on the beach. (My tip-- take a picture while you are on the beach. If you think "ugh", take another one). I realized I did not have time for this kind of drivel when Maryse Conde could offer me the tale of her grandmother's days as a cook and Gisele Pineau discussed the self- imposed exile of islanders moving abroad. These are the important issues people! Plus, I've already read about 3,000 articles about what bathing suit is best for my body type. (Pro tip: they all look pretty much the same). I hustled back over the local section, and started to make my selection. Patrick Chamoiseau made a strong run with a story about a modern day girl who finds herself on the ruins of a sugar plantation-- a story that mixes the past and the present? I am in, baby.
The moment of truth: which one to pick? After standing in the store for so long, I was convinced the shop owner would think I was shoplifting if I didn't decide soon. I narrowed it down to Pineau and Chamoiseau (sorry, Maryse-- you know I loved Moi, Tituba, Sorciere and la Femme Cannibale, but I feel like branching out today. Don't worry-- I'm going to track this down at my school library in the fall. We'll be together soon-- it's not you, it's me). Two choices remained. What if I bought both books? No. The thought seemed so gluttenous, I tried to forget it completely. But it kept sneaking back, saying dirty things like "this is your vacation", "you still have some grant money left over, and these books could be used in your paper", "if you really want two, you should buy two. Stop being ridiculous". I played my favorite game of "if mom were here, what would she say?". First off, she would be very confused by my love of these authors and concerned that I was conversing with books. Second off, she would say, "buy the damn books!". (Because, realistically, the beach should not be left waiting. Priorities!) So, before I could think twice, I took both books into my arms, and rushed to the register.
I purchased both of those books. I do not regret it. In fact, just writing about them now makes me smile. I fought the urge to skip towards my car, where I drove home and then hit the beach. (I did not bring the books with me-- I am currently reading le Deuxieme Sexe, which I adore, but mostly could not risk exposing these treasures to the elements!).
I spent a wonderful afternoon at the beach, basking in the sun, sleeping, and eavesdropping on French speaking families all around me. (Someone's friend just had a baby!)
Just goes to show you that even days with ominous beginnings can end on a very high note. (I also bought my favorite brand of cookies at the store, so tomorrow will probably be a massive letdown.)
I also bear great news: if you thought ice cream trucks only existed in the good ol' US of A for us "fat Americans" who need ice cream brought directly to our doorstep, think again. Even in the French territories, these marvels exist.
Some photographic proof:
So friends, that's all from me. Tomorrow is my last full day in Guadeloupe! (Tomorrow's blog post will probably be long and sentimental-- this is your warning). My plan: take a guided tour of a museum in the morning, then beach it up in the afternoon. (Crepes may or may not feature into the day-- trying to find the hours of the place I'd like to go!) Should be a good last day :)
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