L'hotel Du Wrec (6 January 2011)

I know we're in France, but even for Gill, a frog in the room is a bit much. Only a small one but a frog nonetheless, but I guess frogs do live in France, I just wish they didn't share my room.
We departed Dominica this morning which we have both loved, even with the rain. Generally the people have been lovely until we had a row (for that, read Ant threw a hissy fit in reception.....) with a rip off taxi merchant as we left for the ferry. 20 times the local rate for a cab, But the nice people are still there and we ended up thumbing a lift in the rain with another taxi who was taking a group of Estonian's back to their cruise ship. So as a bonus, we got some extra free sightseeing on the way. Most Dominicans are so nice and generous, but are spoiled by the ones who are just money grabbing, seeing every traveller in terms of the dollar sign. We understand they have to make a living and prices here are really high, but this morning was one rip off too many. Grrrr



But dismissing said rip off taxi driver did leave us stranded at the top of the valley, with suitcases in the pouring rain.....But the lift we did get restored our faith in the people so we left feeling good about them, and we gave him a great tip - karma.


A coffee at Ritual's Coffee near the ramshackle ferry port before checking in in the looky likey Starbucks but with coffee that tasted genuine and banana and chocolate muffins that would be more than happy in Abbeville Road, before we face the melee that was the departure area on the ferry for Guadeloupe. The huge Celebrity cruise liner looked so serene moored up a few hundred metres from the ferry port. This was so different, locals and a few traveller's pushing and shoving as if they were Italians, and loaded with kids, boxes, bags, fruit, baskets and other unidentifiable packages, all tied up with string, in hot, sweaty heat. Our battered bags looked in comparison as if they had just stepped off the Paris catwalks. Gill is pleased to report that at least this crossing was a little smoother than the last two, although not quite enough for her to adopt it as her preferred form of transport. But an interesting diversion on board, we discover that Ant's app of yachting charts driven by GPS worked perfectly so we followed our progress on the relevant chart and Gill was able to confirm that we were on track to get into port, miss the reefs, pass by the correct sides of the buoys and see the speed we were travelling in real time, all very reassuring.



Given we were going into the EU, we were hopeful of a more sedate arrival in Guadeloupe, but no. The Italian style pushing and shoving continued, suffice to say we are now experts and were off the boat before most. Then the wait, passport control was not open!! French probably on bloody strike. Half an hour later we eventually made it through immigration and customs before the rest....
Our ferry had transported us to a medium size French town. Like France but much less snooty people, the girl at Avis, even though we had gone to the wrong place was charm itself, as was the taxi driver, even though he had not one word of English. And a big Carrefour which is a must see sight for us in the next couple of days, we thought we had arrived at the Cite in Calais.
We hire a Ford Ka at the airport and pack ourselves and our luggage in. Ant drives to the Bates Motel, sorry the Rotabas hotel in St Anne on the south coast of Grand Terre.



We are greeted by the old retainer who surfaces from mounds of paper, this is so not a paperless reception. No chance of her finding our reservation, but no problem she could find us rooms.. Actually she could find us lots of rooms, very few other people are staying here.... never a good sign. They advertised wifi as being included, but no chance of that working, perhaps "plus tard" the old crone said, translate, no chance. By the look at the mounds of paper we're not sure any sort of recent technology has ever worked here.... The whole area of Saint Anne, sold as the best beach area in Guadeloupe looks like it has hit very hard times, with this place hit the hardest. Daylight robbery at 99 Euros a night, but the cheapest we could find.



Perhaps if they charged more reasonable prices, more people would stay, they would get more revenue, they could do it up a bit and more people would stay - just a thought... A series of beach huts but with decent locks, and on a positive note it does not smell damp! The beach is next door at Club Med, but we are not here for the beach, we want to take a look around.
So here we are in a medium sized French town, same signs, cars, road works, Carrefours, the lot. It has the beach so we are hopeful of a croisette... So not the Caribbean we would have expected. We even sit in a traffic jam, very novel. And get up to speeds exceeding 90 kmh on the motorway type road out of Pointe a Pitere, the capital.
Dinner in St Anne, on the beach at the Americano Bar, free wifi. The hotel restaurant had the ambience of the Marie Celeste, so we decided to give it a miss. But more importantly at the Americano, we got steak frites that taste like proper Euro steak frites, a gratinee with real French cheese, a coupe de champage, a cold pression and a half carafe of decent French wine. We may not find the Croisette, and we are paying Cannes prices..... c'est la vie. Forget the Bates Motel, we don't bother showering anyway, Vive La France!





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The Rainy Road To Roseau (5 January 2011)

It was a record night for rain battering down on the tin roof of our room, sounding like someone trying to break in. Once the day starts, the rain tends to be more intermittent and so we decided to walk the six miles into the capital Roseau and dodge the downpours. It was mainly downhill as we are 300m above sea level, but there were a couple of challenging inclines to keep us on our toes. Wildlife kept us entertained, land crabs, goats, cows, but little else. Did the animals run away from the rain of Noah's ark?






Ant did find the steep downhill parts a challenge in flip-flops and so walked barefoot. He has loads of shoes but none on this trip!



We met some really kind people en route offering free lifts, or buses or just saying hello. We think that travellers walking here is a novelty. We sheltered from downpours in peoples' garages and lean to's, which is where we met our favourite contact. He was building a 'shopping mall' in his garden from tin sheets and bamboo, on a sharp bend. He'd clearly forgotten the adage location, location, location. Westfield can sleep easy. He did, however, pass on some useful advice. Always cut your bamboo on moonless nights. Thus preventing them being infested with worms. The same applies when taking your worming medication, if you want to be rid of them in one purge. On that advice alone, we will probably avoid the restaurant he is planning on opening in his garden sized mall.
We also met with some huge downpours, Gill's umbrella came to the fore and it saved her from the indignity of yesterday's soaking. It also doubled as a sunshade in those rare dry moments.
Finally the sea and town came into view. Sadly the view of the Caribbean was blocked by the monstrosity of P&O's Azura towering over quaint little Roseau.


We had been forewarned and to be fair we didn't get mistaken for cruisiee's they were old and clean and cheap, we were young and soaking and looked like we'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. Ant expressed surprise that the cruisiee's weren't all dressed up, he had assumed that everyone on a cruise wore linen, duh!



Roseau is a lovely little town, and is amazingly friendly and non threatening, in a way that some other Caribbean towns haven't been. It is a gorgeous mix of tumbledown shops, shipping agents, and women selling lettuce and tomatoes from the back of their pickup trucks. The streets are a mix of wooden and brick built houses, many with porches and balconies, we had a lovely morning running errands.
Two streets from the port, the influx of cruisiee's is felt in their version of Caribbean life, duty free shops, pirate bars and masses of taxi drivers offering trips to the rainforest. However, we didn't let this spoil our fun and we even went to look at some watches!! Weather at the coast is drier but still changeable and it hadn't finished with us yet. When it rained we loved watching the cruisiees scuttle back to the safety of their ship as if they were under fire from the locals.
We had long decided that we weren't going to walk back and so feeling like locals who know their way around town we piled into a dollar van. It was however, a club class van, complete with DVD playing reggae full blast. It was a fun ride and a lot quicker than the walk down. These vans provide a great social service, dropping people outside their doors with all their shopping, or dropping off parcels. It dropped us at the hotel door for less than a £1 each and that was tourist price!


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In Search of Fanny (13 - 14 January 2011) - re post

(Am re posting this as it seems to have posted itself way down in the blog so was all in the wrong date order. And I do like to keep a tidy blog....)
We just couldn't resist this title as fanny is huge on this island, Fanny Nisbet that is. This morning wasn't promising, supremely comfy rooms but the weather was more Wales on an autumn day than the Caribbean in peak season. Gale force winds faced us as we had breakfast overlooking the breaking waves on the bleak beach. But food was good and Ant had kippers, obviously, the Brit influence is still strong here.
The Nisbet Plantation was once the home of Fanny Nisbet, who married Horatio Nelson. They married at the Montpelier Plantation up in the hills, so we decide to take a bus round the island and end up with lunch there. They are the usual minibuses and are great. The locals helped us understand the system. But with one road round the island, it really wasn't too difficult. We go to Charlestown, the tiny capital and then jump on a bus going in the other direction to see where it took us. It took us up Figtree Drive and on to Gingerland, pretty but perhaps not worth stopping. On and off the bus got the local schoolkids, well behaved and dressed in their super white blouses and pleated skirts, as usual we looked scruffy in comparison. We ask to be dropped off at the main road where it turns into the Montpelier Plantation. The bus driver took it upon himself to take us right to the entrance, another example of local kindness, in that way, this is a lovely island.
Montpelier is peopled not by Americans but mainly older Brits. Sort of sub aristocracy, very plummy accents, so guess even here there would be a dress code for dinner of which we would fall well foul.... The bar area by the pool was lovely old colonial, but after lunch we take a stroll to nose at the rooms. Interestingly, this place charges as much an arm and a leg as the Nisbet Plantation, but the rooms, all set in the lush gardens with views over the Caribbean looked equally holiday campish and also as if they were gussied up prefabs from the 1950's..... We didn't find Fanny and Horatio's bridal suite though..... Everywhere seems so old fashioned and these sort of places must die out unless they sharpen up a bit. Diana and kids stayed here 17 years ago, think they're still trading on that. It did however have a nice welcoming atmosphere unlike Nisbet and we had the best food on the trip with gazpacho and salads around the pool, but with two rum punches each the bill was $98US.... So much for backpacking.....









We walked from the hotel, the mile or so to the main road. It goes to show how few tourists actually walk here, we appeared to be a novelty, and got greeted by everyone. Amma was kind and a bus came immediatley. These buses provide a great social service, this was in evidence again today, a young schoolgirl got on with her baby brother in arms. In order to drop them off at their home, the driver, first asking if it was ok with us, took a detour, can you imagine that happening in the uk?
Back in town, we were yet again feeling a little squiffy, so went on an icecream hunt, Ant was lucky, Gill wasn't, before catching another bus back to Nisbet. We know that they are loathsome, but we had planned on going to the manager's cocktail party/ beach barbecue tonight. We planned on faking it as travel journalists and having some fun. But as we appached we could see these groups of "cruise wear clad" Americans and we both thought NAH! Not for us. Small talk is too much like hard work...... So we escaped the hotel for the evening to Gallipot, it was 100% tourist and 100% white, hanging out its economic apartheid laundry for all to see, so again not normally our scene, but must admit the US inluenced food was good.








At least on day three it was sunny and we spent the morning on the beach. It may have been sunny but it was also windy and so rather unpleasant. We did enjoy watching the pelicans dive for fish. In the afternoon, we found some shelter further inland, near our rooms. A day of reading and relaxing, and Ant getting red as he didn't apply any suncream at all. tut tut!
And Gill trying to recreate those iconic pictures of Diana on the beach here - a task too far even for Adobe Photoshop....








We decided to go out for some sunset drinks to a well known beach shack bar called Sunshine's. The beach, Pinney's, is grey, a mix of coral and volcanic sand, with ramshackle beach bars, loud music, and reminiscent of Goa. There was a fantastic view over to the dark peaks of the St Kitt's volcanic hills and a few white yachts bobbing about. Sunshine's is famous for their Killer Bee rum punches and reggae. We have no idea what we imbibed, or even whether it was legal, but funnily enough, the sunset looked particularly colourful.....









We sat on the beach watching the sunset together on this trip for the last time. We strolled up Pinney's beach to the Four Seasons. The beach was even more volcanic here and lined with beach chairs but the hotel was very nice and was what we thought The Nisbet Plantation was going to be like. We are so getting used to throwing wads of money at people in the Caribbean that we barely flinch at the 15% service and 10% tax on top of our 10US$ each glasses of Sauvignon Blanc. It was nice to sit here though and even Gill used their posh loo, a real treat....









We had originally planned to eat at Sunshine's but to be honest it didn't look great, so both feeling a tad tipsy by now (what was in that killer bee punch, we really thought the brown powder was nutmeg.....) we returned to Gallipot for our last supper. We drank no more booze, the earlier drinks had knocked us out! Gallipot is run by a local and her Brit husband and appeals to the white expat crowd, but sometimes we just don't want goat water or fried chicken so the European/US menu is welcome. She was telling us about the rise of gun crime on the island and the fact that the Four Seasons employs 40% of the island's population. This island has certainly sold it's soul. Couple this with a dramatic drop in tourist numbers and the ultra high prices and the future isn't looking rosy.
Tracy, the owner of Gallipot's also informed us that her family had owned Nisbets till 15 years ago. Maybe, at last, we had found our Fanny?
But perhaps our view of Nevis has been coloured by our unrealistic expectations and a bad choice of hotel. It's not the Caribbean Dream of white, palm finged beaches and blue seas, it's a pleasant, prettyish place with lovely friendly people. But it's old fashioned charm is carried too far with old fashioned formality in it's hotels.... So last century dahling......
So writing this on the last morning, it's raining (no surprise there). We head to the ferry at 12.15 back to St kitts and BA to London for Ant, whilst Gill disembarks at Antigua. It's been a fun trip and we are glad to have seen more of the Caribbean, and enjoyed linking up the islands by whatever means available but it has lacked the adventure of previous trips and the camaraderie of meeting fellow travellers. Yanks in cruise wear not suiting us AT ALL!
But we have collected a record number of pins in one trip.......

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Testing tech....

Testing new tech for uploading blogs......



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The 5 R's (4 January 2011)

Dominica is known as the island of 5Rs. And the first one is rain and we sure as damn it have had plenty of that.
We spent the day being shown Dominica by a local driver - Alfred, who did a great job in making sure that we didn't see one other tourist all day, no rare feat as there were apparently three cruise boats in harbour today vomiting a total of over 9,000 passengers ashore….

The rain here is never far away, from blue skies to monsoon in less than 30 seconds. Our first drenching was when we hiked to the Emerald Pool, deep in the Morne Trois Pitons National Park. The rainforest is beautiful, words cannot do justice to the abundance of growth, and the splendour of greens from across the colour spectrum with just glimpses of sky far above. So even if it stopped raining for real, drops from the tall trees continued to moisten us as we made our way. Looking like drowned rats we got to the Emerald Pool and its waterfall.

The rain cleared as we drove north west, hugging the coast road. The green towering volcanic cliffs of Dominica plunge straight down to the sea, leaving very little room for roads. The road was being built and funded by the Chinese, they are all over the Caribbean, building useful things like sports stadiums, roads and hospitals. In stark contracts the EU appear to be funding bandstand shaped bus stops and reconstructing 18th century forts. I know which one curries more favour with the locals.
The torrential rain inland resulted in hundreds of raging waterfalls crashing down the hills onto the roads.

Alfred, our driver with his rainforest umbrella

The second R is rivers and we saw plenty, large and small. We had asked Alfred to take us north to Portsmouth to the Indian River, where we could get a local boatman to row us upstream into the forest for an hour or so. Gill was none too happy to see that David the rasta (our boatman's) boat was a small leaky rowing boat. No sooner had we climbed inelegantly aboard, than the heavens opened yet again. So heavy that Gill's kagool just gave up on her, leaving her soaked to the skin. The fast current was against us as on and on David rowed, the overhanging branches now meeting overhead. Finally and unexpectedly we moored, or at least crashed into the bank and we stepped out onto a muddy slippery bank which Ant's haviana’s didn't like at all. We were led along the river bank and yes, you've guessed it - a local rum shack, much joy - the third R - rum!

Ant enjoying a dynamite local rum

Rastas abounded, iffy baccy galore, and we have some home brewed rum called dynamite. Gill, despite being soaked through even had the energy to buy a seed bracelet the likes of which have never graced Bond Street. All in all a fun half hour was spent here deep in the rainforest with these guys and the mozzies. The return journey in bright sunshine was nowhere near as much fun.

Our leaky rowboat up Indian River

David, our boatman

The local 18th century British, Fort Shirley at Cabrits got our attention for two minutes before lunch called. Unfortunately we were too late for some of the local lunch spots that we tried so embarrassingly we had to go to KFC, which Alfred reckons stands for Killing fucking customers!
Two more Rs I hear you ask, what must the be? Well rainbows of course, and we saw hundreds. We spent the afternoon in the Morne Diablotin Syndicate National Park. We journeyed on narrow single lane roads up to 700m, past small farms growing everything from oranges, grapefruits, nutmegs, sorrel, coconut, plantains, darsheen for callaloo, cocoa, mangoes, coffee, papaya and of course bananas. The soil and climate create such a bountiful harvest. All this was set against a backdrop of dramatic green, and mist clad mountains.


Somewhere over the rainbow....


At the park, we hiked with Alfred for an hour or so through the virgin rainforest and saw rainbow after rainbow, we had never seen them so complete or prolific before. We were introduced to various plants and trees, the most memorable of which was (and this is not the botanic name…..) the toilet paper plant…. The leaves are so soft, we understand they can be used for that purpose…. On balance we will stick to Andrex….The forest was amazing, great towering trees, vines hanging low, and as one friend said, me Tarzan, Gill Jane. We were even lucky enough to catch glimpses of the extremely colourful indigenous national bird the Jaco parrot. Only one danger to look out for, as the boa constrictors are not poisonous, wild boars. Nice….
We've had a lovely day, and now for the last R, sadly its romance an whilst we weren't looking to fall in love whilst here, maybe Dominica has stolen our hearts a little.

Rivers everywhere

Waking Up In Dingley dell (3 January 2011)

Apologies to Charles Dickens but when we woke up in the Papillotte Wilderness Retreat, high up in the rainforest at the head of the Roseau Valley, we thought we were in Dingley Dell. The whole place is owned and run by an an American lady who first started it off as a remote bar in the late 60's. It was completely destroyed in the hurricane of 1979 and she has lovingly restored (for that read, eccentrically restored.....) it into the charming place that it is today. Design touches are abundant, holes in the mozzie nets, mismatched furniture, slightly mouldy bathroom tiles, you get the drift? We had booked the Breadfruit Suite, a two bedroom suite at treetop level. Ok, it has two bedrooms, but sadly all that is missing is the wall between the two.... But it did have its own private pool. Yes, I know you are thinking, private pool, nice, blue..... This was indeed private but is a rather metallic red...... Built in stone it is actually fed by the hot sulphur springs so abundant on this island, so was wonderfully hot. The whole place is set in a fantasy garden, with the butterfly as the motif. Little paths wind through and you are surprised by more hot spring pools, peacocks, and vegetation almost too thick to walk through. There are little boughs and benches to rest on and fruit trees, flowers and painted walls. We are convinced we saw two fairies, but then we realised they were just the two blokes upstairs...... But we are in the rainforest and it rained, and rained and rained........ This also gives the place a dark, dripping, dank feel with that all pervading smell of damp that takes Gill straight back to damp, smelly pillows and sheets in Guatemala last year. But that’s what happens in the rainforest where it so far appears to rain continuously…. And they do get 340 inches of rain a year.

So what to do in the rain. Well it is now three days into 2011 and Ant is yet to have a shower, so his dip in yet another hot pool fed by a shower of hot spring water was quite welcome, to Gill at least. We were then directed down the hill to find another. Flip flops are not the easiest footwear to navigate a slippery slope but we made it to the sound of frogs and the sight of scuttling land crabs. And there was yet another hot pool where the water bubbling up from the earth's fissures was clear to be seen, rather like champagne bubbles. Next to it was a cool pool fed by the cascading waterfall above. Gill as usual wimped out, but Ant was doing his Adam impression and also being brave going from hot pool to cold with only a modicum of screeching..... Gill was the photographer. But the whole place really is amazing, just like losing yourself in the Garden of Eden. Pass me an apple quick ...... Ok the iPad will do.....
But we couldn't play Adam and Eve all day and it was still p*****g down so we had to repair to the restaurant for a spot of lunch and a rum punch.... After this of course Ant needed a nod.... But we stirred ourselves at 4pm to take the short walk to the Trafalgar Waterfalls, a must see site in Dominica. They were indeed impressive (as was the walk up a pretty steep but luckily short hill). Very impressive, but more impressive was Ant, starved of shops, who was moved to buy a bamboo recorder/flute type thing from the local one legged Rasta.... He still can't play it...

This is an eco resort, so the shower water is fed directly from the hot springs. Whilst we are sure (well at least Gill is, Ant hasn't bothered finding out.....) that the "eau de sulphur and metal" that stays on your skin after your shower is the local top fragrance, the red residue is not so good. Gill is now a "ginga" as her highlights have turned red....
And then to dinner. The food theme seems to be British food of the 50's, soup, salad some sort of meat with cold vegetables and a stodgy pudding..... But as you know, rum punches always help these things along. As does the diversion of low flying bats... But we are to be grateful for those apparently, they do something (either eat or scare) away the mosquitoes.... On balance though , I think we would prefer to brave a mozzie than a bat.....
But despite its oddities this really is a fabulous place. The surrounding scenery of a steep backdrop of rainforest, waterfalls, flowers and babbling streams, hot pools, cold pools are quite special. Dominica is shaping up to be our favourite island yet.

We Hereby Declare Martinique Closed (2 January 2011)

Top tip, never come to Martinique on a bank holiday Sunday. Firmly ferme.

Our 24 hours in Martinique was more of an excuse to get a pin than a serious visit, so we restricted our time to Fort de France. We stayed at Centre International de Sejours, a youth hostel in all but name and built in a new area of the town. Amazingly it could have been Calais. The cars, houses, street furniture were lifted straight from France which shouldn't have surprised us as this is France after all! The attitude wasn't French at all though, people were disarmingly friendly and helpful everywhere.

So what to do in Fort de France on a bank holiday Sunday? Not a lot. We took a cab to the port to try and dump our bags, but to no avail, there was no left luggage and we couldn't check them in, so we charmed the chap who ran the multi storey car park and he agreed to look after our bags for the afternoon. Now that wouldn't have happened in London or Paris.

Our walk involved dodging showers around a grid of pretty little streets, past the cathedral, the green square, the fort and museums, Galerries Lafayette and Esprit all firmly closed and then to add insult to injury a branch of Paul, with all its glorious bread and pastries - closed. We took refuge in a branch of Quick which was open! Not to be defeated, our trusted Lonely Planet led us to the best hotel in town L'Imperatrice. Salivating at the thought of a French lunch with no creole spices and no fried chicken, we were to be sorely disappointed. Not only did they not have any wine, they didn't have any food!! Back onto the street and we finally found lunch at a little cafe on the seafront and had a few kir royale’s (France has its benefits). It felt like out of season Hastings, it even had a pier, McDonalds and some barricaded amusement arcades.

Travelling light as usual

So our impression of Martinique is jaded, we only saw Fort de France, it rained and it was closed, so it would be unfair to judge.
Compared to St Lucia, the ferry port was like Terminal 5, slick and modern. It lulled Gill into a false sense of security though. Upon boarding, we were informed that the seas were rough, and yes they were. Gill holding on rather dramatically with both hands, kids throwing up, the hydrofoil crew handing out sick bags and tissues. The crossing took 1.5 hours. Which was too long for most.

Martinique on a Sunday, even Delifrance is closed

So here we are in Dominica, (no not the Dominican Republic Derek, thank you for asking). Arriving in the dark and rain, it reminded us of Belize City, but without the evil edge. We were befriended by a friendly cabbie called Hayden who brought us up here to the rainforest with attending tropical downpour in his battered van. At one point his lights popped out and then he crunched the front of his van into a dip in the road, he apologised saying he knew the dip was there but that he'd forgotten!

At Papillotte Wilderness Retreat the sounds of the rainforest were overwhelming, heavy rain and the deafening sound of running water. Our room had no windows only wooden shutters with no mesh, so Mrs G is applying lashings of anti mozzie stuff as we speak! She was pleased to read though that the mozzies are efficiently dealt with by low flying bats. Now she is looking for anti bat spray. Please send supplies immediately.