Day 4We took a van trip to Marigot, the capital on the French side. There's a flea market on Weds and Sat, and I assume the resort billed this as a shopping trip. As always, we were more interested in the people-watching. It's always about the people-watching: wondering how they've solved the problem of making a life on this planet, what can we learn from them, what wisdom can we bring back home? We did a brief turn around the stalls and for the most part the had the expected wares: more t-shirts and tote bags, bead necklaces, some art in traditional island style. Every so often there would be a flash of something unusual, one that attracted us was trivets that folded into baskets covered with fabric from Provence. But our first "mission" of the day was French pastries for breakfast, and after a short walk we found a cafe. The first croissants were so good we went up for seconds! Dan suggested that we go downtown first, then come back to the flea market in the afternoon, since it was closer to where the bus would pick us up. We walked all over the maze of streets downtown, past shops displaying fashions more creative than what we see in the States, real-estate offices, jewelry, interspersed with more sidewalk cafes. One of the folks on the bus had said that it really did remind her of Paris. I've never been there except to change planes, but appreciated the sounds of French being spoken in the background as we walked. This was just the beginning of the season, so some shops remained shuttered, others were still on shortened hours. But there was plenty to look at! We toured the marina in the midst of town and checked out restaurant menus and mega-yachts. For lunch, in contrast to the elegant French breakfast, we went to a strip of narrow stalls, the "lo-los" serving local food, where a plate of rice and peas and a beer set us back a crushing 5 euros each.
While we were sitting it rained buckets, and it was fun to watch the way different people reacted. The vendors at the flea market quickly covered their wares with tarps, and the cafes had isinglass curtains to shelter their sidewalk seating areas. People walking either panicked or huddled in alleyways, or totally ignored the rain. These tropical storms seem to rain very hard for about 10 minutes, then the sun comes out again. We can watch them approach over the water from our balcony. Presumably the people who ignore the storms know that they will soon dry out again. We saw one person with a t-shirt wrapped around his/her head. I couldn't figure that one out - it certainly did nothing to keep the rain off.
Day 5...was a beach day. Dan pointed out that if we did something every day, we'd be exhausted by the time we got back home. So we did a bit of sunning, a bit of swimming, reading a mystery novel and playing scrabble. We ended up in lounges and under an umbrella next to Kyle and Kirsten, and met their parents. Talked about grad school, and moving frequently "in service to Uncle Sam," and islands. Went downtown for dinner - as we were warned, they rolled up the sidewalks at 6 pm. Shops were shuttered and no one was on the streets or the boardwalk. It's the slow season now still, but if we want evening action we'll have to look for it elsewhere.
We're still wrestling with whether to rent a car. Driving here seems quite intimidating. Roads are narrow, steep and winding, street signs confusing, and the locals drive unpredictably, plus the island habit of stopping anywhere, often holding up traffic, to briefly chat with a friend or give a friend a lift. We're both feeling a bit off our stride and vulnerable, Dan mentally and me physically, further contributing to our dilemma. So, what do you do when faced with a challenge? How do you know whether this reluctance to drive is fear or laziness that we should push through, or whether it's a warning from our instincts that should be honored? I fight the same fight in physical therapy, and it's one of the biggest reasons I so appreciate working with a therapist to give me a reality check. How far to push, and if I feel like I've done "enough" of any particular exercise and want to quit, am I stopping out of laziness, or body wisdom?
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