Much of the Caribbean is stunningly beautiful, but many islands are essentially third-world countries due to their poor economies. Martinique, on the other hand, is like an oasis in the dessert. The French have successfully duplicated a lot of their culture in the country’s overseas directorates, Guadeloupe and Martinique. Great food, good shopping, fashionable clothes, and that famous Gallic attitude. Both countries are essentially “departments” of France and fully supported by the French government. That means good roads, excellent navigation aids, a functioning police department, and all the creature comforts of home. As a result, Martinique enjoys the highest standard of living in the Caribbean.
Le Marin is the equivalent of Fort Lauderdale in many respects. With two huge modern marinas, superyachts at anchor, and a beautiful setting dominated by green mountain peaks, it’s about all you could ask for in a Caribbean island. Le Marin is also the center for charter boats, with daily Air France flights disgorging hordes of French sailors and sailor-wannbes to the myriad of 40- to 50-ft catamarans that line the docks at Marina du Marin. The channel leading into the marina is like Interstate 5 at rush hour, with huge catamarans crawling with sunburned Frenchmen and women enjoying their last moments in the sun.
Speaking of Frenchmen, a blogger recently described Le Marin as “grandpas in Speedos.” First, that’s not me she’s are talking about, and second, some of the grandpas are in pretty good shape for their age. The Speedos, well, that’s a European thing I don’t fully understand. If women are allowed to show off their figures in bikinis maybe it’s the French male equivalent. Whatever.
Unfortunately our first task in Martinique, along with our boat buddies on Escape Velocity, was to take care of some boat maintenance issues. In our case, we needed to have our batteries tested to confirm they were OK (they weren’t). Luckily Le Marin has lots of excellent chanderlies, mechanics, electricians, and just about anything else you could ask for. Here’s the rub, they speak only French and we don’t. We went to the major chanderly, Caraibe, where the owner Philipe speaks understandable English, compared to my incomprehendible French.
Now here’s the second rub, it was Christmas time and the French love their holidays. And they have a lot of them. We arranged for an electrician to come out to the boat on Christmas Eve Day, but I held out little hope it would happen (it didn’t). Our friends Jack and Marce, trying to getting some rigging issues resolved, ran into similar problems. And then there is rub #3, everything in Martinique is priced “European,” which means we probably can’t afford it. We did stock up on lots of little odds and ends for the boat that were difficult to find at other ports.
With nothing to do but wait, we decided to make the best of the situation and immerse ourselves in the culture. This meant going to the great grocery stores and marveling at 30 different types of French cheese, all excellent. Walking to the boulangerie where you can smell the fresh baguettes about a block away. And hanging out at the sidewalk restaurants, sipping a fine French wine or enjoying the local French beer, Lorraine.
I truly have to give the French credit; they make enjoying life an art form. While Americans work themselves to death the French seem to enjoy a two-hour lunch, long dinners, and the camaraderie of their friends. Fine food, a beautiful spoken language, and flair for fashion epitomize the French way. It is said the average French woman spends more on lingerie than American women spend on clothes. Worth some research I guess.
Back at the boat we marveled in the French’s ability to anchor close to other boats, “in your cockpit with you” as the British say. But the more I thought about it most European anchorages are small compared to American harbors so anchoring close is just part of the game. We’ve learned to live with it and have even returned the favor on a few occasions.
On Christmas Eve Day, after waiting for the electrician who didn’t arrive, we decided do some laundry. The laundry facility in the marina was absolutely first rate, with six large commercial-style machines. The problem was they were controlled by a centralized computerized machine whose instructions were all in French (how come they are not bilingual like in Montreal?). Ironically some Italian guys showed us how it worked and after that everything was great. Our clothes dried in about half the time as normal in the big machines.
We explored the small waterfront village of Le Marin, full of marine-related stores, clothing stores, and the occasional grocery store. I was amazed that even the walls of construction sites that would be covered by graffiti in the US had some excellent art work on them. There doesn’t seem to be the level of vandalism you see in the States; people seem to respect property to a higher degree. They also had an excellent garbage/recycling centers spaced about town. Usually facilities for getting rid of garbage are either non existent, expensive, or force us to employ a creative touch to accomplish our task (they say the easiest way to get rid of nuclear waste is to package it as radios and install them in BMW’s parked in New York City).
Meryl needed some instant pudding for her Christmas morning coffee cake recipe and the experience of trying to track that down in the grocery store was interesting. First, the French eschew anything “instant” related to food, second we couldn’t read any of the labels, and third, our technique of finding some teenagers who could speak English and help us translate didn’t work because very, very few French speak English. We got something that we think is used in making Flan but we’re still not sure if it will work.
Getting in the Christmas spirit is somewhat tough when it’s 82 degrees outside with the sun beaming down. With no evergreen aroma wafting from the Christmas tree, blinking Christmas lights outside, or Christmas carols on the radio, it just didn’t seem the same. Meryl rallied, however, and made an excellent Christmas Eve dinner consisting of ham, her special scalloped potatoes, salad, and wine.
Not bad for being on a boat floating in a harbor in a small Caribbean island!
Le Marin is the equivalent of Fort Lauderdale in many respects. With two huge modern marinas, superyachts at anchor, and a beautiful setting dominated by green mountain peaks, it’s about all you could ask for in a Caribbean island. Le Marin is also the center for charter boats, with daily Air France flights disgorging hordes of French sailors and sailor-wannbes to the myriad of 40- to 50-ft catamarans that line the docks at Marina du Marin. The channel leading into the marina is like Interstate 5 at rush hour, with huge catamarans crawling with sunburned Frenchmen and women enjoying their last moments in the sun.
Speaking of Frenchmen, a blogger recently described Le Marin as “grandpas in Speedos.” First, that’s not me she’s are talking about, and second, some of the grandpas are in pretty good shape for their age. The Speedos, well, that’s a European thing I don’t fully understand. If women are allowed to show off their figures in bikinis maybe it’s the French male equivalent. Whatever.
 |
| Caribe Chanderly on the left is an excellent source of sailing gear while Mango's Restaurant is just a great place to hang out and do Internet. |
Now here’s the second rub, it was Christmas time and the French love their holidays. And they have a lot of them. We arranged for an electrician to come out to the boat on Christmas Eve Day, but I held out little hope it would happen (it didn’t). Our friends Jack and Marce, trying to getting some rigging issues resolved, ran into similar problems. And then there is rub #3, everything in Martinique is priced “European,” which means we probably can’t afford it. We did stock up on lots of little odds and ends for the boat that were difficult to find at other ports.
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| What's not to like about a French grocery store that sells Heineken in the mini-keg size? |
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| Those are all cookies, rows and rows of cookies. |
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| Hanging out at the bar at Mango's. |
Back at the boat we marveled in the French’s ability to anchor close to other boats, “in your cockpit with you” as the British say. But the more I thought about it most European anchorages are small compared to American harbors so anchoring close is just part of the game. We’ve learned to live with it and have even returned the favor on a few occasions.
On Christmas Eve Day, after waiting for the electrician who didn’t arrive, we decided do some laundry. The laundry facility in the marina was absolutely first rate, with six large commercial-style machines. The problem was they were controlled by a centralized computerized machine whose instructions were all in French (how come they are not bilingual like in Montreal?). Ironically some Italian guys showed us how it worked and after that everything was great. Our clothes dried in about half the time as normal in the big machines.
We explored the small waterfront village of Le Marin, full of marine-related stores, clothing stores, and the occasional grocery store. I was amazed that even the walls of construction sites that would be covered by graffiti in the US had some excellent art work on them. There doesn’t seem to be the level of vandalism you see in the States; people seem to respect property to a higher degree. They also had an excellent garbage/recycling centers spaced about town. Usually facilities for getting rid of garbage are either non existent, expensive, or force us to employ a creative touch to accomplish our task (they say the easiest way to get rid of nuclear waste is to package it as radios and install them in BMW’s parked in New York City).
Meryl needed some instant pudding for her Christmas morning coffee cake recipe and the experience of trying to track that down in the grocery store was interesting. First, the French eschew anything “instant” related to food, second we couldn’t read any of the labels, and third, our technique of finding some teenagers who could speak English and help us translate didn’t work because very, very few French speak English. We got something that we think is used in making Flan but we’re still not sure if it will work.
Getting in the Christmas spirit is somewhat tough when it’s 82 degrees outside with the sun beaming down. With no evergreen aroma wafting from the Christmas tree, blinking Christmas lights outside, or Christmas carols on the radio, it just didn’t seem the same. Meryl rallied, however, and made an excellent Christmas Eve dinner consisting of ham, her special scalloped potatoes, salad, and wine.
Not bad for being on a boat floating in a harbor in a small Caribbean island!
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