I don’t even go here!

So the journey to Paris was a lot less eventful, I was sat next to a bohemian type who thankfully slept for the majority of the way which meant I could catch 40 winks every now and then. However, due to the heightened security when we got to the Euro-tunnel (no idea why, it wasn’t me I promise!) we had to take a later crossing, resulting in us arriving at Charles de Gaulle a bit later than expected. Luckily I managed to cross Paris with no problems before having a very expensive brunch at Paris Orly and meeting up with Nicola before checking in to fly to Martinique. Only 8 more hours to go…

However, I am never flying with Corseairfly (the French version of Thomas Cook) ever again. Yes they were the cheapest, and yes it actually turned out I could take 50kgs of luggage because I’m a student (as well as a 10% discount… nice!) but I had no TV, hardly any leg room and the food was terrible (this is definitely a big factor for me). I am in no way a travel snob; I took a coach from Bangor for crying out loud! But it’s deffo going to be AirFrance on the way back for me, even if it’s just for the free mini bottle of wine and rum hehe.

So we finally arrived at Fort-de-France, tired but happy to be finally here after 38+ hours of travelling. So we went to get our bags. And waited. And waited. People here seem to make the most of the generous luggage limit and bring EVERYTHING back from their visits to Paris (and after seeing the prices of some of the items here I see why)! And then all I had to do was go to a cash machine to get some money to pay for the taxi from the airport to the uni. Because telling the bank in advance that I was going abroad should mean my card would work abroad right? Wrong.

Thankfully between the two of us we had enough to get to the university student residences, the taxi driver being kind enough to wait whilst I ran in and had a brief encounter with the ever helpful security staff that went something like this (except in my tired, broken French):

‘Hello I’ve got a room reserved’
‘What name is it please?’
‘Jones, Emma-Louise’
*has a quick look* ‘No sorry’ *walks off*
‘Erm… are you sure. I got a confirmation email saying I did…’
*sighing* ‘Did you ring to confirm?’
‘No, I just got an email confirming my place; there was no number on it or instructions to do so’
‘Well you should have rung’
‘Ok, well I’m sorry I didn’t. I thought the confirmation email was enough. I have the email here…’
‘Well I haven’t got a key for you because you didn’t ring’
‘Right… well what do I do now then?’
*sighs even more* ‘well I guess I’ll have to give you a temporary room then you’ll have to come find me tomorrow morning. You can’t stay here’

Wow. My first encounter with the ever helpful Madame Richer. What a welcome to Martinique! Thankfully I think I looked bedraggled enough to scrounge a bed for the night and the halls were a lot nicer than expected although I was under strict instructions not to make a mess! So after dropping off my bags, so began Nicola’s and my long journey to find 2, Rue Joesph-Semphore where her landlady should hopefully be waiting for her (she has chosen to stay in apartment with other ERASMUS students rather than student halls).

We figured this would be relatively simple. One person’s bags between the two of us and we can just ask for directions for the address written on the piece of paper, after all Schoelcher is not that big. How wrong could we be? Again. No-one knew the address. We didn’t have a contact number for Madame Semphore. And we had genuinely no idea in which direction we should be going. All we knew was it was 2 minutes from the beach and 5 from the university. So, like a river, we headed in the direction of the sea. At least it was downhill.

After walking for what felt like forever (which we have since found is not actually that far) and asking every single person we met, we eventually came across a guy who took us to the local ‘gendarmerie’ to ask for directions (I’m sure this is a waste of police time but at least I can say I’ve been in a Martiniquais police station)! So having lost a wheel on Nicola’s suitcase and feeling exhausted from travelling and the afternoon heat we finally arrived at Rue Joesph-Semphore....

After assuring her only one of us was moving in, Madame Semphore gave us the great tour of the apartment. If I can get some pictures of it and put them up here I will. Despite my OCD, I think it is brilliant (although I certainly couldn’t live there)! The whole place is on various uncoordinated levels, a ginormous mismatch of different building materials and fabrics (Nicola currently has a curtain for a bedroom door and something that wouldn’t look out of place in a prison at the entrance) and like many buildings here looks like if you leaned on a certain part too heavily the whole thing would fall down.

We then met Hannes, a German guy who lives with Nicola and three other English girls, Amy, Rosie and Sophie who live in the flat above, and are thankfully all on the same ERASMUS program as us. After a slight repose and pizza we headed to the beach where we were introduced to so many more students and locals than I fear I will never be able to remember all of their names. Sat watching the sun set, the waves gently breaking on the shore as everyone chatted and drank tropical juice I couldn’t think life could get any better.

That was until one of the girls asked me, “Do you like R&B music? Because not to stereotype but just about everyone here is a gangster!” I think I have found heaven on Earth. I only wish Sioned was with me.

Une fille me demander « si j’aime la music de R&B. Parce-que elle ne veut pas stéréotyper mais presque tout le monde est un gangster !» Je pense que j’avais trouvé le ciel sur la terre. Je seulement la souhaite que Sioned (une copine qui aime bien cette culture) est ici avec moi.