Joneses on Tour!

So I've realised quite a few of my latest posts have been somewhat downhearted, alors time for some bon news from the sunny Caribbean!

At the end of October I was graced with the presence of the rest of the Jones Crew for a couple of weeks during their half term holiday. It was so great to have them out here and show them around Martinique (and of course they could bring out all the stuff I'd forgotten as well as some additional supplies of Pimms)!

We stayed in Trois Ilets, about 40 minutes away from my university or half an hour boat ride from the capital, and one of the tourist hotspots in Martinique with some fantastic views of Anse Mitan. It also meant we weren't far from the Creole Village, a mock-traditional village full of shops, restaurants and bars - what's not to love!?

Thankfully Papa Jones had hired a car which meant we were able to visit just about the whole island, including:

Saint-Pierre, the former capital totally destroyed by the volcano you can see in the background (Mount Pelée) in 1902. 

The North Atlantic Coast, with it's plages dangereuse (dangerous beaches).

Marked on the map as 'dangerous' with good reason, if you'd seen the size of the waves you wouldn't want to swim in there either. We visited the inappropriately named Grand Riviere, a small fishing town with the 'grandest' feature being it's beautiful Church.

It was a bizzare place with only the one, very winding road in and out, which included crossing over a very rickety metal bridge in the middle of the rainforest.

The beautiful beaches in the south of the island, including Les Salines, famous for it's long white sandy beach. 

                    

Possibly our favourite beach :)  

And of course Heff came to catch some rays as well!

We also visited a pottery village with some crazy sculptures!

The boys favourite: quad-biking!

Kind of miffed they managed to leave with a better tan than the one I've been working on for the past seven weeks, but it was still amazing to see them :)

Cheers to that!
EmJ x

Sun, sea, sand and a whole lot of French admin

Martinique is beautiful. There is no denying that there is something special about waking up and seeing palm trees from your balcony. The beaches are incredible (apart from when you're catching worms), the views breathtaking and the weather something we could only dream about back in the UK. Which is perfect if you're on holiday...

...if you're here with something to do though, it's a nightmare.

Take 6,000+ students, some bad French administration (notoriously shocking), add some Caribbean laid back attitude, plenty of heat to increase the irritability of all involved and you get a good picture of what life is like here at l'université des Antillies et de la Guyane.

Just over six weeks after my arrival, I finally have a timetable sorted. Although I'm concerned that the administration staff here only know two phrases; 'revenir demain' (come back tomorrow) and 'je ne sais pas, ça n'a rien à voir avec moi' (I don't know, it's got nothing to do with me) as I've rarely heard them say anything else. Unless of course you're waiting in their office whilst they finish their important phone conversation, because of course their friend should wear the matching necklace, earring and bracelet set with that dress for her hot date tonight. You think because French isn't my native language I couldn't understand what you were chatting about whilst I stood around waiting like piffy on a rock-bun?
Fool, think again.

This is of course, failing to mention the Martinique Shrug. The number one thing to really get on my wick. After queuing up for a reasonable length of time at the admin office, flashing the best smile you can muster and using your politest form of French to ask for help/advice/a form signed, you are simply greeted with a shrug and then a turning of the head whilst the member of staff in question continues to staple forms, make paper chains, bracelets out of interconnecting paper-clips, whatever they do in the office all day (sorry all morning, they're not open afternoons) indicating that they are going to do nothing more to help you and that is all the information you're going to get. It's often followed by a sigh to show just how much effort they had to put in to that shrug. 

We even had someone explain to us in class that the people here can't work too hard because it's too hot. Excuse me? You work in an air conditioned office?

But alas, it's done. Beach for me after class tomorrow it is then (yes, we have class Saturday morning, what jokes) before heading to the airport to meet my folks coming over for their belated summer holiday :)

Let the fun begin!
EmJx

This 'stuff' is bananas, B.A.N.A.N.A.S

It appears Banana Museums do exist. And over 1000 types of banana! Who would have thought it it? 

As today was our day off, three other Erasmus students and myself rented a suitably coloured, bright yellow car and headed to the other side of the island to visit La Musee de la Banane near St Marie.

Even though it drizzled from time to time it was great to get out and explore some more of the island as well as sample some of the banana cocktails, crisps, jam and cake at the end of the tour!

We then drove around the island for a bit, listening to Sean Paul and Disney music full blast (such tourists!) before heading to the south of the island for dinner outside as the sun went down = paradise! 

I guess I could get used to this lifestyle... Shame we have an obligatory 'Sports Day' tomorrow at the university. I wonder how I can get out of this one... where's my doctors note?!
EmJx

Ladies who lunch

This Saturday we finally felt it was time to check out some of the local cuisine after eating multiple variations on traditional student food thanks to the university's shocking excuse for a kitchen and the price of peas. After a quick recovery from our 7h30 lecture (classes this early on a Saturday are just pure torture) we headed down to the beach at Schoelcher where there's a cute snack bar/restaurant for a late lunch.

I decided to go for the local Creole salad, made with Accras de Morue (the only possible way of explaining it is like mixing cod with a savoury doughnut. It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise!), black pudding and dressed crab who even came in a little shell with peppery hair :) It might seem quite shocking that so many of us ordered a salad when there's so many steaks, burgers etc. on the menu but as it's about 6€ for a small bag of salad in the supermarkets it was quite nice to have something healthy for a change (until we got totally stuck in on the salad dressing of course)!  

All washed down with a chilled glass of planters punch, a local cocktail made with rhum (obviously), fruit juice and grenadine with various spices.   

And with the restaurant leading directly on to our local beach with views like this it would of course be rude not to stay for a few hours, or maybe until the sun sets...

Got to make the most of it whilst the sun is shining after all!

Surf's up, Emma's down!

I admit that in life there's going to be things I am not good at, a list which is continually growing. Unfortunately, surfing is most definitely being added to it.

Despite not harbouring any hidden talents in the water-sport department, I had a fantastic afternoon with a Canadian couple and my fellow Yorkshire homies, attempting to look cool and catch some waves on the east-side of the island. Although when your arms aren't even long enough to carry the board properly and you keep downing phenomenal amounts of sea-water this can be quite tricky! Despite a shaky beginning (it's never a good start when you can't even lay on the board without rolling off in to the sea) I managed to half get up on to the board and glide along on my knees. After all, you weren't expecting me to to stop doing things by halves just because I left the country did you?!

We then stopped off in a lovely little Boulangerie for cakes and ice-cream before heading home for an early night. Because before you start thinking my year abroad is all play and no work, we were actually in uni for 7h30 for a painfully long, four hour lecture and seminar on 'Francophone Caribbean Literature.' Although I do have the full day off tomorrow... :)

Until next time,
EmJ x 

You mean that thing has teeth?!

I think have a thing for foreign medical care. I must do, as I'm always so willing to test it out and my ERASMUS year wouldn't have been complete without at least one visit chez le medicin. I just didn't expect it to happen quite so early on, although thankfully in a much less spectacular manner than the 'Canadian-sour-cream incident'.

Mosquitoes are unfortunately very common here so I thought nothing of it when it appeared I had been bitten several times on the one toe, forming a rather amusing phallus shape mark. So I let it be (apart from the fact that it itched like hell and looked hilarious) until I noticed a couple of days later when painting my toe-nails that it had in fact *ahem* grown and was now snaking it's way down my toe and on to my foot.

After keeping an eye on it for another couple of days and realising there was now something in my foot that was clearly not going to stop growing despite the amount of bite-cream, plasters and antibacterial hand sanitiser I put on it (at least I tried!), I decided to turn to the all-knowing Google. A sure fire way to get your skin crawling and convince yourself that you're being eaten from the inside out.

The symptoms and physical description added up. It appeared I'd caught a 'hookworm' - a parasite usually present in dogs and caught by humans walking barefoot through either infected faeces or sandy ground (as I  live five minutes from the beach I am increasingly hopeful that it's the latter). And it has teeth! And was slowly drinking my blood! And taking my vitamins and minerals that were already in short supply thanks to a standard poor-student diet of super-noodles and pasta.

After an uncomfortable night, plagued by nightmares of giant worms with teeth (I think the microscopic image above says it all) I headed to the university nurse after morning class to have my dear worm friend confirmed. Unfortunately she was unable to issue me a prescription as she was only a nurse specialising in 'preventative health care' (ie she hands out condoms and leaflets to students) so I skipped afternoon class to head to the local medecin sans rendez vous and pay 25€ to tell the doctor what was wrong with me: "Il y a quelqu’un qui vit dans mon orteil” literally, “there’s somebody living in my toe.”

Leaving the adjacent pharmacy with a bag full of pills and enough antiseptic wash and spray to make me concerned about the impression I'm giving about my personal hygiene and a receipt to make your eyes water, I was revealed to finally realise what was wrong with me. I had put my tiredness and irritability down to having a lot to take in in my first few weeks and the university's penchant for 7.30am starts but it appeared loosing a substantial amount of blood and nutrients didn't help either. 

On the plus side, the incident has caused me to enrich my French vocab to include the word for worm (ver) and subsequently allowed me to name my resident parasite for the time being, 'Victor le Ver'. Fingers crossed the tablets work... sympathy postcards always welcome! 

Just shut up and drive!

After being in Martinique for a couple of weeks now I certainly think the transport here deserves a mention. The choices, being an island, are somewhat limited. As a non-driver, you can either pay over the odds for a taxi (and trust me, being white and foreign, we do) or risk life and limb taking the local bus. And what an experience that is.

We soon learnt that the bus timetables are purely for decoration and have absolutely no relation to what time the bus will come (and if it does whether it will actually stop or not). We’ve also finally come to the understanding that when a bus driver stops and waves his hand to the right he’s going to Fort-de-France (the capital city) and when he waves to the left, well he could be going anywhere. Because surely the bus number shouldn’t correspond with where the bus is actually going right?! Of course there are then those bus drivers who like to confuse (and scare the living jeepers out of non-local passengers) by driving along and pulling up at bus stops with both hands in the air singing about how beautiful Martinique is, the island of his heart. Unfortunately this has not been a one off experience but I think I am starting to become accustomed to it and have stopped gripping the seats quite so tightly and standing out like the epic tourist that I am. This is of course, if I can get a seat and am not shoe-horned in with a load of school kids, gossiping grannies or the inevitable weirdoes that just love talking to me on public transport “I can speaks ze English, what is your telephone for call you?” “Oh sorry I don’t have a number over here” (only a little lie)!

Hopefully some of the other ERASMUS students will be getting a car soon so we can all chip in for petrol and have an explore of this beautiful island without having to say a prayer to Saint Christopher every time we get on the bus. Although they do drive their cars like bumper cars over here so maybe that’ll be another story entirely...

Until next time, EmJx 

Bienvenue au Martinique!

Today was our first official day at L'Université des Antilles et de la Guyane (or The University of the French West Indies and Guiana for you Anglophones). The campus itself is absolutely beautiful to say the least, with views of the Caribbean Sea and mountains as well as palm trees and brightly coloured flowers, which I’ve been told can also be seen when staring out the window in class (I wouldn’t know because I concentrate 100% in class Mum, honest).

So at 10am, around 25 ERASMUS students (EuRopean Community Action Scheme for the Mobility of University Students for those of you not in the know) gathered in the international relations classroom for our ‘première rendez-vous’. There's people from all over here which is great: Canada, Czech Republic, Germany, America, Slovakia and the slightly closer Barbados, St Lucia and Jamaica (for those smart Alec's, yes I am aware half of these aren't actually in the EU). I even met some fellow Yorkshire-folks! 

So after about fifteen minutes of wondering what was going on and whether we’d actually got the right location, we met Madame Elisée who popped her head around the door to tell us they were just looking for the right forms, timetables (a watch?!) etc. and wouldn't be long. If I’d known this was going to be the reoccurring theme for the next few weeks, I would have just walked out that door to the beach and come back four weeks later (fully tanned) once the university admin staff had decided what was going on. Alors... we waited. And eventually met the staff who work (excluding two hours every day for lunch and most afternoons, ie when you probably will have the most free time to go to their office...) and were given some information about how the university registration works (mega jokes), a couple of tourism guides and some irrelevant module booklets. Half the students then got their registration sorted until 11h55, because gosh, you weren't expecting them to work in to their lunch break because they were late were you?!

So after returning to halls and finding out the majority of international students were living in the same building as me, I finally got my room changed to the first floor (less likely to have another 'flashing accident' there, although still no curtains). I'm now on a predominately foreigners' floor and have a balcony again, check out the view! 

So once all this was sorted, Nicola and I braved the trip to Géant, the French equivalent of Tescos. I knew it was going to be expensive but I wasn’t expecting to blow nearly 100€ on next to nothing. Even worse, the university halls’ kitchens include… some cupboards and a sink. And that’s it. I wasn’t exactly expecting masterchef but a hob or a microwave would have been nice! 

Guess I'll be leaving the baking skills til I get back to Bangor!
EmJ x

The day I flashed my boobs to the whole of the university campus…

I was so glad to meet some of the other students on the evening of our arrival before our induction at the international office at 10am the next morning (it always seems less daunting when there’s more of you in the same situation). We also made friends with one of the local guys after he came over saying he had never seen so many white people on the beach and had to see what was going on! I guess we kind of do stick out a little…

Thankfully, my French wasn’t quite as bad as I was expecting after being out of practice for so long and the German’s spoke such good English that we were able to converse in Franglais with the odd German word thrown in. I was so glad to finally be here yet I was so tired I couldn’t wait to get showered and go to bed. So Nicola kindly walked me back to the uni halls where I saw not one but two cockroaches in the hallway (eeep!) and then another half floated up through the plughole when I took a shower. Thank goodness I’m not squeamish…. much!

However I was so exhausted after 38 hours of travel and then an afternoon arranging accommodation and meeting some fantastic people that despite the heat (and a fear that cockroaches were going to eat me in my sleep) I was out for the count as soon my head hit the pillow. Although there was only one problem. My room had no curtains. Therefore this morning was… early. Thankfully I’d taken the eye-mask they give you on the plane so I managed to pop it on and roll over back to sleep without giving it another thought. However, when I woke up a few hours later I noticed a few things were wrong…

a) I could see. I was so tired I’d ended up sleeping with my contact lenses in. So not only was I squinting due to the bright sunlight pouring in but my eyes had now become a gooey red mess.
b) I could therefore see out the window. Which meant I could see the queue of students outside my window waiting to get to the hall’s office located just down the corridor from my room.
c) It was so hot. So I’d slept topless. And without sheets. And there were no curtains.

Now I’ve heard about making a good first impression, but waking up topless in front of a load of students I’m going to spend the next four months at uni with was not what I had on the top of my list. Sometimes I wonder what I did in a previous life to deserve this…

Embarrassed doesn't even cover it. 

Love, a bright red (and thankfully now fully-dressed),

EmJx

Update: latest news is that a British Erasmus student has been spotted stripping in public. And it’s in the local newspaper with pictures. Thank goodness someone is out there taking the limelight! Unless, oh it doesn't even bare thinking about. I need to get my hands on that paper!

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.

Coach trip!

So I've gone and done it. I've booked my flights from Paris Orly (it was considerably cheaper to fly from Paris than anywhere in the UK, and by considerably I mean over 70%) to Martinique with a generous 40kg of luggage. Although this then caused a logistical problem. How to get from a UK airport to Paris with 40kg of stuff when most airlines only allow 20kg and charge anything from a tenner plus for each additional kg? £200+ for excess baggage anyone? And no, there really isn't any way I would consider packing less!

So I've booked a place with National Express. For real. Setting off from Bangor (I'm returning to the land of my Father's for a few days before I leave), the coach collects extra passengers from Llandudno, Colwyn Bay, Pensarn, Towyn, Rhyl, Prestatyn (and even the Pontins at Prestatyn!) to name but a few, as well as various other UK cities, before changing coaches at London Marble Arch and arriving at Paris CDG 22hours later. Being the snob I am, I am not impressed and slightly hesitant about spending four hours in central London with all my bags given all the recent troubles. But I'll have my Heffs, iPod, plenty reading material and will get there eventually with all my extra luggage. And of course I have this to look forward to...

Ahh I think I'm just turning bitter and cynical in my old age.
It'll all be reet in the end :)

EmJx