Two weeks in Martinique

It’s not so sunny in Martinique.

Having friends show me around Martinique certainly made my visit here all the more enjoyable. For a change, I didn’t have to wander the streets like a homeless person or sit alone at a bar each evening looking solitarily forlorn while reminiscing over previous adventures.

Not that everything was as delightfully entertaining as I would have liked. The weather certainly did its darnedest to put a damper on the fun, almost preventing my arrival altogether (Martinique was on yellow alert), and when I finally did settle down safely at the anchorage in Fort de France I was unexpectedly boarded by four burly customs officers while asleep. After questioning me and sifting through everything I owned with a fine toothed comb, they evidently decided I wasn’t such a bad apple after all and left me to return to my slumber.

Do you suppose I can ask them to put it all back?

Now I don’t begrudge “la douane” for doing their job, but imagine what it’s like having your bedroom invaded by strangers, and everything aboard turned upside down and inside out, especially when you’re so obviously innocent of any wrongdoing?

OK, perhaps I’m not that innocent, but I insist that I at least look it.

Are we all agreed?

Surely hoarding a tad more aged rum aboard than what’s usually fit for personal consumption isn’t a crime. What other souvenir was I expected to buy from these islands? Besides, I’ve promised to send a bottle or two of quality rum back to Europe, and it’s certainly high time I delivered…

Traditional yole racing is all the rage in Martinique

So what’s there to do in Martinique that isn’t yacht related?


Apparently Josephine wasn’t too popular back home.

Being a fan of intellectual pursuits (ahem…), of historical significance of course, I found this statue of empress Josephine rather fascinating. I didn’t know she was from these parts!

Apparently she wasn’t that popular here, or having the head removed from memorials is a Martinique tradition…

Not quite Brazil but who’s complaining….

Well then, who am I to defy tradition…