Following the Markets

Some might follow the stock market, I follow the fruit market. You know that when litchis are 1 euro/kilo, you've got yourself a good deal. When the mangoes rise anywhere about 3 euros/kilo, go home, cool off, come back tomorrow. Reunion Island is a festival of tropical fruit and I'm gonna make me a millionaire. December witnessed the start of litchi season, January, the heart of summer, is the season of passion fruit, bananas, pineapples, and mangoes. Everything is in abundance this time of year and I can't get enough.

La Roche Ecrite

There is a magical mythical place in the center of Reunion Island called the Roche Ecrite. If you have the wherewithal to start hiking at 4:30 in the morning, you might make it in time for a stunning view of this unique place which straddles two cirques, Salazie and Mafate. Looking down into one cirque is like looking down into the eye of the earth. Now TWO, that's more than an earthly man might be able to handle. My pal Anouk and I decided to give it a shot.

We started our hike from Dos d'An, north of La Possession, a quick and easy way to shoot into the cirque de Mafate. I parked the car in a residential area and we hit the ground running. As is always the case with the weather here, the mountains entrap clouds early on in the day, and once this happens, you can't see much. It's a race against time and we were already late. Added confusion abounded when we lost twenty minutes roaming around the little neighborhood looking for the path. Soon we found it and were on our way.

The early morning views were spectacular. Nonetheless, we started getting nervous when we asked someone how far to La Roche Ecrite and he laughed at us, shook his head, and walked away. The next person was more helpful, "At least 6 hours from here!" We had planned to do this in one day and started to feel the heat; time to book it. The trail was something out of a fairytale: we passed through secret mossy fields and across knife-head paths, sheer rock cliffs dropping from either sides. If we didn't feel like we were starring in the Lord of the Rings, we did by the time the fog started rolling in and everything became more mysterious.

This also unfortunately meant that everything became invisible. We made excellent time to our destination but it was not time enough. The tremendous view we had hoped to see was entirely covered with clouds and fog by 11AM. We did see the Roche Ecrite, or "written rock" which is a lovely slab of concrete with graffiti on it. If you are Philippe, Pierre, or Antoine, you have been to this place more times than is appropriate, and should stop writing your name--now. In any event, anyone planning this hike would be advised to begin in darkness or stay in the gite at Plaine des Chicos so you can get the sunrise view. That's what I will do next time...

Back down the mountain side completing our 24km hike with some very tired legs and a small twinge of disappointment, but mostly we just had fun. A great time that came to a screeching halt when we got to the car to discover that some trickster had stolen the hubcaps and popped a back tire. Thanks Dos D'an! Apparently this is a local pastime in the neighborhood; locals like to give tourists the run around. Moral of the story, avoid parking in this area.

There were some kids hanging out near the car and Anouk went over to try to scare them into confessing, but they were smiley and just offered to help us put the spare on. At this point my legs were rubber--every time I took a step, I almost fell down. It was embarrassing. Especially when I realized that one of the boys, Christopher, is a student of mine at Lycee Vue Belle. A small tire-popping world. Tried not to lose face by wiping out in front of everyone, but at this point the entire neighborhood had gathered around to watch us struggle with the jack. I gave tire-changing authority to a 14 year old boy because I no longer had control over my muscles. It was an ordeal, but what are you going to do. I was too tired to be indignant. As we were cruising out of town, a friendly neighbor flagged us down. The fire started growing in my belly when we were informed that it was my student and his father who vandalized my car. Not over any personal vendetta, but just a fun father-son activity when there's a visitor in town. I hope that sweet little Christopher is ready to write "I will not vandalize my teacher's car" 800 times on the blackboard...

Ma, I gots kittens!

The stray cat that lives in my garden had kittens a few weeks back, and what can I say, I've fallen pretty hard. Despite my unconditional love, it's a pretty difficult relationship, primarily because they are the most manipulative creatures I have ever met. They won't come round for days, and then suddenly they are standing in my window, mewing for my love and attention.

They're so flipping cute, what am I supposed to do? I go out there with some milk and a cuddle, and they just run away. I give them food which they gladly accept, and then nothing. Not even a purr. Bad manners! I'm also trying to teach them the ways of healthy eating, but they only accept heavy whipping cream, cheese, and fish skins. Hopefully they'll grow out of this stage; for the time being I'm trying not to judge.

It's Electric!

If you've ever spent any time in France, you know that besides cuisine, the favorite collective pastime is striking. People love taking to the streets to protest pretty much anything, and all the better if it results in major infrastructural mayhem. As a student in France, I once missed two months of classes because my university was on strike. The doors were piled high with desks and chairs, bonfires lit up the campus, and students who might not have actually known why they were striking in the first place, guarded the entrance to keep classes from taking place.

At the beginning of January, Reunion Island's power company went on strike. This resulted in staggered electricity outages around the island. First the West would be without power for 2 hours, then it would flip to the East. On and off every two hours, this continued for three days. Frankly I was impressed, primarily by the fact that no one batted an eye at the oddity of it all. By the third outage on the first day, I was going mental. Any kind of business--the grocery store, post office, or pharmacy, would open-close, open-close because as soon as the power was out, their computer systems went down. We lived in two hour surges of hustle: electricity back on-- RACE TO BUY TOILET PAPER. While it was down, I would cut a large pile of vegetables. The second power was back: RACE TO COOK DINNER. GO. stop. GO. stop. GO. Days of panic ensued.
On the second day of this madness, I was invited to my pal Susie's for a dinner prepared by her man friend, Joann. As soon as I arrived, BAM. Electricity down. Thanks to our head lamps (best purchase of the year), we were able to continue kitchen prep. Unfortunately, after that was done, we had nothing to do but sit twiddling our thumbs until electricity popped back on at midnight, enabling Joann to carry on with his culinary genius. We ate late into the night, alternatively by candle light, then lamp light, depending on what was happening with the power grid.

In the days following the strike, long after the nightmare was over, I couldn't stop twitching in nervous anticipation of another outage. The scarring was profound.

2010 Out with a Bang

The end of 2010 was a whirlwind of celebration, only natural for a year that was so great. For his birthday on the 30th, Radical Tom wanted to jump off of a cliff. I don't really know what compelled me to join him, but before I knew it, I was strapped to a stranger named Laurent at a point 800 meters above St. Leu. Parapente is a local pastime here; every day the sky is littered with paragliders springing from high places and lazily wafting through the sky.
Ours was a sunny afternoon tour from high above, much more peaceful and lovely than a parachute free fall would have been. We jumped from a little launch pad, easily took flight, and were instantly above it all. The best part was flying over the ocean and seeing the coral reefs far below. The water was so crystal clear, you could see down to the very depths of the water. Landing incited a little bit of nausea in all of us, but we were too aglow to care very much.
For New Year's Eve we headed to the beach. Knowing what I know now, I am going to say that I'll stick with a snowy cold Christmas. However, the beach for New Year's is definitely the way to go. A friend organized a great party at Trou d'Eau and we danced the night away under the stars. Somewhere along the line there was supposed to be a cookout, but it seems like everyone ended up drinking their dinners instead. Just kidding, ma!The best part of the whole night was midnight. Fourth of July in the U.S. would have been put to shame by the Reunion Island fireworks display. The week following Christmas was the fireworks bazaar; every street corner had its guy selling rockets, roman candles, and pretty much anything you can imagine that might possibly shoot your eye out. The result is that every man woman and child was in possession of dynamite when the clock struck twelve. We're lucky to still be here today. Hundreds of Magic Lanterns lit up the night sky, the crowds of people along the beach were cheering: it was a feast of light and love.

Dear 2010, I was quite fond of you. But 2011 seems to be able to hold its own..