Saint Pierre - Saint of what?

Kel and I decided this cruising season will be dubbed “the favorites tour.” Several places we visited left us wanting to see more, hang out with locals, wander aimlessly, and perfect a Tee Punch.  After a few weeks of boat preparations, otherwise known as a hot sticky mess, we sailed twenty six hours north to our first stop on the tour, St. Pierre, Martinique. 

There is something that captures your imagination in this town.  Part French, part Creole, part African, the cultural mix is just pure fun.  You hear French pub music on one corner, North African rhythms in the market, and jazz saxophone coming from a 2nd story balcony. The food is fantastically French one day and spicy Creole the next. The wine and beer is cheap and always good. Croissants and baguettes rival Paris.

Mt Pelee / prison cell of lone survivor

Expats are welcome if you drop all pretense and expect to be treated like everyone else. You have to at least try to use their language. Most of the time this just makes them smile, and they’ll try their English on you as well. I remember reading about authors, poets, and artists escaping the rest of the world by hanging out in French Morocco.  I’m most certainly no Hemingway or Picasso, but St. Pierre just makes you feel like renting a room with a balcony to hang out and study their masterpieces.  That is if you can take your gaze off of Mount Pele or the beautiful bay filled with shipwrecks from the 1902 disastrous eruption.  It is humbling to hike to the top of this volcano and consider the 28,000 people who vanished in minutes. It’s an inspiring place.

Here’s a secret: if we ever need to run from the law and hide away for awhile, you might find us here.