Each visitor has a play
a mad stream, some
flowing like water, some
staccato like an impression
of conversation, though take good
advice and refrain from
joining in, because this
will feed the flow to a
flood and then you are lost,
flapping lips, expressing
sympathetic denial, negation,
refusal, lots of things you
do not like to do, always
in the wrong, always
unreasonable, always
uncaring.
2300: Clock back another hour. GMT -5, 6 hours behind home (I think).
0600: Out on deck to see Point-a-Pitre. It looked more modern and less shanty-town-ish than Port de France. We came alongside.
0900: The taxi finally arrived after we had walked to the dock gates. First impressions were borne out when we reached Centre Ville - it is a beautiful city, with ornate balconies and canopies like New Orleans , well-paved streets and a general air of purposefulness.
We went to a cafe bar and I did my usual film-making technique of people watching with a camera. There were some real doozies, especially one Frenchwoman with a split skirt who looked 22 or 23 from a distance, but from close to was obviously at least twice that. She did her own performance which I didn't attempt to understand (I just go blank when I'm filming, I'm not there) to Tom and Peter and a table full of elderly Germans from a cruise ship which had docked just after us. The first German couple to arrive were very kind and bought an entire meal piece by piece for a white bloke (again in a strange mental state) who was obviously hungry.
So I started on the beer at 0910, but it's all part of the thing. Peter and Tom soon went on the rum again - apparently prices are significantly higher in Guadeloupe than in Martinique , but it's worth it. Then it got to be an issue of how we were to get back to the ship. There was an immensely complicated dispute between taxi drivers about who should take us which ended up with me chasing the taxi Tom and Peter were being borne away in, with no idea of where they were going. Very funny. We got back to the ship about 1135, 35 minutes late, and I found I had a voicemail reminder from the Captain. I apologised to the First Officer for our lateness, but we didn't leave for some time afterwards.
A DREAM WORTH INVESTING OUR LIVES IN
When we had dreams
that began in grey northern ordinary
and seized a known path
to more and new colours
that was the road we've taken
free rolling down the north-east trades
and this is where the dream went
and there it ended
unspecific
no timetables in paradise
perhaps it was to roam
but we would have said it was to be
a dream worthwhile enough to invest our lives in
trying to wring seaworthiness
from ancient frames
the workaday tools of someone else's yesterday
to be the new dream machines
for the young prepared to spend their youths
on dream coin
investing unique time in the non-specific hopes
that we can be cleansed of the crap we have attached
and live lives better than we are
through the one exceptional possession
to take us where we need no more.
It was a kind of death, and this is it.Due west, sunset fine on the starboard bow
disappearing fast.
Suddenly gloaming though the sun is fully visible.
Listening to Jimi Hendrix's 'Machine Gun'.
Mixed signals.
Launching out of the bay of islands
Seizing the opportunity for more south miles
Nearer and nearer the hot heart
following the sun on silver string
Too bright to see
A sun route
into the hot corner of the Caribbean
Crash and clash
Kalashnikovs of culture
all words in contention
let us dare to throw everything into the ring
and pick away, steal away by secret sightless night
having touched it, burned
but proud to show our marks
this is what we carry home
the searing knowledge of the routes of any search
but this time
we have not brought a serious enquiry
we are only visiting
we will come away,
our burns will heal
forgive us, at least we know
what we are lacking
we know there are big stakes
and games, though we do not know what they are this time
we will go home
and one day some of us will return
with terrible wounds to cauterize.
(FOR PAT)
Then sometimes it hits you -
the 'look at me, here!' moment
How did I cheat the fates
that would have me working in a Tyre Centre
On some go-nowhere circular road
to be here beneath someone else's sun
fueled by nothing more than a pen, a notebook and
four thousand pounds worth of video equipment?
the cheeky chappy
had the nerve to call himself an artist
then watched where the wheels might whistle
this world is too hot for this pale skin
but I bounce it off with mirrors
to confuse with shining faces
reflecting views of the world
in which I am not
and that is why
although I am tall
you think I am small
small Paul
sometimes I get these 'hah!' moments
so excuse me
I'm off for an unearned cup of tea
with teabags I have carried
Three thousand miles
And they are happy to be here too.
1330: We left Guadeloupe and pointed due west. Whew. Further and further from home. We have taken on the Caribbean now. It is stunning. And tonight - a barbecue.
0730: Ivan told us at breakfast that he had booked us a taxi for 0800, so things were a bit of a rush. I suspected after yesterday that, today being Sunday, most things would be closed anyway, and apparently there is nothing like a Sunday market.
0520: I went to bed early last night and woke early. We were approaching Guadeloupe along the coast of Grand Terre , so it was flat. More rainstorms in the night, and the decks were awash and slippery.
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