The Elephant in the Room
Well, the provocation behind the French Empire is les rosbifs, of course. Or at least, our langauge. Because English is so dominant it has made the French absolutely positive that it must hang onto its overseas domains, no matter how many billions of euros they costevery year or how useless they are, in economic terms.
Any more arguments and the turtle gets it
So, how to entertain four children while going around the Francophone world looking at the sights? Read More…
L’Empire Strikes Back
Its official. The French are jolly happy to have their empire across the world. Alright, it may cost them several billion euros every year, and brings in practically zero in return (bar some fantastic honeymoon locations, and a rather nice heap of nickel from New Caledonia), but think of the glory of it all. Read More…
Cracks in the Edifice
Being here in French Polynesia, aka Paradise, takes some beating. There’s the emerald mountains, the boundless ocean, the oodles of tropical fish swimming around, and the perfect sunsets. Read More…
On the other side of the world
It was with some horror that I read today about President Nicolas Sarkozy collapsing in Paris after jogging alongside his amour, Carla Bruni. I’m fast becoming a Sarko groupie, frankly. Travelling around his vast overseas domains has made me something of a haplessly smitten fan. Not only do I fancy him, but I feel rather sorry for him – I mean, who would want to have a country as terrifying and sad as French Guyana on your in-tray of a morning? And as expensive? Read More…
Night in a prison cell
And so when it came to it, I couldn’t face it. Sleeping all night in a former prison cell of France’s infamous ‘bagne’, the prison of the penal colony for which French Guiana was renowned. Our room was a) windowless, b)airless and c) very haunted. There was a huge pit outside in which various caimen and iguana lurked. Alright, there was also a toucan there but even its bright blue feet couldn’t dispel the sure knowledge that all human rights had ended, for sure, right here in the Isles de Salut. Read More…
Iguana Tonight
Alright, so it goes like this. “Do come over for dinner tonight, Rosie. We are cooking a Guyanese delicacy.” Pregnant iguana, no less. A speciality for July and August, apparently, because the female iguana is full of eggs, slow and easy to nobble with a gun. Isn’t that a bit unfair,I suggest? Cue general laughter. Read More…
Welcome to Wild Guyane
This trip is getting stranger and stranger – a bit like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole. Take the familiar French DIY chain Mr Bricolage. Totally ordinary, everyday, suburban. The Gallic version of Homebase. It has transformed itself in my view. First, it was on the front of a giant shed selling barbeques and paintbrushes. Then, it was festooned on the sail of a Martiniquais ‘yole’, or crazy sail boat with no steering other than six or so logs onto which the sailors have to perch, dangling several feet above the water. The boat is sponsored by Mr Bricolage, you see. Now we are in Guyane, South America, what do you know but our friend Mr. Bricolage pops up again – this time within the context of a deep Amazonian forest, with giant butterflies, vultures and mosquitos the size of helicopters. Read More…
The sun never sets on the Tricoleur
The head of tourism for St Pierre, Martinique, pauses in his tour of the fomer capital city, largely levelled thanks to the eruption of Mt Pele, a nearby volcano, in 1902. We are going up the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ – or Rue de Ciel, so-called because there was a religious seminary at the top of the flight of stone steps. “And a lot of prostitutes too,” he jokes, “for a different type of heaven.”
Why working with children is a nightmare
“When can we go and play at Restaurants, Mum?”
No, I love our children. And OF COURSE I’m delighted that they are here with us. As I said to Mr Millard “just think – we have three months unlimited time with our children, how lovely, no nannies, no aupairs”…and then REALITY hit. Read More…
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