HAUTE-TAILLE
In addition to bèlè, my host mom also dances another traditional dance of Martinique, called haute-taille -- literally, "high size." While bèlè has its roots in traditional African dance, haute-taille actually originated in Martinique. During the days of slavery, when the masters weren't around, the slaves would dress up in their Sunday best and try to imitate the slow, sedate dances of the white people. Haute-taille is accompanied by an accordion, and there's usually a guy calling out the steps, too. It's actually pretty hilarious to watch haute-taille, if you think about how it basically originated as a form of mockery, and how the masters had absolutely no idea they were being made fun of like that while they were away.
Here's a snippet from the haute-taille ball I watched several weeks ago. The costumes are my favorite part. Note the fancy-schmancy skirts, dresses, pants and straw hats.
BO LARIVIE
Two weekends ago, I went to what I guess is the equivalent of a Martiniquais amusement park. It was called Bo Larivie, which means "Not far from the river" in Creole. I went with my host sisters' dance club, which meant lots and lots of little kids -- who (let's not kid ourselves) were the park's target audience, anyway.
Basically, the "park" was a huge plot of land. There was a covered structure at the entrance with picnic tables, where we sat and an employee introduced us to the various activities you could do there.
First, we went on a hike. The trail was about a mile long, and at the end there was a waterfall. The guy told us that it was the widest waterfall in North America, which I'm not sure I believe, but it was quite pretty nonetheless.
Then, when we got back to the picnic tables, there were a bunch of games you could rent, like dominoes. Somehow I was recruited to supervise croquet, which basically consisted of me screaming at kids for a half an hour not to swing their mallets in each others' faces.
After that, we went "kayaking." There was maybe a fifty-foot stretch of river, enclosed by rocks, where the children tried to maneuver their little kid-sized boats against the current but usually just ended up wading in the water and pushing each other.
After that, we had a huge lunch. There was chicken and fish and rice and vegetables and sauce and about five different kinds of soda (banana, pineapple, orgeat, grenadine, and anice, I think), and for dessert there were these popsicle-like things with a fruity exterior and vanilla ice cream on the inside.
Then, I went swimming in the river. It was absolutely freezing compared to the ocean and there were all kinds of grasses and slimy rocks everywhere but I still had fun.
SOUND SYSTEM
A Sound System is basically an all-night reggae party. I'm not sure how else to describe it. I attended one last weekend, as a benefit for the St. Lucian victims of Cyclone Thomas (which killed 12 people in October). As an entry fee, you had to bring canned food or water.
The event was held in a house-turned-bar in Trois Islets, a city in the southern part of the island. There were some live artists who performed, but there was also DJ who alternated with the live performers. I'm no reggae connoisseur but after going that night, I can understand a little better why reggae is such a BFD here. The music is mostly in Creole but the parts I did understand, in English, talked about how we're all equal, that though we all have different skin colors, no one should ever be considered superior to anyone else.
The venue was crowded and unpleasantly smoky and I had to step outside more than once to breathe. We stayed until 4AM, and even then, the party was still going strong.
Here's a crappy picture I took, just to give you an idea of how dark and claustrophobic it was in there. The artist is the white splotch in the front.
LE CANAL DES ESCLAVES
The day after the Sound System, I went (on very little sleep) on a hike with my host sisters' cousin and a bunch of her friends. The hike, called Le Canal des Esclaves (the slaves' canal) was in the northern part of the island.
The entire walk was on a narrow pathway on the edge of a canal, apparently constructed sometime in the 1700s by Martiniquais slaves.
It was raining for a good portion of the hike, and so the rocks were slippery in some places. There were also parts of the trail where there was no barrier between you and the ground hundreds of feet below. You had to look straight ahead at all times so as not to lose your nerve. Or slip and fall -- which I did, once, into the canal, but luckily it wasn't very deep.
If you did want to look around, you had to stop. But it was worth it. I suppose it sounds cheesy, but I really did feel as though I were at the edge of the universe, standing on a precipice (I hate to use this word again) with nothing but trees and mountains and air and clouds and fantastic green all around.
So basically, it's really, really beautiful here and all y'alls should come visit me...
