Our evening arrival in le petit hotel in Grand Case had one small drawback: we couldn't figure out how to open the door to the balcony. Come daylight, the mystery was solved when I discovered a length of wood blocking the rail on which the door slid. A rudimentary, but very effective locking system. Remove the wood and hey presto! the door slides open. Ho, hum. Anyway, it allowed us to eat breakfast on the balcony gazing out at the white sand, turquoise sea and blue, blue sky.
Later in the morning we took a taxi to La Lotérie Farm, a former sugar plantation which now has gardens, restaurant, a treetop assault course, and several marked walking routes through the forest towards the top of the highest peak on the island, Pic Paradis. We chose the latter. We didn't quite reach paradise but enjoyed a lovely three hour walk which included some stunning views of west, south and east coasts.
Given that the taxi ride had lasted barely five minutes, we decided to walk back to the hotel. We hadn't got far along the main road when a 4x4 pulled over and the driver offered us a lift. It was a mother heading home from church with her family. Eyeing the seven children already crammed in the back, we politely declined, but she insisted, so we squeezed into the back seat alongside four wide-eyed enfants and rode the last couple of miles to Grand Case. A true good samaritan.
In the evening we walked along the beach and eventually found the Zen It, the particular bar we were looking for. It was empty but open, but nontheless we walked in and dined on tapas accompanied by a magarita or two. And then we walked back to the hotel along the beach, on the way disturbing herons fishing by the light of beachside cafés.
The next day was the first of December and last full one of our holiday. We took another taxi ride into Marigot, the main French town on the island, wandered around the market, climbed the hill to the fort, wandered some more, and then decided to try catching a minibus back to Grand Case. Guidebooks informed us that one simply has to hail a bus heading in the right direction and hop on. The problem was we'd chosen a spot just past a large school, just after the end of the school morning. Thus every bus that went past was full to bursting. Eventually though, one did stop and we took the last two remaining seats. The $1 ride home was regularly punctuated by calls of 'stop please' to the driver. Then everybody between the alighting passenger and the door would get out and get back in again. Cheap and cheerful way to travel.
Back in Grand Case we ate lunch at a lolo - a local grill serving cheap, cheerful and plentiful food. Later in the afternoon we trekked up the hill to L'Esplanade, the sister hotel of le Petit Hotel, to claim our free poolside cocktail. Foolishly, we suggested the barman mix a drink of his own choosing for us, and then watched with growing alarm and anticipation as he added four different types of rum and a splash of fruit juice. Some time later we rolled glassy-eyed back down the hill, watched the sun set over the beach and managed to get out again for dinner. An earlier resolution to eat more cheaply went west with the sun, and we ended up in another of Grand Case's gastronomic establishments, where we enjoyed another delicious meal and a discussion of French and English football with one of the waiters, and finally endured a marriage proposal on the next table. Fortunately, she said yes and moments later was on the phone to her mum. Americans, needless to say.
And that was more or less it. On the final morning I fought my way through the undergrowth to the top of the hill at the end of the bay while la bienheureuse packed, we went out for one final beachside café lunch, and then it was time for the taxi back to the airport. Ten hours later we landed in Paris at five in the morning, and it was snowing. Still, at least we got home with all our luggage...
