Guest vocals to castration - what a day!

If I had known my day would include meeting some local big names in reggae, getting asked to do guest vocals and then shooting across the road to witness some stallion castrating... well, it would've been hard to believe when I woke up.

Regardless, we push on, onwards and upwards, and so it was that I found myself experiencing the first of several disappointments for my day off. The Skype date A and I had arranged never materialised because for some stupid reason, today, of all days, the internet at Seaside decided not to work on my computer. So I packed up and walked 20 mins to the nearest wifi place, which of course made me miss the boy by just 4 mins in the end. Turns out he had internet difficulties too, and was running around making his Help X host restart his router to make it work.

So that was that. I thought I'd get some more housework done before heading to the French side, since I didn't know what was happening with I, the guide from the French side I work with at Seaside. I waited FOREVER for a bus, it being a Sunday n all, and kept getting my hopes up with every people mover that drove by... alas, it was just Church groups ferrying their people from place to place. Unsurprisingly, none offered a lift and tried to convert me to their faith - it being pretty apparent I bat for the Rasta team (or so they think...).

When I was in Marigot, the main town for the French side, I saw everything was closed cos it was Sunday. But that was fine, since I didn't want to shop, just check out the side and how it differed to the Dutch. I didn't even notice when we crossed the border, there was no checks and I didn't see a sign. There is a monument but I wasn't really concentrating... So I squeezed out of the bus through all the church-goers, and wandered around looking for a beach.

What I found instead were some markets where I bought some nice Bolivian-style earrings, a small, half-decent beach, a rusty shipwreck, some cool little makeshift bars pumping loud reggae and a lot of brightly coloured iguanas scurrying around. There was definitely a different vibe here, even the men didn't really holler at me much like on the Dutch side. There was a European vibe to the air, helped along by strings of poissonneries and patisseries... like they'd just transported a little piece of France right here in the Caribbean.

The guy from work came to meet me in Marigot and we headed to where the buses pass towards the French Quarter. Except that, as a Sunday, none were coming. So we tried to hitch and then I's mate came along to save the day... he ended up being some local rapper and his music wasn't half bad. My mate mentioned that I could sing and the guy, who calls himself SM Soldier, says that he's looking for a female vocalist. So as we sat and smoked at a recording studio with Blunty, some of big rapper 'round here, I give him my details to send along any music or ideas he's thinking. Wonder if I'll ever hear from him... my mate reckons he'd call me into the studio just to see my face again! ha!

Then the call came from M, and my mate was summoned to a property to give a helping hand in some stallion castrations. Poor little foals, only 7 months and having their balls chopped off. But it's better than making babies unnecessarily. I wish more people would cut their animals' balls off and lessen the pile of unwanted pets wandering around the world. It was a ghastly process, really horrific for the horse as he was on his back with legs tied together and a rope constricting his neck should he fight back. But they are back with mummy now, a bit bloody but alive and kicking. Well, I don't think kicking will happen for a little while but they're in one piece.

The land the horses roamed was M's dad's land, with all these eery buildings that didn't look more than 5 years old but were derelict and didn't look like they'd ever been lived in at all. I asked about it and apparently it was meant to be a resort but the permit was denied. Another example of the politics of this island. What a waste of resources. Private beach, beautiful undulating hills, pretty little corner of the French side... would've been well nice to stay at.

Afterwards, we were shouted some dinner by M and I was driven pretty much home, which was lovely since it was the opposite end of the island and getting dark. The guys really take care of the women here in that regard, never let them pay for anything and always make sure they're safe etc. Chivalry is not dead here! Take note, bogan Aussies.