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Martinique, a lovely French island lying like a jewel in the Caribbean. The island is rumored to have been devastated by a volcano years ago. Legend says 30,000 people died, while the sole survivor was a man serving time in the island jail. On a day tour we were taken to his original cell.

The island has an area of black sand beaches where the volcano erupted, but there is also sand of pale beige. Visiting here was like being inside pages of a story book. Quaint houses, chateaus and villas colorfully dotted the landscape in colors of baby pink, banana yellow, and powder blue. No big city feel here, rather one seems to be in a village from the past.

Close by the dock where the cruise ships come in is a lovely park certainly worth a stroll. Men were playing chess on park benches. . .relishing in a quiet idyllic life. My eyes caught sight of flora not normally seen in parks in the states. Plants grew taller than humans, sporting large flowers of brilliant oranges and yellows. I was totally lost in the beauty of this island, as I made it through the park to the tourist shopping district.

Prices are super high! A box of corn flakes was advertised in a market window valued at nearly ten dollars! Everything imported is expensive, but you can barter. . .if you know the language.

The narrow busy streets wound this way and that between alleys and walkways with shop after shop. Of course Perfume shops are a big attraction, as you can have your own scent custom made.

So lost in the interesting sights was I that eventually I realized I'd lost my way. Upon approaching several people for assistance I soon learned, NOT A SOUL SPOKE ENGLISH! You know what they say about the French; if you don't know the language they are not very friendly. While you the readers debate over this stereotype, let me say I found it to be most true. No one was interested in my plight, not even the black people, for they spoke only French too.

I stood in the middle of a busy tourist strip with an eight year child by my side, as lost as I could be on an island in paradise, knowing my cruise ship was soon due to depart.

Like an aged tape recorder, covered with dust, the wheels of my brain began to fast forward information stored long, long ago from Freshmen French in high school. I was one of the poorer students in the class, but this was no time to rate myself, but to talk. Talking about needing the gift of the holy ghost to help me speak in tongues, I needed it now. Not mumbo jumbo that no one

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