Descriptive Essay

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             Directly ahead of you exists the scarcely inhabited mountainside known as Pointe Blanche. A partially paved road, infested with potholes and gravel, careens about the mountain as if it was vainly searching for its summit. If you were able to peer past the blinding power of the sun at its midday rise, you could partially see the west wing of the island's prison. A high wall, cracked with time and decorated with barbed wire, protrudes from the mountain's surface, causing an unsettling feeling which temporarily demands a mental gesture of gratefulness for your lack of third world restraints. .
             To your left, a narrow walkway, freshly cemented for use by tourists glides past a small, rocky bay created by the infinitively crashing waves of the ocean. On the outskirts of the bay you notice many small schooners being brushed aside by the wind taken water. A flock of seagulls soar overhead in desperate search of sustenance and you recall momentarily another segment of time in your life where you felt such freedom and content. You remember instantly how hungry you are when you realize that in the distance lies a competition of restaurants, surrounding the marina.
             After feasting on some of the island's delicacies, such as Maine lobster, mussels, and pan-seared scallops, you recede to the door that reads "Captains" for a post meal experience of delight. By now the sun has fallen some and the scorching temperature has now slightly subsided to perhaps 90 degrees. You partake in an after dinner stretch and proceed to wave down one of the island's many taxi cabs in the parking lot of the marina. An old European model Toyota minivan screeches to a halt only inches away from where you are standing. A greasy local gentleman steps out of the vehicle and without any form of proper acknowledgement, snatches your bags and tosses them into the van's tiny hatch. You now have no choice but to step in and hope for the best.