If you or someone you love suffers from an allergy to French things/people — symptoms may include always talking about how they’d be speaking German if it wasn’t for us, or ordering “freedom fries” at McDonalds (really? still?) — Martinique may just hold the cure.
Not familiar with France’s euro-moneyed, snake-flagged, Caribbean adoptee? A quick 411: After being ousted from St. Kitts by the Brits back in 1635, French badboy Pierre Bélain, Sieur d’Esnambuc and 150 of his closest amis took control of the 436-square-mile island — much to the chagrin of the native Carib people who have to count themselves among those who’ve ever lost to the French.
Ever since, the place has remained one big bowl of charming Gallic grooviness, from the French-inspired local Antillean Creole lingo they toss around (which manages to sound even sexier than its parent tongue), to the island-Parisian fused cuisine, to the headless statued odes to Napoleon’s island-born wife, Empress Josephine (who, many Martiniquais believe, convinced the Little Corporal to bring slavery to the island — ergo, the no head thing), to cigarette-friendly, well, everything: restaurants, (unofficially) topless beaches…you name it, you can ash on it (Gauloises cigs are the local fave).
What Martinique’s French population lacks is all the stereotypical continental ‘tude all those Francophobes abhor. Martinique’s just proud — not chauvinistic — of its roots and not at all afraid to show it. Sadly, there are no direct flights from NYC, but American flies weekly from Miami to its capital, Fort-de-France (FDF to friends; sample winter fare from NYC is $665/RT). Once there, here are the island’s best.
Hotels
It’s easier to get into a Harvard final club than Relais & Châteaux, so when Cap Est Lagoon & Spa got punched by the luxury hotel cartel in ‘04, it was kind of a big deal. Well done, lads: Its 50 suites sport a sexy wood-meets-stone aesthetic on the inside, elegant red-roofed Creole architecture on the outside (opt for one with an outdoor shower and plunge pool), and the entire 10-acre property — whose centerpiece is a massive, Zenned-out infinity pool — is gently cooled by coastal trade winds all day, every day. You’re way, way isolated out here on a lush pocket of eastern coastline near Le Francois — and way, way happy about it (from $820/night; capest.com).
Packing kiddies? Way down south on Pointe Marin, the Club Med here — a k a Buccaneer’s Creek — is not the ménage-à-troising swinger’s party is was back in the day. It’s now a recently overhauled (physically and spiritually) family-friendly all-inclusive that caters to kids in a major way, from the wakeboarding/windsurfing/water skiing school to the calm, scuba-ready water at its doorstep (7 nights from $959/pp, clubmed.us).
Dining
If there’s one thing Yanks and Franks can both get behind, it’s that life without chocolate is — well, let’s just not even talk about it. And, like French West Indies alum St. Lucia, Martinique is making her own, home-grown. The chocolateers at Frères Lauzéa, in Lamentin, like shaping their mahogany magic into giant crabs and such. Come gnaw on a claw, then pair Lauzéa’s signature ganaches with some vintage rum, aged like scotch. On-site tastings are unofficial, but offered if you ask. So ask! (frereslauzea.com).
If you can’t manage to land at room at the all-too-literally named La Suite Villa hotel (only 6 of the suites, 9 of the villas), you can still pull up a chair next to the infinity-pooled terrace — which offers stunning views of FDF across the bay from its Les Trois-Îlets perch — for dinner at its restaurant, Le Zandoli. Chef Benoit Dang’s offerings tend to be Asiatic in focus, but he changes his price-fixed, 3-course menu every night, so it could be anything (keep your fingers crossed for the beef tenderloin). Buy some of that local art hanging on the walls, too, if your budget allows (la-suite-villa.com).
Play
Reckon they don’t call Martinique the “island of flowers” as homage to The Killers’ lead singer — this place is flora-tastic, head to toe. To see its brightest blooms, mosey on over to Jardin de Balata (six miles north of FDF) for an audio-gadgeted tour of the botanical gardens, designed by the horticulturalist who was born here, Jean-Philippe Thoze. Headliners include balisiers, hibiscus, South American bromeliads, roses porcelain, heliconias, anthuriums and wild orchids. For the more daring (and reasonably body-mass-indexed), the place is best seen by the those sky bridges swinging up in them thar trees (one at a time when crossing, please). Adults $17.40, kids $9.75 (jardindebalata.fr).
And oh, right, beaches! The most-trod upon are in the west around FDF’s bay — Anse-Mitan is best for yacht-peeping — or in the deep south near Ste.-Anne where you’ll find the ivory sands of Anse Corps de Garde and Les Salines. However, we found a great on-the-beach lunch spot called Le Petibonum in Carbet, up north, and crashed a poor French family’s ocean volley ball game (excusez!).
Culture
The island’s love-hate relationship with the forementioned Josephine — who was probably more Kim Kardashian than Michelle Obama, depth-wise — skews more loving at Musée de la Pagerie, birthplace of the controversial first lady. Inside you’ll find her kinda-creepy childhood bed, letters to her pint-sized beau and other knickknacks. It’s $6.55 to get in (+596-68-34-55). If you’ve still got Jo-Jo fever, go visit her bathtub way out on the other side of the island in the Bay of Le Francois (which she used except when Napoleon ordered her not to — the freaky deaky emperor, rumor has it, preferred his old lady as ripe as possible).
On a less cheery note, Montserrat’s not the only Caribbean island to have suffered volcanic discomfort — back in 1902, Martinique’s northerly Mont Pelée popped off and killed 30,000 people. Most were in the town of St.-Pierre which, now rebuilt, is home to the Musée Vulcanologique Frank Perret, on Rue Victor Hugo. Inside are spooky paraphernalia recovered from the pyroclastic disaster (human skull, clocks stopped at 8 a.m.) — admission is free and, yes, the volcano’s still active, so watch your back, Jack! (+596-78-15-16)