Some sort of scene out of South Pacific, my roommate couldn't wait to tell me who she had run into at the grocery store: a large, noisy and obviously American group of army men. I couldn't believe it. What were they doing here??? What could the US military possibly need from Reunion Island? Turns out fuel, food, and R & R. Or at least that's all they could tell us.
I finally had my brush with another group that night, walking home from salsa dancing. I'm not sure who was more surprised to see whom, but they seemed rather amused to run into a California girl on a tropic island in the Indian Ocean. The guys told me that their van had taken then from the port in Le Port and dropped them off in St Gilles for the day. While they waited for their bus home, they asked me what I thought of Reunion. I responded with a resounding "Love it," which they echoed, having sadly only seen St Gilles, which as close and dear to my heart as it is, is still nicknamed "z'oreille land" for a reason. It really makes you feel like you're in France, as opposed to the rest of the island where you have true Creole influence and people living there.
As amused as I was at meeting a few soldiers, the next day we kept running into them. I helped one order a sandwich, and ran into a few other guys on the beach who were playing "real" football (American style, not that silly soccer stuff). Most of them asked us how we liked it here, and of course, where all the good places to go out at night were.
It's just strange because when you stay here long enough, you forget what it's like to run into American tourists. Anywhere else, you name it they're there. But Reunion truly is a place for the French, and very few other foreigners ever venture this far away. Carrie seemed kind of frustrated, seeing all of these Americans invading our secret island. I just reminded her that as soon as she leaves, she'll see plenty more of them when she gets home. There are worst things in life. After all, who are we to talk anyways?
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