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The ride to Saint-Marc was very unusual, as, with the exception of a gentleman who boarded after I did and alighted before me, I was the only passenger.
As I left Saint-Marc, the sky was cloudy and very dark toward the north. I felt that was not a good omen, but little did I realize what was to come. The cacti gave way to large trees, palms later joining the mix. The landscape became verdant with a lush understory of bananas, bamboo, ferns and large-leafed tropicals. House yards were festooned with vivid red hibiscus and creamy white daturas.
As we reached the high passes, the tap tap straining on the steep grades, the views across the valleys far below were breathtaking. Each curve blended into the next with frequent switchbacks and very few straight stretches. The greenery and the gloom added to my impression. Setting out on foot, I had no clear idea of where I was going and had lost my sense of direction, there being no sun to orient me.
Stopping to ask people directions to my intended initial destination of the city square, I was flabbergasted that no one seemed to know anything. Finally I found an old woman with whom my inquiries about the cathedral, a very prominent city landmark on the square, registered, and I set out in the direction she indicated. This makes finding things and calculating approximate distances very simple. Not having learned my Mole Saint-Nicolas lesson to carry rain-gear, by the time I reached the square I was soaked to the skin.