St. Anne in Martinique has always felt like one of our special places. In the evenings we took the dinghy to the jetty and walked into the little square where all the kids played together under the warm glow of the streetlamps. The church bells would ring in the background, soft and steady, while people wandered past us and the cool breeze drifted through the trees.

In the mornings the whole town smelled like fresh French pastries. The air carried that sweet, buttery scent that reached us before we were even awake, and it always made the day feel gentle right from the start.