Chapter 10
Saturday July 30th
The morning sky gave little evidence of the deluge we experienced the previous evening. Deep blue sky and a scattering of puffy white clouds greeted us as we walked down orient beach toward our usual destination among the yellow umbrellas. There was usually a steady breeze coming across the sand directly at us as we strolled down, dodging the occasional child running to or from the surf. Beach attendants were setting up the last array of lounge chairs and umbrellas as we approached Baywatch. On previous mornings, Andy could be seen sitting at a table drinking a bottle of water, alternately glancing toward the sea and then back again, talking to whomever happened to be eating at the time. Baywatch was now closed. As we looked up into the dining area I realized it would be another year before we’d enjoy their tasty food and warm company. Unfortunately for us, but fortunately for Andy and Cheryl, they were preparing for renovations to the kitchen and then a long anticipated trip back to the States, New Jersey to be exact. Andy had reminisced one afternoon, as we ate a fantastic lunch of margarita wings with Presidente beers, about high school and growing up in the 50’s and how things were so different back then. He also spoke about of looking forward to his vacation in September. The news about Baywatch closing was not a surprise to us, as I had read on TTOL of the impending development, but we had so enjoyed every meal we ate there that we now wondered what we were going to do. Andy gave us a few suggestions, which we investigated in the days to come.
This day would be spent as others were: lots of sun, wading in the beautiful, warm water, floating on noodles and sitting under our umbrella, reading a book or listening to our iPods. We intentionally chose a set of songs for our days on the beach and on more than one occasion listened to them while watching the waves roll onto the sand and the clouds slip by in the distance. These tunes included: Big Time by Big and Rich, Some Beach by Blake Shelton, No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems by Kenny Chesney, Kokomo by the Beach Boys, Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffett and of course Pour Me by Trick Pony.
There was a changing of the guard at the Perch bar on this day. Previously, a very friendly and efficient woman (sorry, name?) was tending bar when we stopped in for our two drink happy hour. She never wrote down what you ordered and I wondered, as I watched her work, how she ever remembered who had what. It was an honor system I supposed, but with the number of drinks a few patrons downed, I wondered if honor would have a memory when it was time to pay up. This gal was also going on vacation for several weeks and her replacement today was just as proficient. He indicated to us that Papagayos would soon close for renovations and meals would be available here at the Perch for a short time. We weren’t sure how that was going to work as the guy with the grill was also leaving for his vacation and there isn’t much of a kitchen that I could see, for preparation of meals. We never made it back for a meal at Perch, so we are not sure how it all worked out.
A full day of beach activity and gravity had tired us. We arrived back at L’Hoste, showered and took a long nap. Every morning when I’d rise, and after these occasional afternoon naps, I would walk to the curtains we had drawn across the double glass door windows looking out to our balcony to see what the weather was doing. Our nap was rather long on this day and when I drew the curtains back I could see the sky had clouded up a bit and was already beginning to move toward twilight. We decided that the long day dictated dining nearby, so we dressed and walked down our stairs, through the trail leading out to La Playa and Bikini Beach bar, turned right toward Planet Orient and the gathering of shops and restaurants in the village area. We decided we were not in the mood for pizza, so we moved past Tap 5 and crossed the street to Fish Bar and the restaurants around the square in front of Alamanda. Nothing seemed to catch our fancy so we decided to go back to our room, after purchasing a loaf of French bread, and have a dinner there of cheese, salami, apples, bread and wine…followed by a piece of chocolate. We spread our meal out on the bamboo coffee table as the rain began to fall outside on our balcony. It poured steadily and increased with intensity as we finished our dessert. It turned out to be another tropical wave that carried less lightning and thunder but much more rain than the storm we experienced the night before.
We did not want to sit in our room all night, so we waited for a lull in the rain, and rushed out toward Bikini Beach Bar where we had enjoyed a margarita on a previous occasion. There were only two other customers, sitting at the bar, and as we entered the owner told us that they were not serving dinner that evening due to the impending storm. She was sending her waitress, who was very pregnant, home early to avoid any problems while driving. We mentioned we had eaten and were just wanting to enjoy a drink. As we sat there looking out into the darkness of the evening, the rain again picked up with intensity and made everything seemed very damp and wet. The wind increased and we thought, after our drink, that we probably should head back to our room and retire for the evening.
It rained heavily on the French side that night, but the Dutch side would feel the brunt of the storm. Inadequate drainage contributed to flash flooding. At least two people were killed when caught in the runoff from the mountains. Amazingly we were not aware of what happened until we read the paper on Monday morning. One story in particular was heart wrenching. A young 30-year-old woman, Ingrid Maccow, was driving with her cousin in Saunders when she was caught in a flash flood. She called her mother on her cell phone to explain that the rushing water had trapped her when a garbage bin hit and pinned her car. She explained over the phone that the car was filling up with water and the locks of her doors would not open. She told her cousin to climb out and that they were coming out opposite sides through the car windows. Her cousin reported later that he grabbed a tree and held on but when he looked back he did not see Ingrid. The last thing her mother heard Ingrid say on the phone was, “I’m getting drowned mommy”. The current of water had caught her and washed her away. The Daily Herald reported that when the mother arrived on the scene, where they had found Ingrid, she said, “I recognized her by her foot. She was full of mud, but I knew this was my child. I couldn’t leave, I stayed and cleaned her face.” I read that story with tears in my eyes, as I have a daughter Ingrid’s age and could not imagine hearing those last words over the phone. I was reminded that what is a beautiful vacation paradise for so many of us, is home for the thousands of island residents we meet during our time there. Island residents who represent families of fathers and mothers and children and cousins; and I grieved for that mother and her child.
Sunday July 31 – Wednesday August 3
On Sunday evening we chose to eat at Cote Plages in the square across from Tap 5. We sat at a table on a corner of the open dining area next to an older French couple. They were sharply coiffed and dressed impeccably, which gave an air of class, but were devouring their meal as though they had just returned from being stranded on a deserted island and hadn’t eaten in weeks. It was almost comical, but I was glad when they finished as I was wearing a light colored shirt and did not want anything splashed on it. To my dismay they ordered dessert, which fortunately was of a consistency not to render anything airborne.
We ordered our meal of pasta and seafood and while we waited enjoyed bread and butter with a very good French red wine. The French couple left, my shirt survived and our entrees arrived. We were taken back at the size of the portions. Each dish of pasta, cheese, scallops and shrimp in a light tomato basil sauce was presented in a deep crock, which held enough for both of us to eat. It was very good and was compliment perfect by the French red. As we enjoyed our meal an extended family approach the restaurant of 8 adults and 6 children, boys and girls ranging in ages from 3 to about 10. We could not understand a thing they said but were very familiar with the interaction. The parents and grandparents sat at one table while the children sat around another. When their meals came out it wasn’t two minutes before one very cute little girl about the age of 7 came over to her Daddy and seemed to be complaining that she did not like her meal. She fussed and moaned and finally the exasperated Father said something back to her in French that, though I do not know the language, I understood completely to mean….”Knock it off!” After we dined, we sat on a bench together watching a group of men play bocce ball in the dirt that was the square. On another evening, before they left for home, we enjoyed sitting on a bench with Jeff and Linda, sharing a bottle of wine from our rooms. I would miss them when we left but we talked about meeting again for a future vacation. Something that I hope we can do sooner than later.
Monday August 1st was probably the most beautiful day of our entire vacation. The sky was perfectly clear with no evidence of the haze of humidity that cloaked the island on most of our days. It turned out that the French family we saw at the restaurant the night before was also staying at L’Hoste. On our last morning of our vacation, we ate our final continental breakfast at L’Hoste and afterwards Marilyn mentioned to one of the women that we were leaving and wondered if they would like our noodles. They gladly accepted and the kids, who were already swimming in the pool, seemed very pleased to get them.
Tuesday August 2nd was our last evening before leaving and we had to make one last stop at La Main a la Pate at Marina de Royal in Marigot. For the first time, Maude greeted us both with the traditional French kiss, one on each side of the face. We let her know that it was our last evening before going home. She and her husband, one of the waiters at La Main, would be going to Australia for a vacation and gave indication that they might even stay there if the opportunity arose. We did not like the idea of La Main a la Pate without Maude but she said it could turn out that they would be there when we returned next year. We enjoyed another wonderful meal in an atmosphere that was more subtle and low key, fitting for our last evening at La Main and on St. Martin. After the complimentary coffee rum drinks we paid our bill and I made a point to go back to the bar, where the owner was, to tell him how much we loved his restaurant, the waiters and that he had a gem in Maude. We embraced Maude to say good-bye and it was evident, from a tear in her eye, that she had enjoyed our company as much as we had enjoyed hers on the evenings we were there over our 17 day vacation.
Our trip home was smooth and effortless, though long with a connecting flight in Charlotte. We are indelibly hooked on St. Martin and cannot imagine going anywhere else for a vacation. We are smitten by her and look forward to another trip in 2006. I hope you have enjoyed these chapters. It has been fun for me to share our experiences with those of you who took the time to read them. Hopefully, in the future, we may run into each other on Sint Maarten/St. Martin.
Bob
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