Chapter 8
Monday July 25th – Tuesday July 26th
Monday July 25
After another day on the beach, we made a return trip to La Main a la Pate this evening sitting out nearer to the water, just as we prefer. Maude welcomed us like old friends. “I have your special table waiting for you!”, she said with a big smile. After seating us, Maude stands, leaning on a lamppost in front of the restaurant, looking down the marina walkway for business. As usual, she kept a steady stream of customers coming in as we sat at our table enjoying the ambience of the shimmering water, the stars above in a cloud broken sky and people-watching while we ate another excellent meal. The staff was particularly entertaining tonight, joking with the clientele at their tables and with one another.
Down the walk to our left, the crew on one of the fishing excursion boats was cleaning up before going home. They placed a very large fish, about 2 ½ feet long, head first into a discarded cooler on the dock. We thought it odd, but as soon as they left a cat pranced into view, no doubt thinking it tasty. The feline stood up on back legs sniffing at its potential dinner for the evening and seemed to be sizing up the best way to begin the feast. Maude came by our table and watched with us. I said to her, “That cat thinks it died and went to heaven.” “It is Christmas time!”, was her reply. One of the waiters said they had done that before and a cat wound up head first into the cooler with the fish. Passersby did not seem as entertained at the sight of the cat fishing in the trash, so our waiter walked down and shooed it away.
In keeping with the festive mood of the staff at La Main a la Pate, we witnessed a new approach to the serving of coffee flavored rum at the end of dinner. Shot glasses were lined up along the table, each filled with rum, and then Maude would take both hands and beat in time on the table as she sang a verse and chorus of Queen’s “We will, we will rock you!” Her charming French accent added to the fun of the song. Then she would bend forward over the table, take her shot glass in mouth, tilt her head up and back and gulp in the rum, without hands! Sometimes, patrons would try the same with varied degrees of success. It was another wonderful evening at La Main a la Pate; we would be back again for more.
Tuesday July 26th
We signed up for the Tiko Tiko cruise today after reading many positive reviews; most saying it is the best catamaran venture on the island. Our favorite thing to do on cruises we have taken is at least one, sometimes two, catamaran excursions. We love sitting at the front of the vessel, usually leaning back against the front outer wall of the cabin area where we can experience the sensations of sun, wind and sea spray. On occasion we will lie upon the netted area at the front of the craft, which gives one the added excitement of the sea streaming below as the vessel cuts a path toward our destination. We were very new to the clothing optional aspect of St. Martin, so we did not know if we would feel comfortable in such close proximity to others on a catamaran, but we were willing to give it a try.
I signed up the day before at Papagayo Restaurant. There is a sign-in table for the various trips offered on the Tiko Tiko at the back of the restaurant to the right of the bar. Our cruise would cost $95 each and I indicated we’d pay with a credit card. When we arrived at Papagayo a little before 9am Tuesday morning, I walked back to the Tiko Tiko station and was met by a very striking young lady dressed in a bikini top and sarong. Her name was Melanie and she greeted me enthusiastically with a smile, took my credit card payment and instructed us that our cruise would leave shortly. We decided to enjoy a cold bottle of water at one of the tables at Papagayo’s as it was already growing hot and we were quiet thirsty. As we sipped our drinks, we could see a gathering of people outside looking out at the catamaran. These were our fellow passengers for the day; a mix of mostly couples and one family of husband, wife and two young boys. In total there were about 12 to 14 of us, plus the captain, Phillipe, and his first mate Melanie. I wondered if they were a couple or possibly even married.
Phillipe brings a dinghy to shore from the catamaran and ferries four passengers at a time back to the vessel. We were the last to go. I helped Marilyn into the small craft and then another couple climbed in after us. “Hello” they said as they introduced themselves. “Hi, I’m Marilyn and this is Bob”, my wife was quick to respond, to my dismay; I wanted to introduce myself as “Gilligan”. We pulled up to the rear steps of the Tiko Tiko and climbed aboard with the helping hands of Phillipe and Melanie. I walked down across to the other side of the ship and as I passed the wife of the family that came onboard I remarked with a feigned look of surprise,” Is this a clothing optional cruise?” As it turned out, the family was German and though they spoke excellent English, I think my joke was swimming upstream against her German mind trying to decipher the humor. She had a wide and beautiful smile, reminiscent of Carly Simon, and laughed when I indicated I was only joking.
Swim suites were stored away and I made my way to the front while Marilyn decided to stay sheltered for a while in the shade of the cabin area. Those who arrived first had settled upon various parts of the deck waiting for the ship to proceed out, making its way to the left of Green Cay and onward toward Tintenmarre, an island off the north east side of St. Martin. Soon, Melanie, sans sarong and bikini top, was preparing the craft for departure and then once we set sail she went about asking each of us what we would like to drink. Drinks are provided onboard and I thought it best to start out with a diet coke this early in the morning.
No one ventured onto the netting and I wasn’t game yet myself, so I took up a spot on the cabin wall. This was truly a new experience of sun, wind and sea spray. I enjoyed the rolling and lilting of the catamaran upon the waters off St. Martin. Cay Verde (Green Cay) slid by to our right against a backdrop of puffy clouds that rose high into the sky with varying shades of white, grey and dark grey developing as they moved our way. I wondered if we would be caught in a storm. I went back to the cabin to see what Marilyn was up to and watched as Phillipe contacted someone on his radio. He was speaking in French so I could not understand the conversation, but again wondered if he was taking note of the clouds looming in the distance. He did not seem bothered and afterward simply turned to us, asking if we would like another drink. This time I decided on rum punch, as did Marilyn.
The Tiko Tiko now rolled and swayed in the waters and the increasing wind but the day remained sunny and clear. Those onboard began to get to know one another through conversation as we drew near Tintenmarre, a small rocky island. It has a nice, sandy beach and nearby is a rocky cliff where we were told was the best place for snorkeling. Another amenity, the soil that smells of sulfur and useful for the famous mud baths. As we anchored, we noticed a few other craft had arrived before us. I remembered taking a catamaran excursion to this island when we were on a Royal Caribbean cruise. As we were swimming, another catamaran, probably Tiko Tiko, pulled in and I remembered thinking “What in the world?” as I noticed that the passengers were all, as my daughter used to say when she was about 4, “Butt naked!” Now, here we were and I honestly don’t know what the big deal is all about this side of the bathing suit. But as we anchored, jumped into the water and made our way to shore, about 15 suited, mud covered tourist came out of the brush. Many stopped dead in their tracks when they saw us, particularly one lady who looked in her 70s. She stood there, so still and staring, that I wondered if she had had a stroke and died standing. At first, both of us felt a little uncomfortable, as we had grown accustomed to the security and safety of Club Orient’s beach. Soon, however, we didn’t give a rip and paid no attention to our fellow visitors to Tentenmarre.
We spent a lot of time floating on the rafts provided by Phillippe and Melanie and talking to the friends we had made on the way over. Several took turns going in to the beach where Phillippe had set up two coolers under a tarp tent holding a variety of drinks packed in ice. We’d collect the drinks and wade back out into the water delivering them to thirsty bathers. Some preferred lying on the beach soaking in the solar warmth and soon the subject of the requisite “mud baths” came up. Having seen the grey, brown coated band of people come out earlier, we presumed that the baths could be found by walking the path back into the brush. We enlisted volunteers for this expedition and 8 of us made our way back beyond the beach and down the path to the mud baths.
When mud “baths” are talked about, you assume “bath”. What you find is an open area that had several large pits of dry, grey-brown dirt with a slight sulfuric odor. There was a 3’ diameter puddle of mud in one of these pits, created when someone carried back a bucket of sea water. I wondered, “How are all 8 of us going to fit in there?” Obviously, the mud is scooped up by hand and applied to the body. “Who’s first?” someone asked. I stepped toward the “bath” and reached my hand in the 5” deep puddle of silky, warm goop and began to apply it. Alternately, I helped Marilyn until we both looked like two chocolate dipped soft serves; only our “chocolate” was a bit pale. It doesn’t take long for the mud to dry and you feel the pull of contracting dirt upon your skin. If you coat you face along with your body you might pass as an alien. I stood there, face the group and remarked, “Phone home!” with an E.T. squeak.
The rest of the group applied their personal mud finish amid laughing and a variety of joking comments, and then we walked back to the beach, some with arms raised in mock zombie posture. The promise seems to be that when you rinse off the veneer of caked muck the skin becomes silky smooth, which it did! However, I thought that might only be in comparison to how it felt before you rinse; but I am a mud novice and will leave that to the experts. All in all it was a lot of fun and did serve to deepen camaraderie among our new made friends.
Phillippe told us when we disembarked for our jaunt on the beach that lunch would be served at 1pm. Like clockwork, he rang the ships bell and we paddled our way back on our floats and sat around a table set up at the rear of the catamaran under a tarp that kept the sun off while we ate. When you sign up for the ride you indicate a choice of fish, beef or chicken. I put us down for the fish and was so glad I did, as it was one of the best meals we had on our St. Martin vacation. The dish, served by Melanie, was perfectly cooked and swimming in a light butter and tomato sauce. Phillippe served white or red wine and made sure our glasses were always full. We talked and laughed together and I mentioned to Marilyn that this was a wonderful choice for our day. Desserts were served and then we dove back into the sea and swam to the beach where some napped under the tarp, others snorkeled or floated again in the ocean. Melanie produced a bucket filled with mud and offered it to everyone for another body wash. Most everyone repeated the experience and then it was time to return to Club Orient.
On the trip back, the sun, drinks and activity had tired me enough that all I could think of doing was laying face down on the netting of the catamaran. I did not nap but was mesmerized watching the water zip by only a couple yards from my face. I stayed there until I sense we were slowing to anchor and as we departed company with our day long acquaintances we were very glad we had decided to take the Tiko Tiko and would highly recommend it.
We did not have much time for a shower and nap but managed to get both in before meeting with our newfound friends Mike and Sharon, whom we met for breakfast a few days earlier. We met on the beach one day and made plans to go out to dinner. Sharon thought she’d like to try La Main a la Pate as we had spoken so highly of it. We met at the front desk of L’Hoste and drove to Marigot. When we arrived we received the warmest welcome from Maude. She literally scurried out from inside the restaurant when she saw us, sat us in our favorite location and proceeded to give me a back rub. I enjoyed the favor but winced a bit as she kneaded my sunburned shoulders. We then enjoyed another scrumptious meal and wine with Mike and Sharon, then sang, “We will rock you” to the thumping of Maude’s palms on our table. As we left we warned her that we had decided we should try another restaurant while on this vacation but we would be back again before our trip ended. She managed an artificial pout at the idea and then let us know, smiling, that we would always be welcomed.
To be continued……
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