We actually arrived early, despite the luggage delay. That was you, Birdwatcher?

Among the luggage confusions that was dealt with was an embarrassing situation for the gentleman across the aisle from us. Apparently he had grabbed THE WRONG CARRY-ON when switching from his flight from Michigan to Toronto. A very stern Air Canada lady needed to know right away whether he was going back to Canadian Customs to pick up his carry-on and miss his flight, or forgo the bag and go on to SXM . He chose wisely, but I felt bad for him towards the end of the flight when he had nothing but Upper Peninsula Michigander-style clothes in which to greet the 30C weather.

Customs and Immigration was pretty quick. If you say "Good afternoon" in a deep voice and with a smile, and compliment the young lady's quite extravagant nails, things go very well. The luggage carousel, while being possibly the quietest operating such machine in the Western Hemisphere, took a while to spit out any luggage that looked like my wife's.

The fellow from AAA with the sign was no more than 15 feet outside the end doors of the terminal. His colleague William (who switched from English to Spanish to French with an ease that was truly impressive) whisked us over to AAA's new location in Beacon Hill, behind the airport. The crisis of not having our "Full Size" Nissan Versa available and having to replace it with a soft-top Jeep was okay with 18-yr-old car-nut Jacob. After 10 minutes of English-Spanish-French interchange, we were on our way. A Jeep, while a fun vehicle, only holds so much luggage, by the way, just so you know.

The causeway! Can you say "timesaver?" Though we were stuck on the bridge for a bit because a whole lot of people wanted to go right towards Cole Bay for some reason. Perhaps there was a big sale at JC Penney? We finally got going north-ish to Marigot. One word, "Carnivale." I am not sure I am spelling it right. Here I am trying to remember what road to take to the left to take me down to the marina and out towards GC and Orient bay. I have NEVER seen so many people, nor been subject to so many loud music systems in Marigot. I finally work my way through the anarchic traffic to the left turn that takes us down by the most expensive mall in the world and the marina, and allowing a great sigh of relief. We get around in front of the mall, and Fort St. Louis, and I am pointing out the rusty shipwreck to the boys that I lie they are renovating when I realize we're not out of the woods yet. The Gendarmerie has that waterside road closed for some other Carnavale (sp? better?) event. They direct us to a detour that what I would call a cow path, if there were in fact any cows on this island whatsoever.

I am in a Jeep, so I am kind of a master of space and time. Even so, even with superhero underpants, it is an Herculean task to wind ourselves back to the main road again. And it's slow. And there's another jeep that seems to be following us. For every remarkable cow-path Jeep maneuver I can think up, I am matched by the spectre Jeep. Getting from mid-town Marigot to the roundabout at the end of the town takes about 15 minutes less than forever. But we get there. And the other jeep is still on our tail. We drive up the hill, tell the kids about Friars, round the corner and up the next hill, tell the kids about Rue Pinnacle and Lotterie Farm. Down to the left, "Jacob, get ready to take a picture at the top of the next hill." Topping the hill, sadly that amazing view of Grand Case Bay is not so great to day with some cloudiness. Down the hill, past Grand Case, lots of congestion. Jeep is right behind us. This place sure is seeming busier, what has it been, two? No, three years since we have been here.

Through and past Grand Case - asking myself, how busy is it going to be tonight in Grand Case for Fat Tuesday? I have been looking forward to Tuesday night there for weeks. Carrying on, a quick stop at the supermarket. My son, sitting across from mea reading his book cannot remember the name of it right now. Having got up at 5, I am not even going to try. Spectre jeep follows us into the market parking lot! It is only by the most deft Jeep driving am I able to shake my tail.

The place Supersave or whateve, is madly busy, and we have no idea what we want to get. We get the basics, coffee, tea, peanut butter and jam and bread, some milk, a box of beer (Presidente, since you were wondering), water, Coke and whatever else. Remember what I was saying about luggage? Now we are squishing things into the Jeep with butter and a shoehorn.

The last leg of our trip. The few minutes from the Marche to Orient Bay. Goes quick, though everywhere you look there is more stuff I cannot remember ever seeing before, shops and such, and a pizza truck(?), and is that big restaurant over here completely new?

Left into Orient Bay now, the owner said first left, number XX. Looking for XX was unnecessary, as she was standing in the road just as she said she would be, and we ended up being there within a few minutes of my best guess. We rented a Villa from VRBO on fingers crossed, trusting that everything would work out. There weren't many - if any - rating anyplace about this particular villa.

So it turns out the reason that this place was not rated was because it had only been on the market this season. It is the owner's own home, and they intend to rent it out for high season only. Completely newly renovated, you could not hope for a nicer little place for our week here. Now that I see it, I think the price is a steal. The young couple – with possibly the cutest toddler on the planet – met us, showed us the home they were proud of, and entrusted us with two keys. I am sitting out on the terrace now, by the pool in the breeze, with the crickets chirping and the obnoxious motor scooters obnoxing, thinking that life could hardly be more perfect.

But wait! Before we get all warm and fuzzy, there is Mardi Gras in Grand Case! Well, first, walking form the airport parking let gets a fella hungry. An amazing vibe in the town, music, people, you know the scene, but SO MANY people. We amazingly got a table at Talk of the Town right away, shared it with some new friends from Milwaukee (not that I remember their names) and had a Lolo meal that I had been dreaming of for weeks. Leave it to my 18-year-old to point out that it wasn’t really all that great. Shut up, Jacob. It was great. BBQ Smoke, Painkillers, Mahi Mahi, and a band playing “No Woman No Cry” over and over again – what more do you want out of life?

After a supper that couldn’t be beat (phrase c. 1967 Arlo Guthrie) we couldn’t go all the way down the road, there were just way too many people tonight. We got as far as the Catholic church, maybe a little further, and had to call it a night. You just couldn’t breathe in the crowd. So we reversed direction and started the long, long tramp back to the airport parking lot. I was pretty happy to finally get back to the Jeep.

And now we’re back. I sat with my feet dangling in the pool, decompressing, breathing, listening, smelling the smells of this place I like so much. The first day – or 1/3 day was great. The rest of the week should be fantastic.

There is a funny story about figuring out how to lock the European lock on the villa. That’s for another day.

Time for bed.