Hi there,
Here is part one of our report on our impressions of the wonderful villa we rented on SXM the week of June 23rd to June 30, 2007. As usual, what follows are my recollections based on my observations alone. If you rent this place, you may experience something entirely different. I can’t help that. If I could I’d have the power to make people look beautiful in scuba gear… and I’d be rich…
With that out of the way, I present for your enjoyment and resource planning, part 1 of…
Coral Breeze - The Villa
To paraphrase General MacArthur to the students at West Point “…and whenever I do make that final journey across the river, my last thoughts will be of the Villa, the Villa and only the Villa…” Well, okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I really did like the villa.
When Sonia and I travel, something that’s really important to us is to be able to have some privacy. Extra room, a full kitchen and a place where we can relax and enjoy the view are also a plus. It was with that in mind that I began a search for lodgings when we decided an island-based trip was what we needed. We booked the villa known as Coral Breeze through Island Properties Online before I discovered TTOL. Actually, once I found TTOL, I started to become concerned when I delved deeper into the forum and found large numbers of posts regarding various regular properties, timeshares and villas, but almost nothing on Island Properties Online. The few posts I did see, though, were all in favor of the service given by Sonja Van Der Drift (through whom we had booked) and I could certainly back that up with the correspondence she and I had already entered into. I was also worried when I discovered, through TTOL, that there was a construction project going on at the Caravanserai hotel just nearby. I had visions of our days being disturbed by the sound of jackhammers and power tools. Some forum members helped put my mind at ease on that one and I was eventually able to confirm what they had told me about what a “construction project” actually means in some instances on Sint Maarten. In addition, I saw through Google Maps hybrid view that the place was really right next to the airport runway landing zone and I began to think about asking Sonja if we could move to another place. I’m so glad I didn’t!
In her final confirmation email to me, Sonja told us that Cynthia, her representative, would meet us at Paradise Island Car Rental when we arrived. Sonja’s office was “all the way across the island” at Dawn Beach and so it wasn’t possible for her to meet us or practical for us to go all the way there only to have to go all the way back to the Villa, which is right next to the airport. Meeting the representative at the car rental place seemed a curious arrangement but it was okay with us. It occurred to me, though, that it might be a good idea to have Cynthia’s cell phone number just in case Paradise Island Car Rental decided to go out of business the day of our arrival or their in-airport personnel were too busy hijacking luggage from other unsuspecting travelers to notice us. After all, it’s just possible they wouldn’t have recognized me as a returning celebrity (see my earlier posts) and then where would we be? Sonja had provided the number.
As it was, things worked out fine and we didn’t need to call since we indeed met up with Cynthia at the car rental office. As with others we encountered, she seemed to regard us the way children do when they encounter a strange and somewhat frightening creature at a zoo. That was okay with me since I tend to have that affect on lots of people. “Ooh look! Make it talk! Feed it something and let’s see what it does…” “Hey Bucko, here’s what I’ll do if you try and feed me that thing…” Whack! Cynthia didn’t feed me anything but, after we had completed the minimalist rental arrangements with the car rental folks, she did lead us in convoy to the little hamlet of Beacon Hill and our villa.
Having just arrived on the island, and after the mind numbing of the customs line, we are, of course, still trying to take in all of things there are to see now that we have actually been deposited in this strange new place. I don’t know about you but, when I go somewhere new, I go into sensory overload just trying to absorb everything I see and hear. We drive out of the car rental agency and a large aircraft zooms overhead as I check out the cornucopia of storefront signs while I’m trying not to kill a guy on a bicycle riding in the middle of this strip that passes for a main road (we saw this a lot) and I’m simultaneously trying to avoid vehicles that announce their intention to enter the roadway simply by backing straight out of their parking space into the oncoming traffic, right in front of you. Time to go! He’ll let me in… Zoom!
I’m trying to keep an eye on Cynthia’s car, get to know the little Tieros and its many feature (I can’t remember the last vehicle I had with roll-down windows – what have we become?!), as well as look out for various landmarks I thought I would have been clever enough to recognize from my TTOL research. “Look honey, I wonder if that’s where Zee Best is?” “Keep your eye on Zee Damn road and don’t lose Cynthia or we’ll both end up in Zee hospital…” She’s probably right, zat’s a good idea. This is all within our first hour out of the airport and we’re just keeping our heads above water trying to take in the incredibly busy little section in this area of Simpson Bay.
I like to think I’m so clever. I’ve already “seen” the house from overhead using Google and Windows Live Maps and I already “know the way” from Simpson Bay to the villa, having rehearsed it in my mind so many times in an attempt at gaining instant local knowledge (there was one area of the island that wouldn’t show up on Google. I wonder if that’s where the US Vice President stays…). Well, once you get there, things just don’t look quite the same as when you’re looking at them on a computer screen like some kind of NSA agent. In 3-D, with people coming at you from all directions, the previous simulations can be rendered meaningless. As we drove around the airport and past the roundabout by the Food Express shop we made a mental note to return for limited groceries. Just enough for tonight since we’ll be able to get anything we need tomorrow. On Sunday. There will be more about this in my post on the island itself.
We then drive the famous stretch along Maho beach at the end of the runway. Cool. I f I was in an average American car, I wouldn’t care if there was a space shuttle preparing to launch at the end of the runway but, in the little Tieros, I look warily for even an approaching Cessna or large sea bird before we drive this section of the road, just in case we get flipped over in its wake vortex. To keep up the appearance of maintaining safety, the authorities have erected signs in this area that show a stylized aircraft and the image of a person in a somewhat compromised position behind it. The image conveys the impression that you can be thrown on to your back in a drunken stupor if you do this (if you look at an aircraft from behind). I suppose it must be like the old saw that you should never walk up to a horse from its behind and, the more modern warning that you must not, under any circumstances, approach a killer stingray (you can tell which ones are killers by the fact that the killer stingrays are the ones you see in the water) from behind or it will kill you and leave your daughter to become an internationally recognized television celebrity with a cute name (please see my earlier posts for a disclaimer about the tragedy that happened to Bindi’s father, Steve Irwin). Now, we can add approaching an aircraft from behind to the list of dangerous activities. Always walk up to it from the pointy bit at the front so it can see you. To get a better picture of just how much safer this approach is, check out the video on the Internet of the aircraft carrier deck crew that gets sucked through the forward intake nacelle of a Navy jet preparing to take off (he survived, by the way). Perhaps we should avoid aircraft altogether and go back to boats and walking. Just don’t approach the boat from behind...
Anyway… the other “safety” measure those savvy authorities have erected in this area is what appears to be eighteen inch high curbs bordering the outside of each lane as well as one in the middle. There is no sidewalk. At one end of this little arrangement, on the Maho beach side, is a bar (the Sunset Beach Bar) that allows persons to get appropriately prepared to approach aircraft from behind so they can lay down in a drunken stupor like the sign says (hint: they don’t need the aircraft to lay down in a drunken stupor after spending some time in this bar). So, no sidewalk, a high, thin concrete curb, people who have imbibed trying to “balance” on the high curb and vehicles passing through. Add to this list the occasional appearance just overhead of a 390,000 plus pound Airbus A340-300 that is allowing you to play “spin the tires” and you have what I would see as a recipe for disaster for an approaching motorist. I drove through this stretch probably twenty times during our week and never managed to bake a disaster using this recipe, though, since I never hit one of the tire-spinners perched precariously on the curb who was not bothering to look at me and my little Tieros as I drove through. Maybe they figured the Tieros wasn’t going to do much damage if I hit them but, they need to know that someone in Beacon Hill drives a Hummer. I’ve seen it.
Past the runway and butt-conscious aircraft area, we hook around and drive a little further along Beacon Hill road past several people who are in Pedestrian training classes for their upcoming trips to Saba Island and, without managing to “pop” any of them, we eventually have arrived. We make a short hook to the right through a steel gated entrance to the driveway of number 8 Beacon Hill Road into the double carport area within the nicely tailored grounds of our villa. I like the concept of “villa” as opposed to house. I haven’t been able to tell if there’s any specific identity to the term, since it is used pretty loosely to define all manner of lodging but, there before us, stands the lovely Coral Breeze. There are two entrance doors (no waiting!) that, we learn lead to separate halves of the house, depending on how many people are renting it. Cynthia leads us into the door on the right (“Behind curtain number one!”) and we walk into a well appointed entrance way and living room with a small but well set up kitchen leading off of it. Awaiting us is Ingrid, the housekeeper.
Ingrid sized us up and probably figured we were tourists (which, I suppose, is true, but I’m using the pejorative here…) and started in on what I expected to be the long list of things we would need to know. Cynthia stayed for the first couple of minutes of the briefing and then somehow miraculously disappeared. I’ll have to figure out how she did that! Ingrid told us we could have these two bedrooms. They were air conditioned (she must have figured I needed to know this because, at this point, standing in the non-air conditioned part in front of her for all of a few minutes (I didn’t realize it came with a sauna too!) I’m beginning to look like I just took a shower in my clothes (“tsk.. Tourist!”). “This is the kitchen”, which we can also have. This is the living room and that’ the television (it’s enormous, just in case some of the visitors don’t like the view of the ocean). We are then led outside to see the swimming pool (Yes!) and the outdoor shower. Ingrid shows us the laundry room, which is also outside. This lights Sonia up (not the fact that it is outside, but the fact that there is a laundry room – this is one of the first things she wants to know when we travel. “Honey, I’ve booked the room at the Waldorf! It’s going to be great!” “Okay, is there a laundry?” “What??!”). Speaking of being lit up, Ingrid then explains to us that the outside lighting will come on automatically when it gets dark. “Oh” I say, and “how do I turn it off?” She looks at me in a combined curious and sad look. “It turns off automatically. In the morning.” She explains. “So I can’t turn the lights off at night?” “No” she answers, in a sort of “Why would you want to do that?” kind of voice. This exchange becomes a nice segue into the “security briefing”, the most important part of our “welcome”, but I will return to the lighting later…
Both of the sliding doors have locks as well as sticks to wedge into place to stop the doors from being opened. Apparently the local criminals are experts at ‘loiding locks – presumably with stolen credit cards (I’ve always loved the pseudo-word “loiding” which is derived, I presume, from celluloid – it’s just a neat word, like cummerbund, I like that one too – not that you could force a lock with a cummerbund but…). She then tells us we must place the sticks against the sliding doors even when we’re at home. Hmmm…
Now she introduces the alarm system. There are several “modes” –“ Off”, which turns the system… off; “Away”, which turns the system on (why not just say “On” or “Armed” or “Prepare for false alarm” or something to that effect); and, “Stay”, which we are to use once we are completely locked inside, have fortified the place, electrified the swimming pool, engaged the auto-sensing machine gun turrets, sprinkled the poison tipped spikes all around the perimeter, released the attack dogs out to their watch stations and advised the platoon of heavily armed marines at their observation post that we are “going dark…” (which, we would discover sadly, would actually be impossible). Now I’m really perked up. Are you kidding? “Oh Ingrid, there’s a fourth button on the little key fob remote that isn’t marked. What is that one for?” “Don’t press that button…” she intones ominously. Okay… You just know the little alarm remote and I are going to have some issues later…
“Double lock the front door.” She says “when you are leaving” (away) “when you are inside” (stay) “and if there is a problem” (presumably not “off”, maybe that’s what the other unmarked button is for). There are separate keys on the “security cluster” of remotes, keys and genuine Murasawa Samurai Sword that we are to keep with us at all times. Now she tells us that we will set the alarm off if we even touch the windows of the second part of the house next door (which we’re not occupying). I assure her that we won’t and hope that there aren’t any large bugs big and stupid enough to fly into the windows of the place and get me in trouble. She doesn’t look convinced (about me, not the bugs). Now we trot outside to the front yard (away) and she shows us how to open the steel gate at the driveway. The driveway gate remote has two buttons, but all she says is “Press this button to open”, then she hands me the cluster with the keys, remotes and weapons and the briefing is over. Press this button to open??! Maybe the other button closes it. I inquire. “No.” she says and now it’s time for her to leave.
We had requested that there not be any housekeeping service for the whole week. I’ve been known to walk around the inside of a place in a clothing optional state and I’ve therefore been known to scare the crap out of a hotel housekeeper or two, which only results in more cleaning time for them, so we usually try to avoid unplanned interruptions. Ingrid informs us, in a way that has some authority to it and that I won’t question, that she will be back on Monday and we can decide about housekeeping then. After our discussions with the galley-slave that is employed with the clever technical title of “Flight Attendant” by Spirit Airlines, we are careful to be concerned that the owner might not pay Ingrid if she doesn’t come daily for housekeeping and that this would be unfair to her (despite the possible messy response from her if she encounters me in the nude) . Sonia, ever wise in these sorts of things, says she’ll discuss it with Ingrid on Monday (since I’ll be on my first scuba adventure at that time) and so, for now, all is settled and the place is ours.
As Ingrid leaves, I’m standing in the carport of the villa and I should have looked up to take note of an important island construction technique that would later become important but, since I was tired. I didn’t see it. Big mistake… There will be more on this later.
Coral Breeze is actually presented in two, distinct, parts. There is a single storey two bedroom component that comprises the main house. Right next to it (and adjoined by an internal, lockable, door) is a two storey component that contains three more bedrooms and, strangely enough, a kitchen. Perhaps the owner, Luc Knoll, a doctor on the island, figured that most western tourists trash the kitchen so much when they’re on vacation that they’d appreciate having a second shot at it, so to speak. My only problem with the configuration is that, all the time I had been looking at the photos of the villa on the web site, I had imagined Sonia and I sitting on the second floor verandah of the two storey part sipping a cool drink watching the tropical sunset and Saba Island, off in the distance, where we could just make out the conning tower of a large aircraft carrier and the hapless crew being consumed either by goats or islanders. We look at each other in the sure knowledge of our undying love. We’d finish our drinks and rise from our chairs to go inside and be together. That’s the dream. Oh yeah… Previously, I had inquired… “So Ingrid. Can we use the upstairs porch to sit and watch sunsets and, well, you know…?” “No. It’s locked.” Apparently, when you rent the place as a couple, you’re not allowed up to the second floor verandah to enjoy the view and the loveliness of your company and the promise of romance that often comes from just such a setting. You know the saying… “When a relaxing moment becomes the right moment, will you be ready?” No. We’ll be downstairs in the fortress trying to avoid the mini-gun turrets. We’ll have to be content with the view out the window of the ground floor living room. I guess the Dutch aren’t very romantic. Now, if the villa had been on the French side…
Well, at least we’re finally here and alone. Of course, being the wonderfully romantic couple that we are, and after travelling all day, the first thing we want to do? Go to the bathroom. Desperately! Thank goodness that the place rents as a two bedroom with two separate bathrooms. Suitably refreshed, I now have to do the rounds and get the phones from Sharron Harris’ place and pick up the scuba tanks and weights from the dive shop before they close. So, I’m off (away) but Sonia is staying (Off) and locking herself inside (stay) so the little alarm system is going to get confused by us for sure. Outside, I shrink myself using the patented process and get into the Tieros and press the top button on the gate remote. Nothing happens. Press again. Nothing happens. Try as I might, the gate does not want to listen to me. I’ve tried both upper and lower buttons in many different combinations by the time I step out of the car and walk menacingly towards the silent steel structure. “Now look!” I say as I continue pressing buttons, squeezing harder in the way that impatient people do when they press an elevator call button more than once even after it has lit up. Just as I reach the gate, it opens. Hah! I rush back to the car and squeeze into it. Start it and approach the gate just in time to see it close in front of me. You can see where this is going. I doubt the Tieros would make it through if I rammed the gate, but I was glad I bought insurance anyway and considered trying just that while still pressing the buttons on the remote in all manner of ways. The car is inching closer and closer. Of course, the gate then just opens, magically. Zoom, I’m through and then I press the lower button to close the gate. Nothing happens… Press again… to no avail. Oh my God! The evil doers will pass by, see the open gate, enter the premises, steal our stuff and sell Sonia a timeshare. A really expensive timeshare that they will then tear down after only a year. Oh the humanity… What to do? I know! Drive quickly and be back just in time to save the day. I’m off…
When I return with the phones, tanks and lead weights, the gate is closed! Damn! They must have sold her some jewelry too, since they were happy enough to close the gate when they left! I drive up and press the button. You already know what happens here. Nothing. I drive over to a dirt area over the road, point the Tieros at the gate and press the button. The gate swings away… I get it now. When you threaten the gate with a vehicle (even one as unintimidating as the Tieros) the gate gets scared and responds. At least now we know. I rush to the door, unlock both locks, press the mini-gun turret de-sequencer, verify that the curare-tipped arrow launcher is deactivated, throw a slab of beef to “killer”, the resident attack crab (who you’ll meet again later) and “burst” into the house to see how badly the credit cards have been ravaged. Sonia is just fine and has managed to rest a little inside the fortress (stay) while I’ve been out (away).
Please don’t get the impression that I didn’t like the villa. Because, when you stepped outside, or disarmed the plasma-laser firing system on the living room windows and then looked out there was…
“The view“
It was stunning. Simply gorgeous and it captivated both of us every day, no matter how much of it we soaked in. If you looked out of the living room windows, your gaze traversed a beautiful swimming pool, clear and beckoning, and then the Caribbean sea immediately beyond it. When I say “immediately”, I’m not kidding. The pool ends at a sea wall which is about ten feet above the clear blue waters of Burgeaux Bay below (isn’t “Clear Blue” a curious expression? I mean, it’s Clear, or it’s Blue, but yet you instantly know what I mean when I say it. Cummerbund…). The grounds around the pool are clean and there are several lounge chairs under a private shady area to one side. There’s a barbecue area and a large wooden table that the various flying bugs use as an altar so they can sacrifice stupid tourists who don’t realize what the tropics do for insects and who forget to buy bug repellant. There’s a small gate that leads out to the beach. The villa is perched at one end of this beach which describes a long sweeping arc Eastward of a couple of thousand feet before terminating in a rocky headland that points the way to Saba and Saint Eustatius in the distance. There’s a big hammock at the sea-end of the shady lounging area by the pool and, on appropriate nights, you could just lay in that thing and watch as the folks partying at Bliss (on the other, Western, headland nearby) do their “learn-to-swim” course after a night of libations or watch one of the new owners of the Nearby hotel sell another apartment to a hapless person and then tear it down just after they leave to go and party in the not yet opened casino. This is indeed paradise. We would sit on the sea wall and just watch the ocean, which is something Sonia and I have liked to do since we first met when we lived in an apartment block on the beach in Adelaide, South Australia. We sat and watched the Caribbean waves roll in and just soaked in the sound, the smell and the sight of it. We fooled the bugs by not sitting near the sacrificial altar-table. They may be vicious, but they’re not very bright. In the evenings, we would cover ourselves with a strange liquid called “Mosquito Milk”. I don’t really care to know how you milk a mosquito. I guess one way would be to make it buy an apartment at the nearby hotel and then tear it down after the mosquito flew off. But I’m not sure how you’d actually do that. The Mosquito Milk worked like a charm, though, since it fooled the little biters completely.
For now, we need to get a few groceries so we will survive our first night before the Sunday shopping extravaganza, so it’s time to stop being in the villa (stay) and go to the Maho Food Express (away). We’ll go outside and threaten the gate and be on our way…
Stay tuned since, when the villa report returns, you’ll learn about “intelligent air conditioning”; the “Internet dance”; “intruder-aware television”; the scuba diver crusher; roofing nails and the weekly alarm shriek…
Thanks once again for reading this far.
James
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