Before I get a huge pity party complaining about paradise on a sailboat, I will get my head on straight…just wait for it.
St. Maarten (Dutch side) and St. Martin (French side) make up a little seven-mile diameter island in the Northeast end of the Leeward Islands. It’s labeled SXM, after the airport. You’ve heard of it, or its close relative St. Barth’s. These are American/European tourist havens with huge timeshare complexes and mega/super-yachts sharing the same space with 115,000 residents and a million automobiles. We spent the past week in SXM, and I have loved and hated this week.
First, the bad. We delayed arrival from Sunday until Monday thinking immigration and customs would be difficult on a Sunday afternoon. We anchored in Orient Bay on Sunday, wandering the mile long French beach….yes, very French. It was really funny watching the looks the four of us got as we wandered down the beach together, all of us obviously NOT locals, but browned from months in the tropics. Jen found us the steel pan band we needed at a locals bar/BBQ joint. And the evening passed with poo-poos and rum.
A swim early in the morning kept me awake at sunrise, so I got underway and we arrived bright and early Monday morning to a marina in Philipsburg that obviously didn’t want or need transient cruisers. The dock was five feet high and all concrete. The assistant on the dock tried to put us on the outer face, just as the five-time daily ferry sped by, slamming us against the concrete dock. A quick reverse and new plan to the small accommodating marina with one space amongst all the day boats for the cruise ships which moored 1/2 mile away. So now, each morning the marina became a sea of pasty white and pink cruise ship prisoners, who boarded catamarans, speed boats and dive boats which all fled the marina between 8 and 930. Not so private and a little odd to have 20 strangers walk down the dock while you are having breakfast, morning constitutional, or recovering items left afield during the previous night’s revelry.
But, we did get a dock space, and I was promptly told that it was King’s Day and the immigration/customs would be closed. Doh! See, the Dutch monarchy changed last year…after the guide books we had on the boat were published. So, this new holiday date was different than the books. OK, we can adapt, and maybe get something else done….nope, everything is closed and we are now stuck at the marina. The crew decided to hijack a nearby pool and pool bar full of 60 year old retired Americans, boy did everyone have an incredible afternoon. But K’s parents had arrived in one piece and were quickly assimilated to the pirate lifestyle.
On Tuesday, I tried again to get into customs and immigration, only to be told the officer had to run to the cruise terminal and I should come back in an hour or two. Nope, other things to do. I walked all over Philipsburg through three different cruise ship crowds trying to find a SIM card and data plan and get a couple errands run. Only when I returned to the boat did I realize I dropped the BVI SIM card somewhere, and retraced my route in the heat and crowds. Giving up, we taxied over to Maho Beach to watch the planes sandblast beachgoers at the end of the runway.
Moments before the office closed for the day, I finally got everyone legally checked into the country, despite having been here since Sunday. And in an amazing bit of irony, the main Simpson Bay immigration and customs office was open both Sunday late and all day Monday, in direct contradiction to what we were told AND the very large sign that said “Closed on all public holidays.” Live and learn.
We then needed the amazing farewell dinner at Crazy Cow Restaurant, an unsigned outdoor deck on the lagoon. The required rum cup presentation followed at the adjacent Pink Iguana, a floating boat/bar in Simpson Lagoon. Faye and Jen were awarded their copper rum cups for excellent service aboard the good ship Allergic to Cities. While most pirate crew are given dram size rum cups, I knew that anything less than half-pint cups would be laughed at. Toasts were made all around and the girls proceeded to bang the cups on the bar to get more drinks. Oh, how we will miss them. According to my crew, the “cute” French bartender complemented the evening perfectly.
The 5:30AM knock on the boat by the marina security guard was WAY TOO EARLY, and predictably, the taxi was waiting and no one was packed. Most belongings got shoved into bags, some being in bags upon bags already, and good-byes were said as tin and copper cups clanged from rucksacks. It was the low point of the trip so far. Thank you both SO MUCH for your laughter, music, and wit for the past three weeks. You are missed.
At this point, we decided to stay in the Philipsburg marina and rent a car to get around and to/from the Campbell’s hotel on Pelican Cay. We ran a bunch of boat errands and provisioned at the major package store and grocery since the island would be shut down Thursday and Friday for Carnival and Labour Day (note the superfluous “u”, at least it’s not a “zed”). We then drove to Marigot on the French side and gorged on bread and pastries.
It is a very cute French counterpart to Philipsburg.
Thursday brought Carnival parade and the entire Dutch side shuts down. We spent the morning on the beach in the French town of Grande Case, which is a gastronomical paradise of no less than 30 restaurants along the beach front boulevard.
Then back to Philipsburg to watch the parade. Our timing was perfect; we got into town just as the first marchers arrived after a three hour-five mile trek from Simpson Bay. We grabbed gelato and watched the sweating dancers cavort through the street in their headdresses and costumes. It was a very fun, if loud, experience.
Friday was chores, with another pool interlude. Then, finally, on Saturday, I couldn’t bear being a floating hotel tied to a dock any longer and we set sail around the island with Clan Campbell aboard. They quickly took up appropriate positions:
We found some quiet bays to anchor in and dropped the family off on Sunday night in preparations for our trip to Antigua and their flight home.
So, why am I torn on SXM? There are a dozen amazing anchorages and little towns and communities on both sides of the island that are perfect for cruisers to hide and assimilate. The people seem warm and inviting, and the opportunities for good drink and food are endless. The place is relatively cheap compared to BVI, but more expensive than Utila. Unfortunately, our logistics and obligations made that exploration difficult. Additionally, the center for cruisers is Simpson Bay or Marigot, but getting through the draw bridges on schedule and getting everything else accomplished during a week of three holidays was difficult. On top of that, there are a ton of people, everywhere. From the locals, to the land based visitors, to the 3000-5000 cruise ship passengers daily, to the thousand cruiser families, this is a busy and crowded place. After Utila and the boat for the past three months, this large number of people was a bit overwhelming and irritating. Add in the obvious consumer nature of the island, it is duty-free after all, which is counter to my current ethos. All of this was compounded by a week of unusually hot weather with minimal tradewind influence, and I just LOVE the heat.
Oh, and we lost two wonderful crew members that have been part of our lives for the past three months. Two people who are amazingly unique and enjoyable. I haven’t met many people that love the sea, scuba, adventure and life as much as these two and they taught us invaluable lessons in each area.
So, I have a love/hate about SXM. I’d love to come visit this island without a timeline or agenda. There are numerous bars, restaurants and pastries to be explored; hills to climbs and beaches to wander. But as I am learning, you cannot do even part of the Leewards on a pre-arranged schedule of two-months. I yearn to be more centered and open to the world as it is presented to me, not attempt to force it to meet my schedule or commitments. However, I have to remember this is a sabbatical, and life changes are still yet to come.
No matter what other crap floods my brain, at the end of each day I remember something a very old taxi driver in BVI told us. Bouncer, with a six-inch scar down his skull from being pistol whipped in his youth, says: “I can complain about my life, but then I look around and see that I live in paradise, so who would listen anyways?” I am slowly learning there may be everything to embrace in that statement.
Off to Antigua and a rendezvous with Pirate Murray. More adventures to come.