Farewell Fair St Maarten

My last day in St Maarten. It was sad times for all. I woke without a hangover, not what I'd expected after my last night on the island but a welcome change. I had some more washing to do but the other lady I live with was occupying the bathroom, doing all the cleaning and her own washing at just the time I needed it. I thought, rather than standing around wasting my time, I'd head to Seaside and have one last ride as well as farewell all the staff.

I brought the bowl for my bosses, and a thank you card, and at the farm they also gave me a gift - a book on St Maarten, which was lovely. Now I can take my boy through all the different places and what I did there. The girls gave me a couple of trinkets, which was also sweet. It looked like they liked the bowl, so that's good.

I had to wait a short while for my horse to ride, as they'd had an unexpected amount of guests show up and were at capacity for that hour. J had to take out 12 people because the new girl had just started and she could only go at the end of the ride. Poor people, I would have gone on one last trail if I'd known it would make things easier! 

Chico was being used by a guest, so I waited by the beach hut, talking with N and getting the photos she put aside for me. I was keeping it all together well, detaching myself from the reality that was me leaving another place and all my new friends, until A called. He told me such sweet things and was so emotional about my return that I couldn't help it, I lost it. 

It was difficult for me, there was this strange mix of emotions I'd never had upon leaving a place. Usually I'm sad at saying goodbye to friends but excited about moving on - this time I was going home, I wasn't moving on so to speak. But home WAS moving on, and it would be a whole new chapter with my boy. Hopefully the start of a lifelong chapter. And for that I was excited, apprehensive, worried a little that he'd been waiting all this time for someone that might disappoint. Then again, he was equally as scared. At least we're in this together.

The boss let me take the new girl for an introductory ride, showing her the trails and having a little run. Chico, I found out, was missing a shoe so I didn't do too much with him. And they'd cleared a whole area of land for another lookout point, as well as extended the little pond to be a longer, bigger dam. I was only off for two days and already so many changes! I already felt on the outside.

After the ride, I said my final goodbyes and one of the Dutch instructors said she could take me home then come back and take me to the airport, since E had nanny duties again. I did speak to E on the phone, though, and she was upset she couldn't take me, promising to drop in to my house before I left. She never came in the end, me finding out later there was another problem with the kid. This is why I don't want kids yet!

I did a quick last-minute clean of the kitchen, putting all the crap I'd accrued (not much, really) aside for the other flatmates in case they wanted to take it after I left. The bedroom didn't get the same treatment unfortunately, as the Dutch lady came early and I had just enuf time to throw everything into my bags and load up her car. 

Said a final goodbye to A and her kids as they headed out to the older one's birthday party, and kissed my sweaty little room farewell. L never came back as he promised so I left his Bob Marley bio at the apartment... I guess he'll get it in Caribbean time. 

It was a quick trip to the airport and then I shuffled away with my two big bags, way more than I needed really and way more than I would have packed had I known this sojourn would only last four months. But what a four months! It is a beautiful part of the world, the culture is definitely different to what I am used to, and I made some nice friends which I won't forget in a hurry. I guess it's just not my time there. But here's to the next chapter - to infinity and beyond!

The Carnivale that wasn't

I'd originally hoped to go on L's friend's speedboat on the day before I left SXM, but because it's not properly registered, it couldn't be taken out. They had tightened up on some rules in the lead-up to the Heineken Regatta so it was a definite no-no now. Bugger.

Instead, I did some of my washing, started packing (boo) and washed my hair in preparation for its styling tonight. Well, I mostly washed my hair - about 3/4 of the way through, I heard a car pull up and a knock on my door. Could've been a multitude of people for me, but what an inconvenient time! I quickly rinsed my hair out and stepped out, dripping, to reach the door before they left.

It was E, relieved I was home. She waited in the car for me to dress and we went to Seaside to get my paycheck to cash immediately before the bank closed. This time she remembered to take out my rent, bummer. The bank queue was stupidly long so after an age in that I finally had my moolah and we could go to E's house. She'd done a mega shop and by that stage we could've devoured everything, so I sat eating a hole in her pantry while she unpacked everything. Fatty fatty boomba!

We managed to sort ourselves out enuf to get to Karakter for a drink before E had to pick up V from school, and I could log on momentarily to Karakter's internet since everyone else's seemed to not work with my laptop that day. One mojito later and we were outta there. My last visit to the beach on SXM :(

I accompanied E in the car but had to be dropped home afterwards in order to get sorted for my meeting with the hairdresser. But when I got into town and phoned her, she had forgotten and I had to walk around some blocks to find her. Then we got a bus to her house in French Quarter, convenient since I was going out on the French side with La anyway. We picked up her daughter and got home, she said it would take about two hours to twist my hair then style it. Sounds good.

It was a bit painful when she pulled and twisted it about, it has been years since anyone's done it so I guess I've gotten away with a lot in my laziness! It looked amazing at the end, all rolled and piled somehow on top of my head, and secured with a needle n thread. This shit ain't comin' out anytime soon! And it will be so unusual in Australia, especially for $40, it just couldn't happen.

On the way out, I spoke to La and arranged to meet her in Marigot. I was told there was a bus "over there" so I waited. And waited. Bah! Almost half an hour later I was over it. Out went my thumb and a few minutes later a car of Spanish-speaking guys pulled over (they had a little kid too, so it wasn't as dodgy as it sounds). They took me to the end of the line for them, about 5 minutes drive from Marigot, and left me where I could get a bus outside their cock-fighting venue. 

I waited a while longer before the driver came back out and told me he'd take me all the way to Marigot. What a sweetheart! Of course in the car I mentioned I was leaving the next day to go back to my boyfriend and he says, "Oh, I wish you weren't going so soon." Well, I am, get over it. But thanks for the lift! See ya! Wait, there's my friend. Do you know where we're going for this soca concert? Not here? OK, let's go to the Carnaval Village. Nice driver, can you take us please? Great, thanks. Oh, you're so nice. Bye!

Except that it wasn't at the Carnaval Village. Well, it was, but it was the night before. Which is what we'd originally thought, but La thought she saw something in the paper saying it had moved to tonight. That's the thing about the French side carnaval, it is just SO unorganised and not at all publicised. You really need to dig deep to find out what's happened.

So that was a bummer, not being able to see a proper soca concert before I left. We went to get something to eat as we were hungry, and then decided to go to E's house since she offered us over. She had kids she couldn't get rid of, and A, the other mother, volunteered to pick us up since the buses would've been a trek at this time. I am pretty sure she was drunk when she arrived, but she offered to get us "something for the road" so we stopped at a random, dead bar.

This turned out to be a hilarious experience, because the bartender was totally crazy and made the funniest faces while he was mixing our mojitos. He basically gyrated to the French love song as he ground the mint. It was too funny. Eventually, the drink was made and we were on our way. 

Had a few drinks at the Maho mansion then A decided to go home, offering to drive us back. She was well drunk, as was E, but I was OK. Really should have offered to drive her car for her, but instead I just went in front and kept A focused. She did swerve a bit though... dropped me off and then La. I crossed my fingers they got there OK. They did. Phew!

Star-studded Saba & La Finale La Bamba

Finally - time for St Barths! I woke up excited, having planned this for a while, so I packed my things and hurried along to the mini mart nearby to get a quick breakfast before getting the bus to Marigot ferry port. When I looked out the mini mart door, a saw a little four-legged creature with ears pricked, waiting patiently for me. Polly... go home!! Please sweetie! 

I managed to shake her and keep going to the ferry, getting there just before a huge group of Frenchies booking in. The fare was on sale for the Carnaval period, just $55 including taxes, so something I could afford. Had a budget and all that, and actually ended up sticking to it! 

I used all my money renting and putting a deposit down for a scooter, to get myself around the island on my own timeline. It was the best decision I could've made, although it left me with absolutely no money in my wallet for simplicities such as water. Lucky I brought some things with me and could survive on chocolate wafers and juice. It's actually good she didn't push the 500 euro deposit (just gave her $93), otherwise I'd not have been able to rent anything.

It was apparently one hour to drive around the island so it was no surprise that the first random beach sign I saw, to Anse de Flamands, ended up being at the top end of the island. It was a gorgeous beach, actually, and had a full frontal view of St Maarten from afar. Funny, since I am so used to seeing it the other way around every day at work!

Had a sunbake there, topless of course - I didn't want to be the only one wearing clothes - and then moved on to the next place. No real plan in mind, I just enjoyed scooting around the streets and stopped when I thought something looked interesting. I went to the airport first to see another of the world's most dangerous landing spots. The airstrip materialised at the bottom of a hill and ran right to the beach (Baie de St Jean), where it just turned into sand. No fence or anything. Only light planes could land there but it really didn't leave much room for error - in landing or taking off. And of course there were the tourists, standing right in the middle of the airway, between the "DO NOT CROSS" markers, cameras poised. Sigh.

The next beach I stopped - Anse de Lorient - at had a sweet little alleyway entrance, with a small, all-white cementary edged along the side. The beach wasn't that nice, compared with the others, and had a strong tide warning as well as some seaweed and lots of anchored dinghy boats floating nearby. Not the more desirable environment. So I downed the cheesy puffs I'd stashed from SXM and moved on.

I noticed there were a number of Rastas on this island, like Saba, and they gave me quizzical glances as they spotted my long dreds flowing out of my helmet. But mostly, people didn't really notice you and were more absorbed in getting a tan or looking beautiful. It's hard work, really.

I took the road that wound around the edge of the island, right by the cliff edge, and it was stunning. Jumped off my bike to snap the stuf that panorama wet dreams are made of, and then headed inland to climb some more hills. I thought the sign "Petit Cul-de-Sac" sounded cute, so I ventured there, only to find a small, rough beach by a swamp. It spat a few drops of rain about now as well, hastening my decision-making. Gustavia-bound!

But before I got back to town, I had a couple more places to visit. I don't know why, but I was drawn to the Saline and it turned out to be a hidden gem. With a short hike uphill to then go down into this rather reasonable-size cove, it opened out to a stunning clear blue ocean, with just the right amount of wave. And the obligatory millionaire boat club moored all around. 

Again, there were boobs flying everywhere and the sun was shining bright. I didn't think to put on sunscreen in the places I probably should have, and as a result, I didn't have tan marks anywhere above my waist but had quite tender bosoms for a couple of days after. It was reaching the afternoon now and I had to get back to town to give the scooter back before the ferry left. So I bid farewell to the bronzed, super fit couples (that were probably famous in their own countries in their own way), and headed to Shell Beach, my last stop.

I had thought this was the famous beach full of shells they call "The Singing Beach" because the water made a tinkling sound as it rushed over the shells... There were shells but I didn't hear no tinkle. I sat for a bit anyway, reading a mildly inappropriate book for the beach, and then headed back to the rental place to get my deposit back and buy something to drink!

Talking to a nice American couple, they put the idea of icecream in my head so I had to have some. $4.50 later... how I savoured every drop of that one scoop. Then it was through immigration and onto the ferry, where the same host tried talking to me in French and I had to finally admit I couldn't understand him. Embarrassing. But the trip back was beautiful, timed perfectly with sunset so I saw the hills being lit up by the moving sun and the fine mist thrown from the crashing waves create an eery filter through the shadows. My camera was working overtime. 

Tonight was my farewell drinks with the guys from work, although I wasn't expecting that many to show up. I was running late, as was everyone else I discovered when I got to Sunset Bar and couldn't find anyone else. J called me and asked where I was, because they had come from work and were waiting by my house. So they came along - just J, R and Re - with D not even getting out of the truck to stay for a drink. That didn't really bother me, he and I weren't really mates. Goodness knows what shit he'll say about me after I leave. Don't care, to be honest.

We had a couple of drinks but then they found something to complain about, as usual. This time it was the food - to expensive there, apparently, so after much unneeded deliberation we went to La Bamba. La had come by this stage so we all got into a bus and stopped by Toppers for one last karaoke song - I did Amy Winehouse's cover of Valerie in honour of my boss' daughter of the same name - then it was back to the beach bar I've sunk many a beer at.

Well, La Bamba was PACKED. I'd never been on a Thursday night before, but they had a DJ playing the whitest music possible... a complete change from Tuesday's salsa night! No wonder white people can't dance, look at the music they're given! Ran into L who was a bit wasted, and had a boogie with the boys from work. Re was funny, kept telling me he loved me and that I shouldn't go... oh Re... what a sweetie. He's funny.

The girls ordered food which took an age to come, and then finally got delivered stone cold. So they were annoyed and left shortly after because they had work the next day. So it was just me and the boys! Then D, who used to work at Seaside, turned up and we had some drinks before she drove us home. L had asked for "one last dance" but considering his state, I thought it was best to let that one pass and just slipped out without saying goodbye. He'd already accidentally body-slammed me when I tried to surprise jump on him from behind. 

Also saw the friend of the tattoo artist, who said, "Why didn't you come in to get a tat??" Well, you see, I TRIED but your bullshitting mate didn't make any effort to contact me when I tried two days in a row. I hate that kind of American attitude, all talk, no business. But it's for the best, anyway, I couldn't really afford it. If he REALLY wanted to tattoo me, he could have called me.

It was about 3am when I got home, to get a phonecall from A who somehow knew I would have been out. We spoke for almost an HOUR, god knows how much that cost him, and then I passed out. Game over.

Saba from the mist

Last day at the Seaside

As it turned out, Wednesday was to be my last day. I already had Friday off and I was owed a day off from coming in on Monday, so the choices boiled down to Thursday or Thursday.

I came in normal time and saw a whole lot of horses in the rack. Confused me a little, since at the time only J and I were there. Then I came in, and later R. So it was me and my favourite boys to work with. And on my last day! Lucky me! I went back to riding Chico, I thought it was only appropriate since he was the only beautiful black boy I rode during my time in the Caribbean. How the boys were jealous ;)

I had 4 regular rides, almost all cruise ship, and got an assortment of tips. First ride didn't tip at all but the others did (even when I gave them the sob story of leaving because it was hard to make ends meet here - hey, if that's what it takes!). The water had calmed down so it wasn't as difficult to control the ride and the undercurrent didn't suck the horses' feet into the sand. Always a plus.

Didn't really get a proper lunch break, R has taken to giving us half an hour here n there in between rides arriving so it's a little more difficult to go on the internet or have a proper something to eat - not that the internet even works these days but it's a critical time to keep in touch with my boy and even my family, hoping that they've still kept my return a secret for my mum's birthday, the same day I land.

I came up to the horses after my 4th ride to get the horses and cows in one last time, and found that J had stolen my horse for his ride as we had too many people. I couldn't be that pissed off because the big ride he had was the Germans, a ride R told me I was meant to do. "Really?? On my last day? You're giving me the Germans?? Come on, man!!" I threatened to quit early but he said that wasn't possible. I guess he got an attack of the guilts, or more likely, I was out on a ride and he just wanted them on the horses and outta there asap.

And so it was that the only horse left in the rack was Bonita, a reliable but bitchy horse that can carry a lot of weight so gets used quite a bit. I had not put someone on her because I thought she could get a break, but in the end I had to take her out. I took a crop (short whip) just in case, but didn't need to use it. Man, she has a weird gait, though! Kinda fast-trots everywhere and is a bit disjointed in her canter. No wonder they don't use her for lessons.

Found the cows and rounded them in before the bull noticed - made a discreet exit when I came upon his territory. Horses were all basically down by the stable already because there weren't that many not in use for this busy Wednesday, so I really just did the trails but didn't actually round any horses up up there.

I had one more ride for the day, but it was E and her nannying kid, and another mum and her kids. I had a niggling feeling she was not going to show, or at the least be late (even though I instructed her not to be as it was an after-hours ride), so I was getting pretty frustrated when my repeated phone calls were ringing out and the clock was striking 5pm. The office manager was bugging me to close the office for the day and the other guides were waiting to feed the horses - do we unsaddle or wait? I was quietly fuming.

Just after I went up to the stable and said, "Fuck it, just unsaddle them, I'm annoyed now! Seriously, on my last day??!" So they were almost done unsaddling when the first car turned up. There was a toing and froing, do we do it? Do we leave it for another day? The boys were keen but mum could've not spent the money. In the end, they said yes and so I swooped up to get the horses re-readied and as we were about to leave, E and V showed. 2 more horses were whisked out, the food virtually pulled from under their flaring nostrils, and we went riding.

Took them for a little trot, which was more than enuf excitement for the boys. None of them could really ride, just the other mum A, so I kept it simple for them. They loved the water at the end, overreacting about the poo in the water, all a bit of fun. Afterwards, E and A said they loved it and thanked me profusely, even pushing tips into my hands. I felt a little awkward accepting them but they insisted. And I do need it. I just wish it wasn't so obvious!

I put the horses away with the help of the guys, who were still there to do training for the carousel (horse show) coming up. I wish I could have stayed for that, I would have loved to wear the long Spanish dresses and done little routines on the horses. Would've been my first kind of carousel, too. Oh well.

E waited and took me back to her pad, stopping briefly to see if the tattooist was in and leaving my number if he came back and wanted to see me about the tats. He never called, which is fine, I just chilled out with E and had some wine. We were both pretty tired and I planned on going to St Barths the next day, so she dropped me home and I got some sleep.

Markets cure my Valentines blues

Finally the rain fell today, thankfully not too much and it cleared to be a beautiful day once again. But it wet the earth and filled the tanks, if only a portion. I had 3 rides for the day, there were to be only 3 guides because my rasta workmate was still sick, but then he turned up so he was to do the first big ride with us then go. Fast forward to 3pm and he's just leaving - longest 1-hour ride I ever seen!

When he came in and I announced I was riding Tornado that day, he started bitching, "Can't I just ride him for my one ride and you can ride Chico?" No, I want to ride Tornado because I know it'll be the last time and he is a dream to ride. Which is why I had to fight for him. I didn't relent and so it was that I rode Tornado all day... in the end, not necessarily the best decision.

I have ridden Tornado into the sea before and he never seemed to have a problem, but on this day the sea was the roughest I'd seen since working at Seaside and therefore it was the day I discovered Tornado doesn't like swimming. So, in his efforts to get me off his back, he managed to BUCK in the water (quite a feat), rocking back n forth, rearing, splashing about. Well, he didn't succeed, I stayed strong on board and managed to coordinate the tourists so no one got themselves into a sticky situation. One guy reared but since everything happens twice as slow in the water and he'd ridden before, that was no drama.

Got OK tips until the last ride, which ironically was the most entertaining for me, but even though they were New Yorkers, I got absolutely nothing from them. Fuck 'em, I thought, as I raced up the hill on Tornado to get the horses and cows in. I've got better things to worry about. Like hot fast I could get up the hill on this beast.

It was a glorious day to do the rounding up, I took my camera and got some beautiful pics. Tornado was, as expected, brilliant and I even managed to not get charged by the bull. That animal is gonna cause some problems being out there. He's already caused one of our quietest horses to bolt home and lose his rider. But hey, I'm about to leave so I guess that won't be my problem anymore!

So tonight was Tuesday, the night of the markets and street parade in Grand Case on the French side. N had been promising for weeks that she'd take me so I was expecting to go with her, only she had a car accident (no one was hurt) and her car was a bit worse for wear. Glad she was OK, I was also a bit annoyed because this is exactly why I didn't want to leave it til the last week. I called up La and she was fine to come, although now she's sold her car we had to bus it in. Which was 2 buses, and a taxi home.

On our quasi "Valentines Day" date (ha!), we cruised the streets of Grand Case looking at handicrafts and things from street vendors, sipping a beer and quietly chuckling at some of the ladies dressed to the nines in high platform stilettos, loads of make-up and super-tight minidresses, hair all up in a shiny weave. Their problem - they'll have to maintain that standard for whichever guy they get - I feel sorry for them. Give me my fisherman pants and old t-shirt any day!

I found a nice handmade bowl for my boss and his wife as a thank-you gift, I do appreciate how nice they've been to me since I got there and I honestly hope to get back to SXM one day. Also was dragged into some Guavaberry shop which also sold some chutneys etc by the owner, La's friend, who assured me what I was about to taste-test was not that hot. That shit BURNED a hole into my lips!! And they were already fucked from the sun. Yeah, you can imagine how happy I was about that! Had big blisters on them the next day.

We caught the same bus back home as we got in, only the driver had swapped from being a bus driver to a taxi driver. Not really sure how legal that is but it got us home for only $10 a pop, an we had a nice conversation with an older couple on holidays here. I was glad I went to the markets, though, and saw the Carnaval people dancing down the little street to the marching band. I so want to be one of those girls one day! Even just for a day...

I still can't believe this is my first Valentines Day where I've ever HAD a Valentine - and he's halfway across the world! Just my luck, huh.

The day off that never was

To say I was annoyed at having to work instead of going to St Barths with La was an understatement. It also meant I was really tired and grumpy at work, and had to work with D, my least favourite guide, with none other of the guys to buffer me.

The land was drying up, having not had even a tropical rainstorm in several days. We were now attached all the hoses together and running the water from the tap at the other side of the property to ensure the horses got enuf drinking water. It was a hassle, but with those 2 horses dying from something dietary, we weren't taking any chances. As much as I bitch about the mud, I would've appreciated a little today if it meant the tanks were filled up.

My first ride was a group of Northeners, including a couple that had just wed the day before on board the cruise ship (interesting) and some of the bridal party. I was impressed at their stamina, going riding the day after (the first activity they'd booked all cruise, actually!) and being in good spirits. And they tipped me at the end! Must've still been drunk.

Got some more tips from the other rides I did, but they weren't memorable so have swiftly slipped from my mind. I found I was busy all day, but mainly because there were just 2 of us guides. I even got a 2-hour break since I started at 7am, although it was a little boring as the internet didn't want to work and I had to (gasp) make conversation with people instead!

Had a later ride so ended up being there til almost 7pm - 12 hours! - and managed to score a lift home with the lady that comes to ride her friend's private horse. Due to the time, I was dropped straight to Pineapple Pete's to check my internet, in all my workplace glory... mud on my feet, stinky horsey jodhpurs, wet, salt-stained shirt... Lucky I'm not here to impress anyone.

Got my happy hour drink, checked the internet and then vamosed to the tattooist next door but he was closed. He'd said he was opening every day these days but clearly not. One of many pieces of bullshit he'd feed me in the coming days ha! So off it was to home, to count down the days til I leave... it's getting damn close now.

Romantic Saba

Again I woke to momentary confusion as my alarm sounded and I quickly realised, oh that's right, I slept at E's mansion and I somehow snagged her bed. Meanwhile... where was she??

I staggered out to the lounge room, a vague recollection that she'd promised me to take me home (and possibly to the marina) in time for my Saba ferry. And as much as it pained me (and her), I woke her up. "Hey........... I gotta go now........ you awake....???" I'm so mean.

And so it was we were half alive. Stopped off at my house to change clothes, grab my pre-prepared lunch and jump back in the car to the marina. Stopped at Cappuccino, the place that never closes, and got a coffee for E and a fresh juice for me. Oh, I sound healthy, but I just don't like coffee.

La was busy calling me when I was at the cafe, my phone in the car, and when I finally got back she was on her 3rd try, anxious that I wasn't coming anymore. Here I was thinking she wouldn't come! So we checked in and waited for the ferry. Had to present our passports even though it's another Netherlands territory (albeit a municipality), and my passport earnt another stamp. Keep 'em comin'!

On board, they told us we had a choice of drinks including beer so I thought, well why not keep a good thing going... and ordered a beer. So it was a little harder to finish than I thought, due to the pounding waves on the high speed ferry, and I did my best to finish it but just had to lie down and calm my head. Came so close to spewing but managed to hold myself together - wish I could say the same for La, poor girl was headfirst in a bag when I opened my eyes, trying to dab the surrounding area of any bits of vomit that sprayed out. Gross, but I do feel for her.

We landed at Saba, a formidable rock of an island with no beaches and actually an inactive volcano, although as I was to find out, incredibly sweet and romantic. A quick immigration check left another stamp on my passport and led us to a waiting taxi/minibus same as St Maarten, with a several-generations local that had a microphone set up so he could tell us about the island as we drove through.

It wasn't cheesy though, and quite a good idea, I was thankful at least he was driving us through as it was raining when we stepped off the boat and I for one had NOT anticipated wet weather gear when half-drunkenly packed my bag for the trip. It was insane, though, that the people in the taxi told me it was twice as rough getting to St Barths the day before. Are you friggin kidding?? Vomit town, population me.

The driver took us to all 4 villages of the island, as well as the airport which was basically an airstrip about 200m long, ending each side on a cliff edge. Yep, definitely one of the most dangerous airports in the world. Along with St Maarten (where I live) and St Barths (next door). At the end, near some walking trails, he dropped us off - "us" being La and I, plus a Swede and an American off the yachts in SXM staying for a few nights - quoting us the odd amount of $31. Hard to divide between 4, but we made it work. Sabans are weird.

We were meant to go hiking down to Windwardside, the most touristy village, but instead we thought to go down to The Bottom (literally the village at the bottom of the hill), so we could experience the beautiful, misty rainforest of the island without going too high and getting to muddy. I'm glad I bought my sneakers, though!

As it was, certain pains kept reminding me I was a woman, and the hike I guess turned out to be a good distraction. Then I thought food would work, so we found one of few places open on a Sunday in Saba, a cute little cafe, and ordered some lunch. Turned out to be quite sub-standard food but I ate it anyway, hungry all the same. Instead, I tried to focus on the quaint little cottages and romantic air of the island. In honesty, all I could think of was living here with A and somehow making a life for us, even just for a little while. Living amongst the trees, in a sweet little cottage...

Afterwards, we thought it best to stay downtown rather than try to climb the mega-steep hills back to Windwardside, and headed towards Well's Bay. We stopped a police car to ask for directions and upon hearing it was too far to get back by the ferry departure, we just opted for the pretty gazebo at the top of the hill. We sat and chatted for a short while, noting the lack of cars on The Road (it's so easy to walk in the middle of The Road - the name of the main road - here and forget there are cars as well), and then headed back to the ferry.

Halfway down the steep hill to the ferry a truck stopped to let us in, basically just stopping and waving us in before keeping on going. Mmm, what a lovely aroma of fish that afforded us. And yet another stain on my white top as I climbed down the big wheel. It was entertaining to see all the goats running around the island, too. I wonder if they know just how awesome their home is.

Back at Pelican Marina, I walked La to her bus stop and opted to walk home. Except that soon enuf one of the cabbies that often comes to Seaside to drop off tourists offered me a lift (had to beep a while to get my attention) and I was home before I knew it. Then it was off to Pineapple Pete's to get the internet. And stop by the tattoo artist I met the other day. Is it worth doing something? Do I have time? Moreso, do I have the money? These questions plagued me.

So I had a non-alcoholic cocktail (after the havoc that boat ride played me today), spoke to A who is getting increasingly excited about my arrival, and headed home. No St Barths tomorrow, unfortunately, as I had been called in to replace a sick workmate and now if I wanna go to the ultra-expensive island I do it solo. Great!!

They're always French...

There's this thing at work, a kind of ladder we use to measure how much tips we will probably get. Not that you can ever know, but in general cruise ships tip the least (because the ship charges them so much for the activity as it is and I've learnt that people on cruises tend to watch their money a little more), then 1-hour rides, then 2-hour rides and the most from private rides.

This ladder fell from right under my feet today, as I was "generously" given 2 private rides. The first, a group of 4, had 1 repeat customer and the rest from the cruise ship. They couldn't really ride so after the first trot I seriously reconsidered making it any faster. I was also perturbed to hear one of them ask the older man at the back "is your back alright?" A bad back? And we're trotting? OK, we're slowing down. How selfish of the rest of the group for even wanting to go faster. So, at the request of the old man, we kept it walking. That ride was a $10 tip.

The second, very private with just one Canadian woman, was a bit more fun as she could ride better but not amazingly, and when I took her faster the little-girl grin that spread across her face showed she loved it. She was holidaying with her parents, but was over 30 (said she left her husband at home, I'd like to believe her) and said it was her mum's idea but that she really enjoyed it. At the bar, she bought me a guavaberry colada and then left. No tip. Here I was just starting to have faith in Canadians.

After all this, I was getting tired and a little frustrated. All about to get worse, of course, as I was informed that since I was the only one finished with my lunch break, I was on pony ride duty. Frustration mounts. I have 16 screaming kids running around me, "I'M NEXT I'M NEXT I'M NEXT!!" I'll tell you what's fucking next, a clobbering in your face is what.

Making matters worse was the partyzilla of a mum whose kid was having the birthday party, being bitchy about the fact 5 kids weren't able to ride together on the pony rides. She didn't seem to grasp my explanation that the kids were 4, could not control a horse themselves and needed their own guide. We don't have 5 guides at your disposal. And the others are on lunch. In the end, one of them was taken off their lunch an hour early just to get the rides done. Then I had to listen to his bitching behind me as we walked the horses around. Urgh.

There were no more rides booked for the afternoon (except E and her nannying kid, who didn't make it) so we started unsaddling and were about to feed when 2 mums came for some more pony rides. These kids were actually cute little rastas and it wasn't nearly as painful doing the rides with them. But that was about it for my limit of dealing with kids for the day.

I finished work right on 5pm and went home shortly after to change before going to Pineapple Pete's for internet. It was playing up at work again. Was waiting momentarily for E who said I could take my computer to her place and use the internet there, but I realised it was much more efficient to just take myself to the sports bar and do my thing until she called. Thankfully, since it was a while before I heard from her.

It being my last Saturday night, she was keen in having some drinks so we went to her place for some wine and cheese, before heading to Sky Bar. This was definitely the coolest bar I'd been to on the island, on a rooftop and covered in sand, with little pods you could sit cross-legged on and table service. Of course it came with a price tag, and before we knew it, we'd consumed a $50 bottle of wine! Oops.

It was about this time, as I watched Dirty Dancing play beside the DJ booth, that E got a BBM message from her boyfriend that Whitney Houston had died. My thoughts instantly went to my sister, who is the biggest Whitney fan I know - then I kept drinking and forgot about it until the next day.

When we finished the wine, we left and made loose plans with the bartender to catch up later. E knew some of the staff cos her boss part-owns the bar I think, but I also know this particular bartender would not have minded at all spending more time with my friend... She was looking very nice that night.

We took E's car back home and then walked to Bliss (accompanied by E's house security guard), the club by the airport beach (Maho) which I'd only ever been to on New Years Day (at about 3:30am) so my memory isn't fabulous of it. It was some kind of mask party and we were given some cheap cardboard things to put on when we arrived, so I wore it for some fun and we busted some sweet moved (or at least I assume they were sweet) on the dancefloor.

At one point, I kinda crash-tackled E from behind when I jumped on her, knocking the drink out of a woman's hand behind me. I saw it all but didn't care, thought she'd just get over it and keep dancing, but when I looked over from the bar I'd walked to, I saw she'd started harassing E for knocking her drink. And kept harassing her. She had no idea what the woman was talking about. When I saw she was getting stalked by this woman, I stepped in and explained it was me that spilt the drink, apologised and offered to buy her a new one.

The woman - French, of course - said she didn't care about the drink but just wanted the incident to be acknowledged and have an apology. OK then. 2 minutes ago she was threatening to "go outside and sort it out" with E. 2 minutes later she was hugging (a very confused) E and we were all dancing together. The French, huh!

I called time when she started getting messages from the bartender, about 3:30am, saying he was heading somewhere else. No way. I had an early start for Saba the next day. E was too drunk to drive me home so we walked security guard-less (it's only about 200m) to pass out in various corners of the house. I snagged her super-comfy bed while she curled up in the foetal position on a couch in her lounge room, clothes strewn everywhere. Ahh, the life of a drunk.

I think I'm gonna miss this job

I'm glad I got to start at my normal 8am today, as I was a bit weary from the last two days of death I'd just had to experience. I'm one of those people who get completely drained by crying, and this was a right shitty turn of events. We still aren't completely sure what caused the horses to have such severe colic, suspect a bad batch of food, but we're just thankful the third pulled through with no noticeable side effects.

So it was a harrowing sight to see first thing in the morning the truck we use to cart around big loads drive by full of pallets to put on the pit that contained the second horse corpse we needed to burn. Burning is the best way to dispose of the bodies but it's a horrible thought. Paloma was a beautiful horse.

Onto the day's proceedings. It being a Friday, there weren't many rides booked - in fact, just one, and that strung up on me with no warning whatsoever. I thought it was a 2pm start, but they changed to 9am, and so my ambling pace in readying the horses turned to a quick saddle-up as my guests were walked up to the stables. One look at the couple and I had to saddle another more appropriate steed.

It was an odd American couple, who I'm not even sure was a couple, as I found out they lived in separate states, but the half-black guy had a strange facial make-up and brought with him goggles for the water part (paranoid about his contacts), while the hefty black girl had a coronary every time we went down a hill, insisting the horse was "trying to mess with her". No, sweetie, you just can't ride.

I was glad when it ended, they were a bit annoying to deal with, even saying the girl had nausea at one stage because of "all the ups and downs" - later admitting she wasn't drinking much of her water and hadn't actually had breakfast. I took them the shortcut to the water so they could get the hell out of my workplace and I could get on with my day. A $10 tip later and that promptly happened.

I was given a half-hour break before doing my next ride, who were waiting while I gulped down and toastie, and I instantly knew it was going to be a much more enjoyable experience. And older American couple, the woman had experience with horses from her younger years and really enjoyed Prince, while her husband was put on the same horse as the previous annoying girl and loved it. Both those horses love the water so it was a no-brainer that they'd like the end!

In the end, the Colorado/Denver area couple gave me their email address and said to look them up if I ever found myself in their neck of the woods. And gave me a $40 tip. What sweethearts! They are certainly welcome back!

Finally booked my ticket to Saba, a nearby island that was the set of the 70s King Kong movie, for Sunday. It was good timing, actually, as La, the kid's babysitter and now my friend, said she was up for it also. So I had a friend to go with! Great news, especially when I thought I was travelling solo. I'd forgotten I'd invited her a while back. Can't wait to see the little island, it looks so quaint and pretty on the sites I researched it on. I want to hike up the mountain and see the views from "the peak of the Netherlands Kingdom."

Was in charge of feeding today, as J had an afternoon ride, and things went swimmingly. For once, I didn't lose my rocker and managed to get everything sorted bang on 5pm. Boom. Even got to feed and stroke the little foal, almost 3 weeks now (my, how time flies) and brave enuf to feed out of my hand. Oh boy, she is CUTE! I need to get some photos of the bug-eyed little creature, she is becoming quite the star at the stables. I'm told it's time to start getting her acquainted with humans so I'm on the case!

Still no word from the lady who said she'd buy my horse, and the first half of the money was due at the end of January. I had a feeling this would happen. I'm still trying to get through to her, I can just see this dragging on. I'm back in Australia in a week, for goodness sake, the woman needs to sort her shit out!

There was a jump-up planned to run from Philipsburg to Marigot (from the Dutch town centre to the French), it happens every year as part of French Carnaval, but it was called off at the last minute due to conflicts with the 2 police departments or something. I think it's been rescheduled for next month, obviously no help for me! I had planned on checking it out, even though all the locals said something bad happens every year. Last year someone got stabbed in the gut and died in the middle of the crowd.

Instead, I went to Buccaneers with E and a few kids she had under her care. They ran around the beach bonfire while we chilled with a drink, me switching from beer as my stomach was getting stabbing pains. I feel like my body is going through my period without the bleeding - weird! And it's the second month it's happened... something's confused in there.

Heartache with animals: Part II

An early start today lent little promise to the outcome of the day, as I saw Paloma, one of the 3 horses struck with colic the other day (from the same batch at the now-deceased Ritchie), looking quite poorly. I tried to leave a bucket of fresh water by her as I readied the horses, but she looked bad. Bloated and constipated, just like Ritchie. But not quite as bad... I thought.

My own horse, Chico, was laying down in his stall when I went to get him for the ride. He often lays down in his stall, which is a bit weird but he rides OK still, I just worry it's a sign of exhaustion as he is worked every day I work and that is several rides a day. The boss and the owner of the horse (his good mate) told me I need to use him as much as possible, I just hope I'm not burning him out too soon. He's still only about 3!

I pulled him into action, a little stiff (maybe a result of yesterday's fall after I tried to leap a trench with him - the horse will never be a showjumper, that's for sure), but when I was on him he seemed fine. I hope so! Wouldn't want to be the one to ride him into the ground!

The rain of the morning thankfully cleared, leaving the sun to blaze through the clouds but also an insistent misty haze over the best part of our hilltop view. On a good day, you can see the islands of Saba, Stacia, St Kitts & Nevis and St Barths on one side, and Anguilla on the other. Only about half of that today. A bit of a struggle when stopping to kill time with the guests... would be much easier if I was born n raised here, and could just spout out some local folklore to entertain them!

I did 3 1-hour rides, the first a group who'd been booked into the stables on the French side by mistake but still wanted to ride with us. They were staying in the ritzy part of the island, by the French/Dutch border, so they started the tip train nice n early. The other 2 rides were fine, one with an entertaining group of three hungover from a night of partying on the cruise ship the night before. I get them occasionally but really, the cruise ships don't usually hold much of a party scene from what I hear.

The tips trickled in, and then I thought my day was almost done, when the sunset ride was re-assigned to me and I was on for 2 hours longer. Had tentatively planned to go to N's house and organise the photos she took of me, but that was called off as she was tired anyway. And so it was that I had the kinda freaky couple from the States that had me conjuring up all sorts of weird imagery in my head. All thanks to the officer manager telling me they'd bought a sex DVD from a guy selling at work earlier in the day.

They were in their early 60s, freshly married last year, and spent much of the ride telling me how they'd managed to save X amount on the event, as well as commenting on the price of things here. I threw in my 2 cents about the cost of living in St Maarten, just so they knew I was working for tips here. Still wasn't confident about getting anything, though.

There was just something creepy about the guy, and they were touchy-feely at the sunset point and that just grossed me out. Like my parents having a smooch. Wrong. I really wanted it to be over, spent my time trying not to have these images in my head about this gross guy... and the funny thing about them was that they would just do things, like come up to the horse area when they thought it was time (I was still helping with the horses) - in hindsight maybe wanting every penny spent to be worth it - and the just putting their helmets back on while the fire was still blazing to show they were ready to go. Just weird behaviour.

When we were mounting back up, I saw Paloma stagger up the hill looking very sickly indeed, lying down, rolling around, then getting up again. She even followed us a few steps along the path. I still don't know if she genuinely wanted to come with us or that was just the same way she'd decided to her walk of death. Animals often go away from the main area when they knew they were dying, and I feared that was exactly what she'd done.

I took the couple for a brief spell in the water, nothing special as it was dark, the horses weren't keen and there was a boat freaking them out right by the beach. Fine with me! Back to the stables it was. Thanks very much, hope you enjoyed it, oh, a tip? How kind. Even he said, "Here's something to buy you half a bottle of wine" as he handed over the fiver. You're right there, buddy.

When I told the boss where I'd seen Paloma, we jumped in the car and went in search for her to give her another injection. We found her. But there was no need for the injection. She'd found a spot on one of our paths and laid down for the last time. Yep, 2 horses in 2 days. A sad state of affairs. She was beautiful, too, an albino with blue eyes. Everyone always loved her. And she was a gentle spirit, too. Poor thing.

I solemnly got home, showered, cooked dinner, spoke with A about my day... but it so deeply saddened me. This is why I shouldn't work with animals. And I had to witness one of the security guys that keeps a dog by the old stables at my house kick him back into his cage (I dropped my bag at the time and commented it was because I just saw him kick his dog, to which he just grunted, the cunt). This is why some people shouldn't work with animals.

The heartache of working with animals

If anyone has ever looked into the eyes of a dying animal and not felt anything, they truly are a monster. I get profoundly affected by animals in distress, because we can't fully communicate with them and can only try to help when most often than not we are completely out of control of the situation.

This is how I felt today. One of the stable's best horses, Ritchie, had been sick with suspected colic the day before and was thought to be on the mend. In the majority of colic cases here, we inject the horse with something to make their body jerk back into normal rhythm, but it seems there was a little more to it this time. Colic, for those who don't know, is a potentially fatal condition that can occur from a multitude of factors but basically causes, if untreated, the twisting of the gut and/or a blockage of the inner organs.

I was told he was eating grass and drinking water like all the other horses yesterday, and looked to be adjusting well after his spell. In fact, there were 3 horses in total who had the condition that day and the other 2 responded equally as positively. They were totally fine today and unless I was told, would never have guessed they were sick the day before.

Ritchie, on the other hand, was deteriorating at a rapid pace. He kept wanting to lie down - a dangerous sign of colic and something you should always avoid to make the situation worse - then he started trembling, breaking out in a cold sweat... then his eyes started to glaze over, his gums losing colour as the blood went to other parts of the body in a rescue mission.

My boss told me to take him to the water, as that usually made him wanna poop, but even that wasn't enuf to get it out of him. And I know he was trying, but it was just stuck inside him. He needed to get it out and I tried, I tried so hard. I was swimming next to him as he walked/swam through the water, me pushing myself to push him. But it didn't work.

He was such a good boy. Tried so hard to make himself more comfortable. The boss and his wife both put their hands inside him to try and extract the bad stuf themselves, to no avail. He was getting worse and I couldn't do anything. The light in his eyes was dimming and I could see it. The boss wife started crying and it was all I could do not to show her my eyes were welling up too.

We moved him to the arena and let him roll around, trying to ease the suffering. The pain must have been unbearable for him. The vet eventually arrived, complaining that he had lots to do and was sick himself (just fucking fix the horse, you French cunt), and put the horse on a drip to hydrate him.

About this time, I left the others to it, thinking I was just another person in the way. I had a private ride to take out as well, having had my last ride given away when I was in the midst of emergency aid. Didn't care much about that. When I left, Ritchie was walking around by himself and seemed to be getting a little better. But his stomach was still stretched to capacity through bloating, and he was all dirty from rolling around the ground all day. I didn't know what to think.

I diverted my thoughts for 1.5 hours and managed to enjoy my ride with the American couple, the woman of which was an experienced eventer with a partner not so experienced but we let him tag along at the back anyway. They expressed their enjoyment thoroughly at the end, putting a tip in my hand that I only looked at a couple of hours later to discover was $60. Not bad for one ride!

Thankfully, it was only after I said thanks and goodbye that I learnt Ritchie had been put down. In the space of my 1.5 hour ride, a lot can happen - it seems. His condition got so bad it became obvious that keeping him alive was just cruel, and the vet had returned to end it all. I'm glad I wasn't there for that bit. But I knew something had happened as soon as I saw my rasta guide friend's eyes. He was the last one to ride the horse the day before so of course blamed himself. Poor sod.

The only positive to come out of the day - my private ride tipped me $60 which I didn't realise until after they left, and totally didn't expect. So that was brilliant, since it was the only ride I did and after every conversation I have with my boy, it's clear we're gonna need every cent we get to make a good start in Melbourne.

Rock n roll on the water

I woke to my alarm, my body clearly needing a little more sleep than I was permitting (no rest for the wicked as the clock ticks!!), and excited myself by remembering it was finally the day I was to do the Rock n Roll boat excursion with E. The excursion I had been trying to do for weeks, possibly even months.

Friday's ride had been cancelled due to lack of numbers, so I rescheduled for Tuesday, but given the unreliable track record of the booking agency, I was fully expecting them to cock it up once I arrived. In fact, I'd already worked myself up by the time I'd gotten to their office that I was pleasantly surprised to find they actually had me booked in. Albeit under a different name, but still I was there.

E hadn't arrived and soon after I received a frantic call from her saying she was stuck in traffic as the bridge had opened to let some boats through. She made good time, however, and we didn't delay the 10am start. Even better, I found a pretty beaded anklet on the ground whilst talking to her and it fits perfectly! Bueno.

So we were set to go. E hopped in the front of the boat for the first part, her having her boating license and me wanting to watch how it all worked before trying it myself. The guide explained us simply how to use the dinghy/jet ski type boat, it seemed easy enuf, and we went roaring around "trying it out". The guide didn't seem perturbed that we were going fast or tearing around the corners, so we did it until he got into his "mothership" and commenced the tour.

The ride out to Creole Rock took us through Simpson Bay lagoon and into the French side, bringing with it beautiful views of the island from the water. The change in scenery once you're over the French side really is striking, the buildings disappearing to make way for more lush and vibrant greenery. The water was at times quite choppy and E had to steer with both arms to ensure we didn't topple over.

At Creole rock, a protected marine reserve, there was plenty to see - in fact, as we sat bobbing around trying to secure our masks I saw something large glide below E's feet. I pointed and we stuck our heads under just in time to catch a big, black sting ray with white spots. Never seen one of them before! Otherwise, we just saw some beautifully coloured fish roaming around and some nice coral.

We made sure to document the experience on my camera, gladly so as we ended up getting some great photos. Us looking completely stupid, but what's new huh?? Only thing that annoyed me was my mask while snorkelling, it just wouldn't stop leaking! I tried everything but maybe it was just faulty. I thought of asking the guide to help, but I didn't want to distract him from his BBM conversation. At it was, the water got cold when the sun disappeared behind some clouds and the wind continued to blow, so us and the other couple on the trip called time.

Then it was my turn to drive back... oh yeah! I rode those waves like a mother, no turning back. It was so much fun, much easier than I expected but it felt rougher on the way back - maybe my driving was just rougher? I know one thing - I tailgated the fuck outta the guide, wonder if I got on his nerves. Reminds me of the people that tailgate me on trails. Ha!

At the end, we gave a tip (not much but something, locals don't usually tip me!) and I mentioned that I knew L. The guide said he already knew who I was and remembered the time L and I came by to get beers, and also quoted some other places he'd seen me on the island. It's creepy when people do that here.

After the ride, E and I had a nice lunch on the balcony of this little cafe (ribs for me! Rah rah rah!!) and then she drove me home, having to go get her boss from the airport. I didn't really know what else to do, and I couldn't even do my washing as the cord for the machine had gone walkabout. So I just chilled, and eventually the cord reappeared and I could get my wash on. Such is my exciting life these days.

N had invited me to La Bamba, and I'd casually said yes, but then I got an interview for the travel agent job in Melbourne and it ended up translating to about 7pm my time on Tuesday night. So I went to Pineapple Pete's to make the Skype call (straining my ears to hear between Lady GaGa in the background, how very professional) and it went well, the recruitment guy sending me through to the next level which includes an online aptitude test and then an invitation to the assessment day which falls the day after I arrive in Melbourne - perfect!

So things are falling into place nicely...

Feelin' the "ron"...

Like Sunday, I arrived to work with no booked rides but a little more optimism, as Mondays traditionally attract more walk-ins than a Sunday. As it was, the day only offered us one ride, which I took. It was a family of 3 from Canada, a lovely bunch actually. Canadians pretty much are always great to take on rides. And WHAT a contrast with the Indian brat I took yesterday!! Can't even begin to compare. This girl was such a little sweetie!

They enjoyed themselves thoroughly and I wasn't surprised when they tipped me. OK, I officially don't judge Canadians for not tipping anymore! And they are certainly more grateful of the experience than a lot of other countries I've had - including Australians. So that broke my day up a little, otherwise it was just the daily chores which was fine. At least we could be out on time today.

Or... maybe not.

Thanks to a kid's birthday party in the afternoon, we had pony rides. And I'm not talking 1 or 2, about 15! As soon as I saw all the eager kids, I sent for 2 more horses. More help!! They were mostly nice kids, some too big for me to even lift up (I got one boy to use the "grown-up" method of putting his foot in the stirrup and hoisting himself up - ha!) but all screaming at me I'M NEXT I'M NEXT I'M NEXT! Jeeeeeeesus... talk to the woman in charge, I'm not entering into this.

Of course, they started the rides about 4pm so it meant we had to stop feeding the horses and attend to the kiddies. And then it was more overtime. The boss must be loving this! Everything on the island takes so long and no one can be bothered to get their asses over here til the afternoon - doesn't make it so profitable for a business like ours!

The party also meant my laptop battery was run completely flat, as I volunteered my machine to play music through the speakers and the kids could do some kind of hideous Miley Cyrus karaoke. I told them only to use it for that half-hour, but they used it until it died and I then had no way of contacting A after work to see how the move went (we've got the house - officially!). To me, one code of conduct when using someone's electronic device is not to run it dead. Maybe it's just me...

I had Tuesday off, but was still not keen on going out drinking as I had the Rock n Roll tour to do the next day (well, I was hoping... still had a sneaking suspicion they'd cock up the reservation somehow and say we weren't in the books). So as soon as I'd finished my pina colada at work, I hot-footed it out of there and away from the kids to chill at home.

After that drink, I had a severe hankering for something sweet and alcoholic, and beer wasn't going to cut it, so I looked in the supermarkets for something like rum punch but ended up going down to the Chinese cornerstore for some cheap "ron" (I think I remember that was rum in Spanish??) and apple nectar juice. Wasn't really what I had anticipated (I guess cheap means cheap) and I opted for juice only in the last champagne glass (I use champagne glasses cos that's all they have in the communal kitchen cupboard - hell no am I buying my own when I'm about to leave!).

So it was back to me, my bed and my Bob Marley biography. Which is almost finished. As am I. Here. I've even got a job interview scheduled for Tuesday night for the travel agent job I applied for in Melbourne. Well, it sounds like the first of a step of interviews, really, but it's a good start.

The Indian brat

My last Sunday. And it was as slow as Sundays ever can be. We had not one ride booked for the day, and no cruise ships to speak of. Well, there were a couple in the dock but not ones that had contracts with us. And everyone seems to be that little bit lazier on a Sunday. Most of them probably didn't get off the boat!

I suggested to E she should come today as it was much less busy than the day before, but she was stuck at home for some reason I couldn't quite catch from our quick FB conversation. Never mind, I had a list of things to do so I just ploughed on with that.

Despite a few-hour power and water cut (I suggested eating all the icecreams as they would "probably just spoil in the heat" - my suggestion was ignored), I actually managed to keep myself busy for the whole day. The power returned for my lunch, resetting the internet thankfully so I was back online! No more Pineapple Pete's! And then - as happened the last Sunday J and I worked - just as we were about to feed and finish off for the day, two big rides came!

I had 6 Indian people, J had 5 local black kids. I was by far dealt the harshest blow. The one child on my ride was the most annoying, ill-behaved little shit I have met in quite a while. I swear if my kid ever ends up like that, he's going up for adoption. Put into a basket and left on the pastor's doorstep. So many times I wanted to yank his poor horse (Wildflower, the 32-year-old veteran at the farm) to the side suddenly and cause him to fall off. As it was, I just smiled and repeated myself: "Please don't tug on the reins, why are you pulling the horse back? You don't need to kick, please don't pull on her mouth..." And so on.

My patience wearing thin about as quickly as the soles of my cowboy boots, I was supremely glad it was just one hour and not two. The water was not really a highlight for the adults, who were mostly first-time riders and didn't really want to go in much at all. The little boy, of course, left the beach with a trail of, "Is that all? Can't we go back in? Oh, come on! I want more time in the water!" Never mind his mum was shitting balls behind him.

They actually tipped me $10 at the end, the father giving me a, "Here's something to live on, great job" kinda look. Yeah, $10 for the 6 of you?? Including your brat?? Try five-fucking-hundred!! At least it was something, though...

The cows hung about nearby for once, the Haitians doing daily cut-backs of the bushland and creating more space for the animals to roam around. So I literally just walked behind the beasts and opened their gate. Woot! No cactus scratches for me today!

So, in the end, we worked overtime after a really slow day - well, at least we got overtime pay! I'd heard my Rasta colleague I was playing with his band this night, but his sister (the office manager) was sketchy on details so I reminded myself to ask her later. Well, she left pretty quickly as I was packing up after my ride and I didn't get a chance to ask her where it was. I know he'd have wanted me to see him play just once before I left, but really, when she'd already left, I didn't have the energy to chase it up.

Need to lay low, after all, it's less than two weeks now until I leave the island. Gotta have that mulah at the ready!

Cruise ships keep 'em coming

Another 5-ride day marked a busy Saturday for me, but not necessarily a super busy Saturday for the company. We had people in and out all day, but only 3 guides so it could have been busier. We could have had all 5 guides in there, working their butts off... but some days are just slower, I guess.

4 of 5 of my rides were cruise ship, so that made it a bit boring. The same route, the same speeches, the same flotation devices and helmets, the same slow pace... The cruise ship really does limit the amount of fun one can have on these rides! I always feel for the advanced riders, who may not have known they could've booked a faster ride, and get stuck with mostly beginners on a walking-only trail on the simplest path we have. It's something about access for ambulances should we need it, and a certain contract we've drawn up - a painstaking process - with the cruise ship companies.

Got a lunch break, which was cool (didn't think I'd get one), and sat counting the money I'd stashed in my pocket as the day wore on. The first ride I thought didn't tip me anything (all people my age on a 70-strong Christian group cruise) but then found they'd left $10 for me, then the next ride $25, the next another $25, then about $40 from the fourth. So I had hit $100 as I munched on my homemade sandwich/muffin lunch. Sweet.

I was about to help with feeding when a young American couple walked in wanting a private ride, and I was put on it. They were actually a really cool couple and I enjoyed the ride. They couldn't ride that well, so we did a couple of trots and even a canter but I kept it low-key. I could tell the girl preferred walking at any rate.

They were complimentary through the whole ride and I took great pictures of them in the water as the sun came down, so I was confident they'd tip me. They did, a reasonable amount, and I was past the $100 mark, clean n clear! Then a bit of overtime to scurry it along. Fantastic!

N said she'd give me a lift home, but asked on the way if I'd like to go to dinner at a place her friend (who lives next door to me) cooks at. I said, sure, if Polly can come (she was already in the car) and so N, her daughter E and L, who'd just finished a kid's birthday party at Seaside, all went to the restaurant. We sat in the open air for a moment before it started to piss down, and I ran in sheltering my laptop to get wifi without ruining my machine.

Now we'd kissed n made up (oh, if only we could actually kiss!), A was keen to get online with me and I caught him just woken up at my friend's house who he'd met just recently and run into again on the street walking home wasted. They offered to let him couch-crash, since he had no idea how to get home, and so there he was, at the house of the friends I used to hang with in London. A little weird, to be honest.

We video-chatted for a bit then my whole red snapper came and I had to excuse myself to devour it. Had already sent my updated CV off too, to my friend in the travel business. Fingers crossed his recommendation gets me somewhere! Apparently I promised to come back online but I forgot, also couldn't be rude to my company. Spent half the night chastising N's daughter on manners - goodness knows how she ended up like that when N is so lovely.

Polly wandered around, following me if I got up even to go to the toilet, but otherwise finding a place out of the wind and rain to rest. She is so sweet and I wish I could take her to Australia with me - the boss would totally let me as he cares little for the adopted pet - but I think she's 15-17 years old and the journey alone would stress her health to the point I think it could kill her. And this apartment A has found for us is definitely pet-free. Boo. Oh well, only a 3-month contract. Then I can start the menagerie.

Zipping through St Maarten

I woke with a gentle breeze flowing through the windows, the duck down quilt encasing me in a cuccoon of warmth and the mattress below me sunk just that perfect amount to make it feel I was sleeping on nothing at all. By far the most luxurious setting I have woken to in St Maarten, the mansion that my Canadian friend E lives in made up for its eery emptiness in one sweet morning.

Feeling a little sketchy from the previous night's debauchery, we took our time having breakfast and surfing the net. I ran smack-bang into an angry boyfriend, concerned about my behaviour when drunk (long story) but he was drunk this time so probably a bit more animated than he would've been. Eventually he retired to bed and I could get on with my day, hoping to rectify things the next time we spoke.

So today was to be our Loterie Farm adventure day, because our Rock n Roll Rhino tour was cancelled due to lack of numbers. Except that E was held back at the mansion to meet her boyfriend online from England, annoyed that he was taking up so much of the day she wanted to spend hiking and exploring the island with me. I was also getting a bit impatient, not wanting to waste the day, and eventually figured I would have to get to Loterie Farm myself. I was determined to do that zipline!

E dropped me home to shower etc and I called N to see if she was able to come to the farm with her car. After another no, I begrudingly resigned to getting their on public transport, not really my ideal as the hill I have to climb to Loterie Farm is HUGE from the bus stop and in this heat.... grrrrr.

As it happened, as things happen on this island, I ran into a friend on his motorbike who said he was going to the French side and would take me. Yay! Except that he fucks around lik,e an old nanna doing everything, so I had to accompany him to his boss' house (the old English guy from a while back with the speedboat), wait while he changed, then stop every few minutes to get diverted somewhere else - "Oh,I forgot my keys! Shit, we need helmets for the French side! I need to buy a car battery." I felt like we'd never get there.

In the end, I got there. Almost 2 hours after I saw the guy in the street originally. Weaving in and out of traffic, mostly with no helmet on, clutching him for my life (he told me to relax). Craziness. I walked in and was half an hour early for the last zipline ride of the day. The guy at reception gave me an icy introduction and ended up being my guide - this will be fun, I thought.

I tried to warm him up on the truck ride to the peak starting point, and eventually he started to thaw. Turned out to be quite a nice guy, just more reserved and "speak when I'm spoken to" kinda vibe. Built and quite handsome, I was glad I wore the t-shirt most likely to get sweat marks and got all hot from the humid tropical forest around us. Well, I'm not picking him up so really, it doesn't matter. I am still a girl, though, at the end of the day!

I was a bit worried about the zipline, thinking I'd get scared of the heights or burn my hand trying to slow down with my glove on the cable. None of that happened. In fact, I was not one bit worried about how high up I was and picked it up really quickly. It was so fun, whizzing through the trees and looking at the stunning view of the French side of the island. Couldn't look too much, though, or I'd run into the tree at the other end!

The guide ended up being my personal assistant, as I was the only one riding that afternoon. Pretty sweet! I gave him a tip at the end, but I couldn't afford much. I just hate when residents come to ride and don't tip me, so I didn't want to be the same. He offered to give me a lift into Marigot which would save the hills again and just mean a simple bus ride back to my house. Actually, he also offered to let me come back to use the zipline again for free for some exercise on a Sunday. I just may take him up on that!

I'd had a guavaberry colada waiting for him to finish work, and it was awfully sweet so I felt a bit sick afterwards. After all that activity I guess I should have stuck to the water. I laid down on my bed and read a book at home, still a bit shaky from the night before. I called it a night early, cooking dinner and just chilling, even though it was a Friday. Well, I usually just chill on a Friday, hell no to getting loose and having a heavy head on a Satuday at work! We're almost always busy.

A called me in the night, when he'd sobered up, and we talked things through. All is well once again. I'm glad, I hate fighting with him. I think he's the same, so we usually straighten things out fairly quickly. And then it was sleeeeeeeeeeeepy time for me. A nice, quiet night in.

Drunk at Maho Mansion

I probably should have given myself a sleep-in after the previous day's hecticness, but alas - there is but limited days until I jet off the island. So instead I found myself up and ready to roll for my first ever Zumba fitness class, held just up the road at 10am.

I'd been wanting to do it virtually since I got to St Maarten but have never gotten around to it, so this was my day. And I am so glad I did it! 2 things threw my expectations a little: I was the youngest in the class (which wasn't too big on the day I went) and the instructor was a white French woman. I was kinda hoping to be amongst a group of bootylicious black women shakin' what their mammas gave 'em, but it seemed more popular with white people actually! The instructor was nice, though, if she did lack a little in Latino rhythm.

I was sweating from the humidity in and outside the dance studio before I even started, so you can imagine how I dripped as the class wore on! I swear I sweated 2x as much as everyone else, but at least I picked up the steps quickly and could relate a lot of the moves to my behaviour on a Saturday night in the clubs. Back in the day when I would go to clubs - ha!

Afterwards, I had perked up considerably from my zombie-like morning state and ready to take on the world. On my own in that task, it would seem. E was stressing from too many errands to make, N was working and as always trying to do a million things at once, I didn't want to call L as I assume he is still unemployed and that is always a drain on socialising. So that was my friends list completely scratched.

An unexpected day off... well, I had to do something with it! Tried my luck - unsuccessfully - at Seaside with the internet, missing a downpour by an inch, then arranged to meet N in about an hour for a quick photo shoot on horseback by the water. Just enuf time to get to Pineapple Pete's for a cheap beer and internet excursion.

Of course N was late, but it gave me time to get the horse, Tom, a big, beautiful Haflinger of rich chestnut colour with a brilliant blonde mane, ready for action. He's a bit of an ass of a horse, in truth, and I don't really like his personality but he turns out great photos! So I hopped on board sans saddle, with my long hippy skirt flowing over the sides and across his rump. Like the princess I am!

We got some shots up by the sunrise point, Tom whinnying away as he has massive separation anxiety issues, my body quivering with the mighty noises, the wind blowing his mane about, ears pricked forward. He looked every bit the mighty stallion. I, on the other hand, clambered about on top trying to look nice. Still don't know if I succeeded.

Quick costume change for the water and in we went. Tom absolutely loves it so we were able to actually swim out deep with me floating above, legs flailing about in the air, still trying to look sexy. Still not sure if I succeeded there either. But it was fun, nonetheless, and I'm glad we got at least some shots in before I left! Hard to catch, N is.

That done n dusted, Polly, N and I piled onto N's motorbike (Polly sandwiched in between us, no complaints, bless her) and I was back at home wondering what to do. A had by now secured the place he had really wanted, good little organiser that he is, and so I needed to get back to the internet and organise a bank transfer of the bond and first month rent. Which turned out to be way more complicated than we'd hoped.

Went into town to get quotes for the ferry to St Barths and try to sort out a couple of errands - mainly just bought a pretty silk maxi and some guavaberry rum to take home - but it was productive nonetheless. Got the prices for the boat and also spoke with the lady from one of the activity companies who gave me her prices for the trips as well. I will get everything done before I leave!

E invited me to her place, the mansion by the sea, to chill out so I took my laptop and sorted out the money problems while she helped the kid she nannies with his homework. I ended up having to ask my dad to front the money because neither of our credit cards would work, blah blah blah, anyway he said yes thankfully and did it a couple of hours later. Also spoke with A for a while, actually crying when he off-handedly described the flat as being "a great first home". Cried! What's wrong with me? I blame it on mental and physical exhaustion. Not that that makes me wanna slow down...

Then came the drinks.

We started innocently enuf, sharing a bottle of wine... then E coyly asked if I wanted another bottle, and I said of course (I wasn't working the next day!). We hunted for what looked like a cheaper bottle in the fridge, and chose a hideous chardonnay which we needed to disguise in smoothie cocktails (of course). And I think that's where it went downhill from... Before I knew it, E was diving stark-naked into the pool while I spoke animatedly with A on Skype and the random guy we met at the bar the other night dropped in. Actually, that's out of order - he most definitely had left when the nakedness started.

Anyway, we ended up consuming a fair amount of alcohol and A found it highly amusing, it being about brunch time where he was. Next thing I knew E had crashed on the top level (no. 4) guest bedroom, still in her birthday suit, and I was in her amazingly comfortable bed with a duck-down quilt softly caressing my body. It was, unsurprisingly, the best sleep I've ever had in St Maarten. Mmmm... I tingle just thinking about it.

Do the rides ever end.... e....v....e...r??

Another torrential downpour overnight ensured the mud returned in full force at work. In fact, it was even raining when I was looking to leave in the morning. Bahhh! I waited for it to ease and walked to work with a towel covering my head. The people here hate being outside in the rain and some just won't come to work until it's stopped - me, I'm a trooper. Rain, hail or shine, I'll be there.

There were 3 of us guides on this day, so we saddled 19 horses. Not nearly enuf, as it would seem. The rides POURED in, heavier than even the rain (which thankfully subsided after its little spurt in the morning), and we worked worked WORKED to get them moving through.

Funnily enuf, we were dead until 10am so we got everything ready before the onslaught. I think there were 7 cruise ships in (the dock can hold 10 in a day with 2 out in the water ferrying passengers in), so it was pretty busy, and the weather turned out perfect for riding. So it was all on for young and old, quite literally.

We called in another guide, who came and instantly rode out to find all the horses we'd let out for a day off. I came back at one point to see guests riding all sorts of horses we'd never usually put guests on. I was like, ahh Tornado? Bandolera? I on the boss wife's horse, Spirit? What's going on? No one was spared.

They came in droves. Every time I came back from a ride, I helped my guests off their horses, gave them their shoes (we take them off for the water part of the ride at the end) and I would walk them down - as I walked, someone would pass me with another group and say, "I've got these 6 for you when you're ready." Geeeeez. No rest for the wicked.

I ate a toastie on the way back from taking one of my groups down, no lunch break to be seen, and put a smile on my face. "Welcome to Seaside Nature Park!" And it begins again...

Tips were decent, not as good as the day before, but still a healthy amount. I may have gotten more had I hung around after the ride, but that was just not a possibility this day. It was good, though, as I didn't notice the day pass. Every ride was an hour so I didn't need my phone to check the time, and before I knew it, I was on my last ride and it was almost 5pm.

I told my boss it was a good thing my rides stopped at #5, as I was going a bit delirious and may well have laughed like a madwoman and run screaming into the beach to end my days. In front of the tourists. But as it was, the day did end. And we got out just a little late. I was glad of that. It was good we had an extra guide on so things moved fast at the end.

There were no incidents, at least not with me, just one horse trying to roll who had a non-English speaking rider on it. Actually, that was one of those German rides that I hate - except luckily this time I was out on a ride so they couldn't put me on it! J was VEX about going on it, told me he was telling the boss never again. They can hardly understand me, I can only imagine how hard it is to decipher the Caribbean take on English.

So off I traipsed to Pineapple Pete's again in search of internet, and found myself a new spot (confused all the wait staff) out of the wind tunnel I usually sit in. The nights can get chilly with the wind at the moment and it's a little darker there - A complains enuf as it is that he can't see my face!

Had an over-enthusiastic waitress interrupt my Skype time a bit, and also my cuddle time with a shy dog that hangs around the bar. Nevermind. A was getting ever-closer to bagging his dream flat for us so he was excited. Is so good to video with him, I miss his gorgeous face. Usually it's just voice calls.

This time there was no rain shower on my way home, thank god! I collapsed in bed, then saw 2 missed calls from work and thought, hmm what's up?? Turns out they didn't need me in the next day and said I could still have my regular Friday off as I had plans for that day. Sweet! An extra day off up my sleeve. I need that to get all the things ticked off my To Do list! Then it was off into a delirium-driven sleep..........

The manky chicken tanty

I think I beckoned the tip gods in my sleep, because today was an unusually large tip day. More likely, we just got rich people coming in. Either way, it worked out fine for all us guides, and I pocketed more than $100 for the second time since working here. They say that used to be the norm but times have changed.

It was a good day also because I only had to do 3 rides for that amount, and they were fun rides. The best was the one with 4 gay guys and 1 woman. I was hoping they'd spread the love my way, as gay people tend to have more disposable income (from having no kids I guess??), and I was right. They loved it and rewarded me as such. Even my cruise ride tipped well!

Got to work and Polly was there, I guess she really did sleep there after her little tanty the day before. Maybe she slept in the tack room? Either way, I felt so guilty that she may not have been fed that I gave her my chicken bones when I'd cleaned them off even though I know there's a danger they could splinter in her throat...

At the end of my rides, I just had to help with feeding and we were finished bang on 5pm. The day was good! I didn't hang around work as I didn't get on the internet again and needed to see what the update was with A and all his house-hunting. Sidenote, actually... I mentioned to L the other day that A was "house-hunting" and he took it to mean he was hunting around houses for girls haha! The difference in cultures huh...

Went to Pineapple Pete's and could E online for a moment, and told her she was welcome to join me for a drink at the bar. She went offline and I didn't expect to see her, but as I was talking with A she popped up behind me and caught me off guard. I said a temporary goodbye to an impatient A, promising to be back soon, and had a catch-up with E.

Then it was back to A, talking flats and Melbourne and jobs and the boring stuf that comes with semi-settling. Urgh, even the word sends shivers down my spine! But I am actually really excited about it, it's just been a while since I've stayed in one place for more than 3 months. But it seems to be coming together slowly but surely, and I'm sure he'll have it sorted by the time I get home. Makes my job easy!

Met a torrential downpour head-on as I tried to venture out to the road home. Was actually on the phone to A as I saw it, him excitedly telling me that in the minutes since we hung up on Skype he'd heard back from the agent with the "perfect place" he'd been wanting to get. Things were looking up - at least for one of us. I hung up and stood, shivering, waiting, wishing, hoping... in the end, I just braved the lighter rain and half-run home, clutching my laptop away from the wet drops. Ah, how you curse me, tropics!

No more salt fish!!

Another day off - well, not completely. I was asked to come in for one special guest ride, a half hour water experience with 4 Americans that was easy enuf to do since I was already at Seaside to use the internet. So I earnt $10 tip and some overtime on swimming in the water with horses. My job could be worse.

The people wanted me to take pictures with their camera, encased in an elaborate waterproof thing, and I agreed as I didn't think the photographer was coming... then I saw her there and I felt bad she might lose a sale. As luck would have it, the battery ran out on their camera so they ended up buying the pics from A anyway. They really are great quality photos, I would probably buy them too if I was a tourist. Instead, I get them for free before I leave from both photographers!

Left with Polly, but she didn't end up coming home as she tried to eat a manky old chicken bone from the street and when I wouldn't let her, throwing it over a fence, she got all sulky at me and turned her heels. She didn't even come home with R at the end of the day, just stayed overnight at work. Stubborn old thing!

So the internet didn't work at work. Another temperamental day for either my computer or the internet, but either way it was annoying and meant I was back at Pineapple Pete's to get access to my mail. Had to go to the restaurant instead of the sports bar but somehow managed to still get $2 beers. Some kind of happy hour, perhaps? I never know. The wait staff do know me by now so maybe... yeah, who knows.

Organised to meet La and E in Philipsburg to go get a quote for the hairdresser to "finesse" my dreds, and then realised that in our fart-assing around to wait for E to pick me up, find a park, wait for La... it wasn't actually much time before E had to get her nanny-boy from school. I used the opportunity to get a lift to the bank near my house and finally cash the cheques I had been asking for since the cut-off of my monthly pay.

N had asked me to go to La Bamba to see her friend play an open mic kinda night, so I accepted - just before dinner. Dinner - urgh!! What an event! I had bought some salt fish from the corner shop (funnily enuf, the place to go for your groceries, the supermarket is actually more expensive than the local corner shops) and thought I'd tackle it as the locals seem to like it, and hey it can't be that hard.

It was that hard.

I chose to just cook it up on the fry pan, and toss it into the stir fry kinda rice I had going on. Let me tell you, it completely contaminated my rice and veggies with its ultra salty taste, and I almost wretched halfway through. But I was determined. No meal of mine would be wasted! Well, it should've been. It was horrible. And I am certainly not trying the second half of that packet, it can go to hell. And die. Or better yet, be charity to my much worthier local neighbours. They'd probably love it. I hate it. With a passion.

It made me feel all funny and I was almost going to cancel on N but I thought I needed the fresh air. She picked me up and I went along, telling her the story. At La Bamba, I drank some soda and water, and then plucked up the courage for a rum punch. All the while, there were some mildly and moderately talented people it their all on stage. Well, I'm being harsh, a couple of them were really talented but it was just locals doin' their thang and it was nice.

Actually, gave me the idea of getting a guitar for A in Melbs and him and I starting to learn some cover songs and develop some of our own. Would be so cute to have a boyfriend girlfriend tag team on stage - if we ever got to be on a stage! Maybe someone's backyard pub or something...

Anyway, I digress... tried to make conversation with N's friends who I largely had met before but didn't have that much to say to, but for the most part, just stared blankly into space while putting together some daydream about what could be if, if, if......... Which was about the time I started talking to a nice Scottish lad and his Belgian flight attendant friend who of course I assumed was gay from his job but who I think was definitely straight.

After some time dealing with attention from guys limited to passer-bys whistling or some random guy saying hello, I hadn't actually had a proper pick-up attempt for a while. This Scottish guy, completely not my type, gave it a crack and it actually made me feel funny! Like, is he seriously trying to pick me up? Cute! But no. No thanks. I think by the time he'd dropped the lines (very sweet lines too) I'd mentioned my boyfriend so it was just a throwaway thing, but it's nice to know some people still think nice things about me.

Shortly after, we were on our way home and I was looking very much towards getting home and getting to sleep. Back to work the next day and man, I needed those tips!

First taste of Carnaval St Maarten

I woke leisurely without an alarm on my Sunday off, the sounds of Christianity already creeping into my eardrums as my old neighbour cranked his wireless with songs of praise. Every Sunday the same thing. I even know the words to some of them now.

First port of call, Seaside for the internet. Ended up running to the shop in the photographer's car to buy more CDs for the burning of the riding photos, which still didn't fix the problem, and there was stress as the bloody taxi drivers still pressured us to let them take the tourists back to town.

With E still incommunicado without phone, I called up La and arranged to meet her near the bus stop to check out the French side. She was unsuccessful in finding a hire car as it's high season, so we grudgingly accepted it was a bus all the way to Grand Case. On the way to the bus stop, we tried one more car rental and succeeded! She took it for 3 days as that was the minimum, me chipping in some money for the first day and petrol, and then she found out there was a "jump up" (bloc party / parade) for the French side pre-carnaval celebrations.

Change of plans!

Off we headed to Marigot to see it kick off, with all the trucks and their huge speaker systems, crazy costumes and locals dressed in stripey rainbow socks dancing around the streets. It was pretty cool. Except for the rude boys. Not cool. Just troublemakers. I wonder how many of them will ever realise the harder they try to be "cool", the more moronic they look.

Everyone from little girls in ripped off the shoulder t-shirts to a single, old white man in a "Stop Killing, Start Living" t-shirt who apparently comes every year and every age in between, everyone was getting into it. There were some groups behind the trucks with banners, I guess different organisations, and then at one point a truck was trailed by the "anything goes" contingent, mainly rude boys jumping about aggressively to the ultra loud soca music blasting from the speakers.

The streets aren't huge in Marigot and I guess they misjudged a corner, but at one point a road sign (probably advertising the tight turn) was lost to the carnaval gods, bent slowly to the ground by a back tire.

In general, the shops and houses in Marigot are much quainter and very sweet compared to the Dutch side, much more character and a definite European influence. Instead of American. Which I am sick of.

As the parade weaved around the streets, we thought we'd seen enuf and headed back to the car. Next stop, Loterie Farm. Hard to access without your own car, I have taken a long time to get there, but today seemed a perfect time. Unfortunately, we were too late for the zipline, and again I missed the opportunity to do it (before I go, please!!), but we got to sit in the well-designed lounge bar in amongst luscious greenery of mango trees and all sorts of local plantings.

The bar was actually the classiest I'd seen in St Maarten - it actually felt more like I was in Santorini than this island - and I got to check out the famed pool that they charge people 20 euros to use. Beautiful, yes, refreshing, surely, but not worth 20 euros. Would be an amazing party venue, though.

During our bottle of Savignon Blanc and tapas (I introduced La, a St Maarten native, to Brie), A called me to update me on all happenings in Melbourne. He's thrown himself into house and job-hunting, respectively, despite my opinion it should be the other way around. I think he's just so sick of moving about and not having "his" own space that right now it's coming ahead of everything else. And I guess he'd feel pretty good about having it all sorted before I arrived - I won't lie, I wouldn't mind it either!

La then dropped me home so I could meet L for a long-planned for drink at one of the Spanish bars in the ghetto he lives in by my house. It wasn't all that exciting actually, I think we went too early but basically it was in the thick of the hills (so glad I had an escort, those streets are confusing!) and belting our music so loud we had to go sit in the carpark next to the rubbish dump to actually hear each other talk. As it was, with his thick Caribbean accent, I had to ask him to repeat himself every sentence.

I just stayed for one beer, it wasn't that interesting and I didn't like that he took me out with no money of his own (still jobless). Yes, OK, beers were only $1.50 but I'm a woman of principle. So I was happy with La called to say she was still keen to go to Boo Boo Jams with S, the bar girl from work. Taking full advantage of having a car, we headed to the French-side bar on Orient Beach (the most well-known beach on the island).

Since they last went, lots had changed. They now charged $5 entry fee and it was an older crowd. The bartender also sucked, actively serving every male around me and blatantly spitting on the "ladies first" general rule of life. Here I was thinking chivalry was not dead on this island.

It was pretty boring, to be honest, and most of the people on the dancefloor were couples doing some brand of salsa. The live band did throw in a couple of Spanish music hits that even I knew, so La and I had a bit of a boogie. Got kinda sick of having gross, fat, older black men asking S and La to dance. Guess I was the unwanted white meat in a black sandwich there. No complaints!

Then we noticed some coloured lights being thrown onto the water by the bar next to us. What's going on there?? Shortly after, I found myself dancing along the sand barefoot with S wearing my flip flops. The music was much better - actually not really the kind I'd usually dance to (pop and dance hits) but just what I felt in the mood for. And I do love dancing in the sand. I still don't know what that place was...

We didn't stay long as La had to work the next day. Fine with me, was just glad to get out on the French side at least once before I go.