Happy day, Happy Bay!

Happy would be a good theme word for today. My long-awaited day off, it also signalled the first time I actually got together with E, the lovely Canadian girl I'd met more than a month ago at Buccaneers the night I went out with the girls from one of my rides. She'd come over to meet the family she would nanny for, and having gotten along with them, been invited back as an employee.

She picked me up and from there we headed to Marigot, where we eventually found Fort Louis. Not the best signage in this island, but it being an island - and not an island in the Australia sense - it didn't take long to find the stairs. Actually, although I was puffing, it was an easy journey and there were no gates or entry fees so I was happy. It was quite a small fort so I guess it just formed part of the larger landscape of the quaint little French town.

Then it was time to check out this Happy Bay so many people had spoken to me about. I looked at the map and found Friars Bay was the closest to it, and knowing that I had to hike a small time there, I guessed there would be some kind of path. I was right. The kind (but suggestive) man at the bar at Friars stupidly told us there was a beer-buying opportunity at Happy Bar and that the path was "just over there." OK, thanks, cya later, no money for your business!

The walk to Happy Bar was sweet, super easy and very cute. The view was beautiful on my left, the sprawling coastline, and on my right, a crude kind of farmland with the odd cow pat and closable gate to indicate an effort of cultivation. Before we knew it, we were at Happy Bay and... happy.

Some of the first people I saw were naked and I thought at first we'd made all this effort for the wrong kind of beach, then I scanned across and realised it just seemed like an "anything goes" kinda place. I certainly didn't mind the old fatties getting their willies out, I only hope to be like that one day with A. I was more concerned about E, who has a naturally inoffensive side that I supposed wouldn't fair well with that kind of openness.

So I left my top on.

We sat in the sun, drinking beers, and wishing we'd brought the cooler she'd packed in the boot of the car (she'd been way overprepared then actually taken nothing when we set off for Happy). Nonetheless, we managed to down the beers soon enuf that they didn't too cold. We're committed, if nothing else.

Went for a couple of swims, the water being mildly chilly (maybe the wind) and a little rough (E gave up on her hair scarf after getting unceremoniously dumped), and then watched the clock for the time E had to collect the boy she nannied from school. We munched on fresh fruit - the best I'd had in a while since her boss owned the chain of Gourmet Mache fruit n veg shops on the island - even mango (!!), and then got to school to find the boy had been invited to another friend's house for playing, dinner and whatever else. It was a Friday night so no school the next day. She sighed, wishing they'd told us BEFORE we left the beach.

Not sure exactly what to do with the extra time, we went back to her house - nay, mansion - to chill out. It is right by the airport in Maho and on the water, I mean the back (or front?) yard is the sea. It's crazy. Pimpin' Penthouse pad if ever I saw one. Unfortunately, it had that all-too-familiar emptiness of a big house with no one to fill it, and the most comfortable part was the downstairs area E inhabited.

We tucked into a huge bottle of wine from the endless supply in the fridge, and hopped along to check out the beach by the backyard. We walked along, sipping from our classy Spongebob Squarepants novelty mugs and talking with the one random English guy about my age, fishing all day for snapper etc. What a trooper.

Then something really odd and disgusting happened. We were sitting by the rocks, just talking, not being provocative or suggestive, fully clothed... when this man appears by the exit to the street, and takes off - wait, not just his shorts but - urgh - really? - no way - that couldn't be what we think hanging down (and I mean hanging, if it was what we thought it was, this guy was STACKED downstairs).

Then we saw him sit down on the sand and put his hand between his legs, and that was it. We were more than suspicious by this stage. So we decided to get up and walk to the same exit, and judging by his reaction, we realised we were on the mark with our theory. He was out of there and speeding off in his car by the time we reached the street. Dirty fucker. I wish now I'd run over to him or at least caught him on the camera I had in my hand. I forget these people are cowards, not predators; freaks, not murderers.

We hung around, cooked the boy dinner before he went back to his friend's for the night, had some more wine and then ended up at the bars by the airport beach, Maho. We'd planned to go to the French side but then couldn't be bothered, so we stopped in at the small bar I know the manager at for a drink and bad cover songs, then ended up in Sunset Bar.

Met a random American guy visiting his ailing grandmother so basically alone on the island, and ended up getting a lift back to mine when I'd finished my drink. I had to curtail it or I'd have been up all night, and I just can't deal with hangovers with this job. E brought another bottle of white along for the ride, and most probably went back to the bar with the guy.

I, on the other hand, came back to "The Kneader" kneading attention from me, my neighbour's cat that is extremely cute and always needs something to knead into. I entertained myself with her while my pasta cooked (needed something to soak up the grog!) and ate chocolate. What was that I said about a good diet in 2012?? I'm so shit.