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.