Nightclubbing St Maarten style

This Saturday night was my first real attempt at going nightclubbing in St Maarten, and it was an interesting experience, so I thought it deserving of a blog all of its own.

Firstly, my companions - J, from work, and his brother Ju, and a random girl we picked up in their hotel room who looked like Estelle, A. J and I got a lift to the hotel room with a car they'd lent from their aunty or something, and I expressly told them there would be no drunk driving around me tonight. I honed my eyes to count their beers.

We waited seemingly FOREVER at the hotel room, passing time by looking at the lovely view at Pelican bay and the pimpin' hotel swimming pool, and watching Will Smith looking weirdly old in Seven Pounds (was sooo lost coming in halfway through that film). This did nothing for my tiredness. What were we waiting for?? Ju to get ready! Geez, you'd think he had a vagina or something.

When at last we made it out the door, Ju looking only slightly better than the hour before and his brother in matching cap, t-shirt and shoes (too funny), we headed to Tantra, the biggest club on the island. Got Maccas on the way, which took forever since there was a blackout mid-order. And they're generally just slow here. Snagged the last park in the carpark because our car was the only non-SUV roaming spaces and the exceedingly bad drivers here also can't park properly.

At one point I remarked to the guys that the black people on this island were so stereotypically black. Not sure if that was racist but I stand by it. I suppose most white people are stereotypically white. But that's why stereotypes exist, I guess. It's just that everyone here likes big cars, loud (R&B, hip-hop and reggae) music, guys in clothes 10x too big and girls in clothes 10x too small, and a big, ol' booty.

At Tantra J was refused entry because he was in trackpants (fair enuf in my opinion, but apparently only cos it was an "adults" night - think we dodged a bullet there!). So we went next to the impeccably named Soggy Dollar and walked in to a snow storm - literally everything was white! And so it was we crashed the "White Temptation" Heineken sponsored party. Lucky I wore my purple dress. Blended right in there.

As I stood by the bar waiting for the guys to get our drinks (hey, they insisted!), I surveyed the room... mostly white people, I would guess Dutch at their height and blonde prevalence, dressed in a range of white attire from slutty, high school lycra things to flowing maxi dresses. But most of it was tacky. My favourite was the "lady" in the white mesh dress with just bra and panties to hide her dignity. The man with the gropey arms on the dancefloor was so proud of his catch.

There were some promo girls (a far cry from Sydney standards) taking photos of people in white for Heineken - obviously we were ignored due to our coloured wardrobe - and some odd characters appearing now n then, including a guy who looked to me more like a cartoon character than actual human being.

It was around this time I realised this was the first time I'd been clubbing as a taken woman, without my boy with me. So this is what it is like to view it from the outside... The Mating Game. A flick of the hair, a flash of a smile, a cheeky giggle... I saw it all. Men with antlers practically bristling from their craniums, stomping the ground and circling their prey. The woman looking casually over his shoulder for the next, better stag.

I had a dance with J, while his bro pulled the moves on A. Good on him, they're not the tallest of families so I can imagine he finds it difficult to pick up. And she was lovely, so it was all good in my eyes! When we'd sweated sufficiently in the open night air (the club is on the water's edge), we sat down for a breather - no sooner had we noticed our Dutch intern T dancing away with the other Dutch interns that congregate at such nightspots on the island. Met some of his friends who said I had to come out and enjoy myself more with them, feeling sorry that I was bound to my room in fear of being constantly targeted.

The fatigue that unsettled me earlier was shaken after a few beers and I was starting to enjoy myself. Thoughts of my boy a little harder to shake (not that I wanted to, really!)... at one point I even daydreamed into thinking the empty couch next to me was his seat and he'd be returning from the toilet at any moment. That made me a little sad when I woke up to myself. Is it going to be like this the whole time I live here?

We decided to go when it was clear Ju was gonna pick up, and with J in the driver's seat (I said I would drive over Ju, who'd had a few more beers than I'd have liked, but then reconsidered when I realised I probably wasn't right to drive either!) we dropped the couple to the hotel room for some private time and J took me home. We chatted to kill time then I called it a night and he had to amuse himself for another hour or so before the hotel room was free again. Takes me right back to high school, that does.

Best spread I seen in years

The day is not over yet, in fact for many I am sure it has just began, but I have already managed to stuff my face at the hotel`s buffet breakfast. Seriously, that was the best mother fucking breakfast spread I ever SEEN in a hotel!! And the fresh fruit... oh, how I missed the fresh fruit after months dealing with shitty European fruit. Being from Australia really does make me a fruit snob. So I stuffed my face in preparation for not eating for the whole day and saving money.

I rolled out of the breakfast room to meet F, my new CS friend who kindly offered to put me up for 10 DAYS during the Carnival period, and we walked around the local area. The weather is balmy, overcast but about 26 degrees so a pleasant change to the multi-jumper weather of Europe.

We had some beers then went back to F`s pad - not far from my hotel and guess what, he has a DOG!!! Cutest little Cocker Spaniel named Oled. He´s sitting under my desk atm and I only just remembered as a furry head popped up on my lap for some attention a second ago. Fully plan to walk him regularly. If only I didn´t look like an escaped Albino I would totes fit in. Already had some people tell me my hair is awesome. Thy rastas will be my greatest ally here!!!

F is really nice, keen to show me around and hang out so I am not a loner - but something tells me I will have no problem making friends here - and has already given me a key even though I won´t be staying until tomorrow. I think I´ll give Oled a walk today as I peruse the local beauty salons. Nothin like a dog to pick people up haha...

I think we´ll go salsa dancing tonight, me not being schooled at all in the arts of salsa and F apparently being quite good, so it should be interesting. Oh, also this morning I checked myself out in a full-length mirror (first time since forever as they didn´t have one in Austria) and I HAVE lost weight, gotten more toned as well. So I may actually potentially not look like a beached whale in my bikini, tutu and hosentrager outfit I have planned for the carnival parties. F laughed when I told him about it and said he´d need to be my bodyguard for the evening if I ended up going through it it. Going through with it?? No debate.

Alright. Time to take the dog for a walk (if I can find his lead), check out the beautician, go back to my hotel sans dog and go sit up on the roof on a banana chair by the pool. Ahh, it´s a hard life but someone´s gotta do it, right?

A Brazilian... in Brazil???

Sitting in a central Rio apartment with the window open, a nice warm breeze blowing in while salsa softly plays in the background... Yep, I`m in Brazil...

After having to get up before the asscrack of dawn in Vienna yesterday to get a plane to Heathrow then getting another 12-hour plane to Rio, I was BUGGERED by the time I reached my hotel. And kinda drunk and disorientated. But more on that later.

I had little trouble with the early morning airport mission in Vienna, R gave me great instructions over a bottle of wine the night before (such a lovely girl!) and being so central in the city, it took hardly any time to get to the airport (and it was so cheap!!). Except for getting momentarily lost looking for the second train station. Mental note: drunks give shit directions.

The plane ride to Rio was entertaining... can´t remember part of it because I got a little drunk - well I think I can´t remember it because suddenly the plane began to descend - but made lots of friends from Holland, Germany, Italy and England. Some tried to get me to have a drink at Rio airport but waved them off, promising to meet on Copacabana beach later on as my little Brazilian driver carried my bags away. Yep, that is indeed how I roll.

The airport transfer was a godsend. I would not have navigated the 40-odd minute journey into town very well in my state. Tried to speak Spanish a little bit with the driver, he understood a little a bit and returned in Portuguese... I also understand a little. Meh, better than nothing. At least I managed to ask him to crank some tunes on the way there to sing along to. Hey presto, Snoop Dogg, BOB et al...

Had to nip out to the local late-night food joint to get a burger of some description as I was FAMISHED. Came back to eat it at the hotel and it was a kaleidescope of meats... I guess that`s what you get when you point and shoot at the shop counter. Had to buy water as well, after staying in Austria for so long kinda got used to drinking the tap water. Tried it here. Mistake. Heavily chlorinated.

Confirmed to meet my new CS friend F the next morning (after breakfast of course) and rolled into bed about midnight, which equals to a few hours later Austrian time. Buggered. But also excited about the next couple of weeks. Still a bit scared about my money sitch, but I think I´ll manage to charm some poor sucker into giving me a job...

Rio is a bit grimey, as expected, but there is definitely a cool vibe here, and certainly plenty of skin to look at. The girls have brilliantly Brazilian asses, and tight clothes to show them off (I think I will fit in just fine here) and there have been more than a handful of hot guys to stroll past and pretend not to be staring out. But I saw them lookin at me... yeah that´s right.

My hotel - super sweet score from my travel agent fuck-up - is nicer than I thought it would be, the staff speak perfect English and there are lots of tourists wandering around I am sure to make friends with at some stage lounging out on the rooftop pool. Speaking of, I must jet to the beautician to sort myself out. So, in Brazil, is it really called a "Brazilian"???