SXM 9/27/2010
So over break one of my friends contacted me about a possible trip to St. Maarten for a shark awareness dive during the long weekend of the St. Kitts Independence Day. Although originally nervous about the sharks and the big trip, I finally agreed to go and set about arranging flights, hotels, car rental, packing, etc. I planned to use my dive money on this trip alone and simply study and conserve funds for the rest of the semester. Diving with black-tipped reef sharks is a once-in-a-lifetime experience right?
Friday 11am: Get out of class and high-tail it to airport. I approach the ticket counter with passport and boarding pass in hand, towing scuba gear . I see Dr. Krecek who was our Parasitology professor, exclaiming how incredibly excited I am about the trip. I also can’t contain the usual excitement provoked by the SKB airport since every time I’m there, I’m going home to the states. She eyes me and exclaims that I must not have heard the bad news. What bad news? It appears due to weather conditions the shark dive has been canceled; however we may dive anyway but at alternative sites. Then she shoves her cell phone at me so I can hear from our divemaster, as the Liat agent yells at me saying that there are no cell phones allowed. I am numb as I pass off my documents and proceed to check in. Of course my friends haven’t heard this; I immediately text them to spread the word. I’m still packed and going ; at this point it’s too late. But the weekend unfolds.
In the airport terminal I let out a sigh of disappointment, but we’ll still have fun exploring St. Maarten right? Chris arrives and deposits a beer in my hand, which at the moment is furiously scribbling pathology notes from the morning’s lecture. So much for studying… Our divemaster appears as well as the remainders or our group and we are still in high spirits. We arrive in SXM to beautiful clear skies, and hope that perhaps we can dive or at least swim for the three day weekend. The professors are deposited at their hotel and we drop bags at ours. Of course the first thing Chris wants to do is hit McDonald’s: pretty much the last place on earth you will ever find me. But unlike me, he didn’t get to return stateside so I’m sympathetic. We then walk to the dive shop to scope out the situation.
This is where the trip promptly plummets. The girl in the dive shop is stoned; I inquire about our dive. The answer is that there are no dives, no matter what for the remainder of the weekend. In fact, there was no intention of going diving in the case of a storm (which is headed north and not likely to skim the island at this point) Can’t we just come back next week? Then she describes how they’re just waiting for one more hour to close the shop and hit the bar. Great. So much for me trying to sweet talk her into taking us out later in the weekend. It’s overcast at this point, and the seas are rough, but we all know by now that it can change in a matter of hours.
We end up back at the hotel, where Chris plops himself in front of the TV and I curl up with a book. We meet up with the profs and divemaster who invite us to dinner on the French side of the island. Leaving with 30-40 minutes to spare, we walk along dead-stop rush hour traffic (which doesn’t exist on SKB) and try to hail a taxi. We end up on a bus who claims to be taking us to Marigot. It quickly becomes apparent that he is taking us in the wrong direction. One guy in the back of the bus, which is overly packed and juicy with sweat, directs us on how to change buses and head back the correct way. We jump off, flag another bus, board and head back the other way. By the way, we learn that today is Election Day; there are massive road blocks and street parties as the voting polls continue through the night. We are now 20 minutes late to our dinner in stationary traffic. This wouldn’t be an issue, but this particular professor we are joining is one who locks students out of her classroom and/or publicly humiliates them if they are late. Now we are late to her dinner! I’m losing it as we are hungry, tired, sweaty, and seemingly lost. We are also being told repeatedly about the high crime levels and how it is not safe for us to be walking around the streets. I of course forgot a purse so I’m holding my wallet in hand, feeling more vulnerable by the minute. We’ve now been dumped by the bus, the drive of which doesn’t speak English and neither him nor his passengers have ever heard of this restaurant. We walk where they point and after he passes us multiple times, we end up asking for directions from a store in a mall we find, covered in marble floors and dripping with crystal chandeliers. One of the Lacoste employees (100US for a polo shirt) offers to walk us to the restaurant, which is tucked behind an impossibly winding long path throughout shady alleys and locals eyeing me sideways.
Somehow we magically emerge into the marina where La Tropicana is settled in an array of lights. After apologizing profusely and sitting to order, we enjoy a delicious multi course French meal of fresh bread, salad, duck breast, crème brulee, wine, and house made “rhum.” I was temped to chug this delicious banana flavored “poison,” but of course had only one glass to top off dinner. A marvelous taxi arrives after a miscommunication about the number of passengers and we end up back at our hotel where another friend arrives with rental car in tow. We all crash after what? Another f-ing trip to McDonald’s! I’m ready to vomit at the fast food obsession, especially after the spectacular meal we just had. After their faces are satisfactorily stuffed we finally pass out, with three full days ahead of us.
Meanwhile, back on St. Kitts, 30 of our friends have scheduled a catamaran trip to St. Maarten for the 3 day weekend. Thus all is not lost! Soon a mass of Rossies will hit SXM and promptly tear it up. As a massive group we will hit the beach, eat out, and hit the clubs around the island. On Saturday we jump in the car for a drive around the island to get our bearings after eating Mexican style breakfast. Of course the boys main goals are the auto parts store, video game store, and shopping malls. We head back to the French side to explore the open air market which not surprisingly houses the same garb at St. Kitts, just saying SXM instead. We drive around the island in about an hour as it intermittently pours rain. After the French Marigot we hit Dutch Philipsburg for more “shopping.” On suggestion from the dive shop, I hunt for Get Wet Bar where we grab lunch. At this point we receive a text: Cat trip canceled. Ouch. Now I’m stuck with 2 dive guys and have been abandoned by the divemaster and professors. Two days left. Eventually we head back to the inn and regroup for dinner at SkipJack’s; an excellent seafood restaurant right on the marina in Simpson Bay. I had crab cakes , deviled crab, and key lime pie. Also because of the heavy European influence, almost every little bakery and eatery is fully equipped with an espresso machine! This is something you will never find in St. Kitts so I revel in espresso all weekend.
Day 2.6: Sunday we grab breakfast at a French bakery, and attempt to snorkel, loading the car with tons of gear and heading around the island again. Beach after beach, we unload, scope out, see 10 foot swells, and surrender back to the car. We hang out for a Leffe and a couple of hours on Friar’s Bay beach where we watch a French couple play with their bull terrier, a string of ponies cross by, an a handful of older people going “nude” under cover of the sea. We end up finally hungry and worn out at Orient Bay, the most popular and most widely-known for sporting its nudist colonies. Of course the boys are excited about topless Europeans despite my warnings that we will likely only see gorillas with hairy balls. Nevertheless, we grab lunch and right as we head out to hit the beach, an unrelenting storm approaches. Go figure. We give up and I suggest a movie as the island proceeds to flood. We pass the theater to scope out times, pick out Going the Distance at 5:11pm and head back to shower. Without fail, we arrive to find that our movie is not playing until 9pm and the only films playing at this time: Expendables, Cats n Dogs 2, Vampires Suck. We flip a coin and hit Expendables; one of the worst movies of all time. Defeated and sopping wet from the rain, we traipse around in search of food, landing at the Soprano’s pizzeria for a drink, antipasto, and pizza. I surrender to my book as the guys roll around ideas: strip club, nightclub, bar, another movie. Eventually they pass out in front of the TV.
As if to slap us in the face, Monday morning the sea is crystal clear, calm, perfect for diving. We hit the French bakery again: Café Atlantico. We head directly to Orient Bay (Baie Orientale) to soak up a few hours of sun. Since it’s the off season (and hurricane season) the beaches and most of the island is deserted. Despite my advice, the boys use SPF15 and promptly turn bright red, thus miserable for the remainder of the day. Our flight is at 9pm; my idea of course, since we planned to have one day diving then two for beach days/exploring. Mid afternoon we return to shower, pack, check out, and of course: another McDonald’s trip?!?!? We even had to stop at a supermarket to acquire Tupperware containers in order to pack McDonald’s to take back to the girlfriend back in SKB. (gross!) I’ve been begging to hit Sunset Bar all weekend, and luckily we have at least an hour to kill prior to checking in for our flight. Sunset is right at the end of the runway with a beautiful beach view and of course the runway. The thing to do is run up to the roadside gate, grip on for dear life, and get jet blasted as the planes take off! Salvation for St. Maarten! The boys are eyeing the massive DANGER signs and my excitement cautiously. We didn’t get to dive with sharks so we are for damn sure going to get jet-blasted! I don my rain jacket and sunglasses after advice that sand will be whipped around and the jet fuel is incredibly hot. Whatever you do, they say, do not let go. So I drag the boys for our virgin round: a landing, then a takeoff on the opposite side of the plane (no jet blasts yet) Then a large plane rounds the corner and we get blasted!!!! Heck yeah! If you ever go, this is an absolute must. We dump the rental car, get overcharged (of course) and our barefooted driver throws us into the airport.
I’ve never been so excited to get back to St. Kitts. Ever. I wanted the boys off of my back, and to forget this weekend ever happened. My roommate picks us up at the airport. I make it off the plane in the front of the line, tear through customs in record time. Then Chris and I are waiting, waiting, waiting for baggage that of course, never arrives. I’m not surprised. Except imagine old quarter pounders and chicken nuggets shoved in his diver gear. Yeah. Makes my wet bathing suits look like a minor challenge.
So hundreds of dollars, three days, and soggy McD’s at the bottom of lost luggage later, I finally return to my own bed exhausted and defeated as ever.
Whew!
Bye for now.
~ lkc
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