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25
in St. Maarten
From GypsyNester.com
There is a magic
about St Maarten. It’s the smallest island in the world shared by
two sovereign states, with numerous other little islands so close
that you can see the everyday life on them. It is an inspiring place
for a GyspyNester. It makes you literally itch with the exploration
bug.
But this trip had a different theme. 25 hours for our 25 years of
marriage. We checked into our hotel on the Dutch side, a huge complex
of high-rise rooms, swimming pools, eateries and a few too many
love-handled speedo guys. Not exactly our cup of tea, but very posh
and a befitting change of pace for our celebration. We usually travel
lower to the ground. After sundown, we hailed a cab and headed
out for Grand Case on the French side—with our driver Matt at the
helm.
Matt is the man—a veritable treasure trove of local information.
He answered all of our queries with humor and honesty. We found
out gas is cheaper on the French side, but is too “light” (low octane)
for his taxi. We were also heartened to learn that we could ship
one of our daughters to the French side, doll her up and have her
find a nice man. Once they are married, she can hen-peck him until
they move themselves and our beautiful grandchildren to Paris and
buy a villa with a guest room for us. Find Matt when you visit,
he knows stuff.
The border between the two sides of the island is in a fairly remote
area—the best way to tell that you've crossed over is that the road
goes from a pothole laden mess on the Dutch side to icy smooth on
the French side. Matt is a true artist, a chuckhole dodging Botticelli,
a master.
| With
our back-roads tour of the island behind us, (Matt knows the
short cuts) we arrived at Grand Case. A goal of ours is to
moor a boat on the shore of this wonderful little area and
gain 20 pounds. There are so many wonderful restaurants packed
into the quaint narrow streets it is a Herculean effort to
choose just one. But, alas, we had just the one evening. |
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We decided on
L'Auberge Gourmande, a lovely gem among a glittering tiara of deliciousness.
Highlights were a epic scallop swimming in an asparagus soup, monk
fish with wasabi mashed potatoes, and an amazing array of chocolate
for desserts—white mousse and hot baked fondant. If you looked up
hot baked fondant in the dictionary, it would read "Molten chocolate
cake with orgasmic properties." Each plate had those wonderful French
touches—a flower of caramelized shallots, dots and dashes of sauces
and spices, and pools of butter, butter, butter. A bottle of Pinot
Gris, "Les Maquisards" Domaines du Château de Riquewihr, created
a nice counterpoint to the nose-stinging wasabi.
After coffee, Matt was waiting for us, as advertised, and we headed
back to the Dutch side to wander the pleasantly garish Maho Bay
area of neon, casinos and entertainment galore.
The next morning we took a stroll (note that we didn't say romantic
stroll) along Tortuga Beach, had some amazing coffee and spent some
time dodging aircraft. Before we are judged too harshly, we are
fully aware how cheesy this touristy diversion is. The cheesiness
is totally overwhelmed by the sheer awesomeness of it. So there.
Tortuga beach is directly under the flight path of landing aircraft.
And it's a constant barrage. The beach is literally the last thing
a pilot sees before the beginning of the runway. Here's how it's
done: Lay on the warm, white Caribbean sand, position yourself under
a jumbo jet filled with Canadian tourists and get doused by an ocean
whipped up by jet wash. Try it sometime -- then dare to judge us.
Here's hoping that every one of our anniversaries will include a
rush like this. Next year, how about 26 hours of cliff diving in...
see also: Traveling
Low To The Ground
David & Veronica,
GypsyNester.com
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The
Gypsy Nesters
David &
Veronica
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