The Voyage of Spectacle

We had a blessedly uneventful 18-hour overnight trip from Jost van Dyke to St. Martin.  Having been here for less than a day, we have a sneaking suspicion that we are going to absolutely love this place.  We got off to a very auspicious start – a delicious light lunch with a bottle of better-than-decent Chablis, followed by a nap, followed by a fantastic dinner at Le Cottage in nearby Grand Case.  This was EASILY the finest meal we have eaten since our departure.  I intend to write it up for the Dining Guide soon. We gave it 6 Anchors, a score we do not award lightly.  If they moved the restaurant to Turks & Caicos, they could charge whatever they wanted and be packed every night.  As it stands, they are doing quite a brisk business.

It is nice to be in a place where the streets are clean; the cars are new, small and functional; the weather is agreeable; the beaches are gorgeous; the bread is fresh; the cheese is unpasteurized; the wine is inexpensive and of generally moderate or better quality; and the people are a seemingly happy mix of the best parts of French, Dutch and Caribbean who really seem to want to be here.  This, mind you, is the French side.  I’m not so sure how we’ll feel about the Dutch side.  I’m told there is quite a difference.

This marina – Marina Fort Louis – is outstanding.  Melissa is already deeply in love with the kid that helped us med-moor the boat today.  His name is Ian.  By the way, he’s 19.

Yeah, we’re going to like it here just fine.

Our initial suspicions have been confirmed — the food here is generally excellent.  I cannot say enough good things about the quality of the eating here – our high expectations have been easily surpassed.  This will be reflected in the Dining Guide entries.

On the north end of the Eastern Caribbean chain, the island of Saint Martin overlooks British (and super ritzy) Anguilla with another popular French West Indies enclave, St. Barts (also super ritzy), about 13 miles to the southeast.  With both Dutch and French sides, Saint Martin is the smallest island in the world shared by two different countries (about 38 total square miles).  After multiple skirmishes involving the Spanish and British and area indigenous peoples, the island’s border between Dutch and French has remained pretty much consistent since the agreement in 1648.  That border is totally open marked by a small obelisk and a Bienvenue / Welkom sign.

As big fans of French culture and cuisine, we planned to make landfall on the French side.  Marigot, the main town on the French side, is hustling and bustling … not much late nightlife but plenty of restaurants and shops especially given the nearby ferry dock. 

Built in 1767, Fort Louis was named after the famous and ill-fated French king, Louis XVI, and was established to protect Marigot from foreign invaders, particularly the British.  At the end of Rue de la Republique and in the shadow of Fort Louis, the Fort Louis Marina is definitely a landmark in Marigot and a great central point for island travel.  We quickly adopted a local café, the Deli Spoon, befriending the jack of all trades wait person, Carole, and taking advantage of its great food and coffee, high speed internet connection, and friendly regular clientele. 

The main drag in Grand Case (about 5 miles northeast of Marigot) hosts the French side’s cuisine trophies, and we spent many a long, wine-swilling, cheese-tasting, multi-course-enjoying evening there.  We visited the infamous Orient Beach with its beautiful views and white sand beach like talcum powder, oh and, naked sun worshippers everywhere.  And of course, we hit the infamous Sunset Beach Bar in all its glory, complete with 747s skimming the roof of the bar on their final descent, best bikini body contests, and shots.  We were mightily impressed.

We ventured to the Dutch side of the island several times … the Sunset Beach Bar, an expensive trip to Budget Marine (now renamed “Break-Your-Budget” Marine), and Kim Sha beach for the marquee event closing the Heineken Regatta.  Against our better judgment, we also made a trip to Philipsburg.

Most of the travel guides describe Saint Martin as a crassly over-developed island ruthlessly pursuing the tourist dollar.  Throughout our stay, we found this synopsis to be totally silly as we experienced nothing but happy-go-lucky, as well as happy-to-help, locals.  No hustling, no pan-handling, no aggressive sales tactics, no thinly-veiled street scams, no “special” pricing, no shamelessly tacky crap stores, nothing.  Frankly, French Saint Martin has been our stand-out favorite Caribbean island thus far.

Sadly, Philipsburg is a whole different ball of wax.  With terrible traffic and little parking, the entire town is quite commercial and charm-free except for the areas easily walked by cruise ship tourists in a 3-to-4-hour shore excursion.  The beach boardwalk is somewhat picturesque with a nice anchorage, millions of beach chairs, and generic bars and restaurants.  The huge shopping street is jampacked with cruise ship patrons walking in circles and methodically muttering the words “duty free” under their breath.  The retail competition, especially among jewelry  stores, is ferocious and palpably desperate.  We bought some consumer goods, mistakenly ate at a French restaurant (on the Dutch side? Hello!), and high-tailed it back to France in soul-crushing traffic.

In lieu of a specific event, a mandatory trip to the island’s best chandlery, a flight, or a jaunt to the Sunset Beach Bar, there’s little reason to cross the border.  The picture to the right sums up our thoughts on Philipsburg.   

 

After Mont Pele destroyed the thriving and fabulous St. Pierre, Fort de France emerged as more than just a backwater town with the title of official administrative capital.  Fort de France is strategically located (as are all pretty much all the capital cities of the Caribbean) on the island’s leeward side with a naturally protected harbor and the ominous and historically busy Fort St. Louis, established in 1639.

After parking the car, we opted against visiting Fort St. Louis as the walk to get there reminded us both of Frogger.  Across from the Fort, the Savane is Fort de France’s central park, and unfortunately, the whole area was cordoned off with chained-link fence during our tour day.  This park houses the statue of Josephine, who, as I mentioned previously, is Martinique’s famous, but not-so-favorite, daughter.  Under normal circumstances, the statue would face her beloved home of Trois-Ilets, located across the Fort de France bay to the south.  However, in 1992, the statue of Josephine was beheaded, her trunk splashed in red paint, and the accompanying signage either covered in angry Creole graffiti or all-out destroyed, in an obvious political statement.  Josephine’s head has never been recovered and, more relevant to one’s understanding of Fort de France’s vibe, the monument has never been repaired nor removed.  There she stands, Empress Josephine, wife of Napoleon Bonaparte the Great, cousin of Aimee Dubuc de Rivery (also known as Sultana Valide and adoptive mother of Emperor Mahmoud II), headless and symbolically bleeding and desecrated for more than a decade, and nobody seems to care.  More Pictures

Near the Savane lies the Schoelcher library, which was built in Paris in 1889 for the World’s Fair.   After the exhibition, the entire building, a baroque assortment of iron arches and fretwork, was dismantled, sent to Martinique, and reassembled to house Victor Schoelcher’s personal book collection.  The old part of this working library is quite beautiful with its floor-to-ceiling stacks of antique books, stained glass domed ceiling, and exhibits of local artists.  More Pictures

We then headed to the Palais de Justice, which is the Palais de Ugly, and Hotel de Ville, which is mildly interesting.  Rounding a corner to find the beginning of the famous, and supposedly haute couture, Rue Victor Hugo, we also stumbled onto a nice square with a nice statue of Schoelcher … and a port-a-potty.

The guidebook says:

Fort de France, the capital of Martinique, is the largest and liveliest city in the Windwards.  It is a great place for people-watching, and shops and restaurants abound.  The central Rue de la Republique has been turned into a delightful pedestrian street.

How much time do I get for rebuttal?

Andy and I stood in Martinique’s “center of the universe,” the intersection of Rue de la Republique and Rue Victor Hugo (just the names of the streets alone insinuate their importance), blinking and confused.  No bars anywhere.  No street musicians.  No sidewalk cafes.  No pushcarts selling baguettes and espresso shots.  Indeed no restaurants of any kind, except one … KFC.  Of the very few open shops at 3:30 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon, not one interested us.

  What the intersection does have is loiterers … locals, by the hundreds, doing nothing … many staring in an unfriendly way.

    As such, we got in the car and left … even though we knew it meant another crappy meal at Mango’s, the marina restaurant.  Not only was there nothing to do, Fort de France felt threatening, and I didn’t want to see it at night.  More Pictures

One of the Windward Islands of the Lesser Antilles, St. Lucia is located midway down the Eastern Caribbean chain north of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, northwest of Barbados, and south of Martinique.  The island is 27 miles long and 14 miles wide and is generally shaped like an avocado.  Saint Lucia is named after Saint Lucy of Syracuse, patron saint of the blind, and one of only seven women commemorated by name in the Roman Canon of the Mass.

Volcanic in origin, St. Lucia is more mountainous than most other Caribbean islands.  The island’s highest point stands 3000 feet above sea level at Mount Gimie; however, St. Lucia’s number one claim to fame is definitely the Pitons, which are two volcanic plugs standing majestically on the southwestern coast overlooking the spectacular Soufriere Bay.  Also a World Heritage Site, the Pitons make every list of things to see before you die from Conde Nast to Oprah Winfrey.  Emerging from lush tropical rainforest complete with huge ferns and banana orchards on one side, and incredible sparkling blue ocean on the other, the Gros Piton soars to 2619 feet and is slightly south of the 2461-foot-tall Petit Piton.  It’s difficult to adequately communicate the beauty of this area.

Like most Caribbean islands, St. Lucia’s colorful character is largely derived from the struggles between ancient indigenous populations, the slave trade, and conquering European forces.  Settled by Arawak Indians, a culture later eclipsed by the Caribs, St. Lucia was called “Hewanorra,” meaning “Island of the Iguanas,” since 800 A.D.  Erroneously thought discovered by Columbus in 1502, St. Lucia was more likely discovered by lesser known explorer and former Columbus navigator, Juan de la Cosa, in either 1499 or 1504.  The island’s first official European presence was established by Peg-Leg le Clerc‘s enclave on Pigeon Island used to pillage treasure-laden Spanish galleons.

The first legitimate European settlement was founded by the Dutch around 1600 at Vieux Fort.  In 1605, an English ship bound for Guyana (ironically called the Olive Branch) blew off course and went aground off the coast of St. Lucia.  The sixty-seven passengers safely waded to shore and found coexistence with the Caribs to be impossible.  In less than five weeks, only 19 of the original party remained due to violence, disease, and exposure.  Another English colony was also wiped out by the Caribs in 1639.

During the 1700′s, St. Lucia played an interesting role in the political and economic processes of the eastern Caribbean.  With the French headquartered on Martinique and the British headquartered on Barbados, the centrally located St. Lucia looked quite attractive to both parties, and both frequently worked to exert influence on its future, particularly the extremely lucrative sugar cane industry established in 1765.  After many violent battles, the British won out.  France permanently ceded control in 1815, and slavery was abolished in 1834.  St. Lucia was incorporated to the central government of the British West Indies, eventually achieving full independence in 1979 following a Constitution in 1924 and universal suffrage in 1951.

St. Lucia’s population is overwhelmingly of African descent due to the huge slave trade; however, the French influence is palpable right down to the Creole language.  The capital city, Castries, was founded by the French in 1650.  Originally called Carenage (or Safe Anchorage), the city was renamed Castries in 1756 after the commander of a French expeditionary force to Corsica.

Local chefs frequently combine fish dishes with the island’s abundant tropical fruits including mangoes, papayas, pineapples, soursops, passionfruit, guavas, and coconuts.  Another typical dish is callaloo soup made from a leafy green vegetable similar to spinach which, if not cooked appropriately, can be poisonous.  Beyond cuisine, St. Lucia’s cultural influence includes two Nobel Prize Winners:  Sir W. Arthur Lewis (Economics in 1979), and poet Derek Walcott (Literature in 1992).