Sint Maarten

Sint Maarten or SXM, which it is confusingly referred to on maps etc, is an island a lot of celebrities pass through on their way to Saint Barts.  There are no famous people on the island, but probably some rich ones.

Amazingly, because of the beautiful climate, it is also a place where they have only, in the last 2 years, after centuries, returned to doing some farming and food growing, but this is on the French side.  Otherwise, they import all their food beyond what they grow in their gardens.

The people are lovely, so kind, with sing song voices, though they loved my English accent.  I felt as though I had had an age spurt as I was treated as vulnerable, as if I couldn’t walk anywhere.  That said, I was looking at a hotel room, did not notice a huge water leak from the bathroom and slipped on it doing the splits.  I could have hurt myself badly.  A porter came and found me afterwards, in the supermarket, to fill out an accident form for security.

The island is 37 miles square with narrow B type roads.  It was brimming with large 4×4 cars.  Why?  You could have comfortably travelled around in little soft top jeeps.  Parking looked like it was a nightmare.

The island is still recovering from the hurricane in 2017, but even more so from Covid, which decimated its High Streets.  Apparently, a lot of people left after the destruction/covid and never came back.  You see deserted, overgrown properties, tucked in between new builds and off the main roads a noticeable amount of container units made up into houses.

I made a mental note to visit the zoo (on google), but there hasn’t been one here for years.  There was an iguana man who had, entrepreneurially, set himself up on the side of the road where you could leave a donation to feed his bunch of iguanas hanging out in the bushes close by.

It wasn’t like Nassau, where you go over the hill from the coast and the resort complexes into somewhere that looks as if it is in Africa.  It felt a lot more egalitarian than that.

 

I found myself a beautiful pool and I swam.  The pool was deserted in the mornings other than for two brown pelicans.  Apparently, they don’t nest here, but these two flew by at regular intervals.  They also have cute birds that are very tame that look like British pigeons, except they are brown.  I believe they are Zenaida doves.

In addition, it was butterfly season, which was a unique experience for me.  Millions of mainly white fluttering butterflies everywhere.

I was always alone in the morning when I swam, but later in the day, there would be people standing at the edge of the pool – mainly Americans.  As I swam up and down, I listened to snippets of conversations which mainly centred on where they were travelling next, medical insurance and crime where they lived.

The pool was 3 feet deep.  I decided by the end of my holiday that this was because visitors mainly stood in the pool rather than swam.  I never saw another tourist swimming in the pool while I was there.

 

There were security guards everywhere, but the resort was deserted as it was off season.  Did I like it?  Yes.  The resort was beautifully kept and the weather delightful.  Will I come again?  Probably not, but that’s just because it is a big world and I am getting old.

While I was there, I read ‘The case against the sexual revolution’ by Louise Perry that my son sent me.

At the airport on departure, I was asked by a researcher what I liked most about the island – the people.

What I liked least?  The ridiculous amount of cars and advertising billboards 3-4 deep on both sides of the road.