This may have been my 9th visit to St Martin. Yes, obviously I love it. There's a little bit of everything here, I can get a cute french haircut, buy rognons de veaux, consume a whole french baguette with porc rillette for lunch, bask in the sun and dance the night away, or, read a book all day long and not move from my chaise longue. St Martin/ St Maarten is half French, half Dutch, the smallest island in the world to have been partitioned into two by two countries. The French side is my own little bit of private R & R and I've only been to the Dutch side once; just long enough to know I never want to go back .
The French side is predominantly casual elegance with an emphasis on comfort and relaxation. The Dutch side is a loaded magnet of commercialism designed to separate the cruising crowd from their hard earned money.
The sandy path to the ocean from our little cottage set among palms trees gently blown by the trade winds. The cottage is tiny but the small kitchen, the living room, a bedroom, private bathroom and patio are all I need.
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| Always a warm heart and a tasty morsel wherever you stop |
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and of course a temptation for those day trippers off the big boats. Those cruiser who think they understand Orient Beach after a topless stroll haven't begun to scratch past the surface of this relaxed and colorful place .
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Vendors and hawkers, artists and artisans, gawkers and revellers, opportunists and humorists, fashionisters and hipsters, everyone is here, everyone waits their turn for the fun, waits for the order of a bucket of ten beers, waits for the bogie boarding boys and the shell collecting girls. It's people watching with a difference, it's learning about life, watching, waiting, understanding, relaxing and moving on while recharging the batteries.
And it's waiting in anticipation for the arrival of the big boats - that time when locals, as I like to call myself, get up and leave, that time when I'm ready for the next French haircut, time to search the french shops for the next exotic d'aubade.
...and then to ponder who was it that brought the signs from my hometown to the beaches of St Martin, even the sign of my old local hospital, Hackensack Medical Center.
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| and all the while true 'island life' struggles to continue. |
The sandy path to the ocean from our little cottage set among palms trees gently blown by the trade winds. The cottage is tiny but the small kitchen, the living room, a bedroom, private bathroom and patio are all I need. 
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The atrium 
A new carpet
Flower delivery to the suites 
A suite's bathroom with a view 
The spa
New lighting 
A vertical garden 
