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Name: Tiffany
Country: United States
State: Texas
Birthday: 1/31/1975
Gender: Female
Interests: friends... family... art... pets, especially my own... architecture... furniture... and swing dancing
Expertise: design
Occupation: Advertising
Industry: Media
Message: message me
Member Since:
5/6/2004
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| We had to get a move on this morning, but we had been good and had packed most of our stuff the night before. We ate breakfast, checked out, loaded the car, and drove through Havensight to Charlotte Amalie, to the seaplane terminal. At the edge of the harbor, the terminal is in an old open-air stone building, with scrawny chickens wandering through.
We thought that was pretty hilarious, as did some other tourists from the mainland; the island residents seemed to hardly notice. A former resident who now lives in Florida told us that in the islands, chickens are kind of like squirrels are on the mainland. She never thought anything of them until she came back to visit.
I had never been on a seaplane before, and was really looking forward to this (so bear with the long description and multiple photos). They have to know your body weight and the weight of your luggage, so both passengers and bags can be situated evenly in the plane. Despite all of our efforts, our one bag that we'd packed so carefully and sparingly turned out to be a few pounds over the limit. But instead of making us pay the $25 fee, the staff member nicely marked the bag as okay...and added fifteen pounds to her notation of my personal weight.  I don't know why she couldn't have done that to David instead. I hadn't lied about my weight, but I guess the insult might have been worth the money. 
One of the other passengers, obviously from the islands, carried a bag or two and a couple of polished wooden crates up to the counter. The crates had holes in the sides, and I figured he was traveling with pets--dogs or cats. But passing by later, I saw that they were roosters for cockfighting--very different from the scrawny ones wandering by ten feet over.
We had to wait awhile for the plane. They have a fleet of three or four on this route, but they only run two back and forth at a time. So when ours got close to St. Thomas, they announced that we could move from the terminal to the gate, which turned out to be a space on a pier, marked with a wooden sign stuck in a plant pot. (You can see an old sugar plantation building being restored on the little island in the harbor, behind the sign.)
And here are the roosters being carted out with the checked luggage.
The passengers arriving in St. Thomas deplaned and their luggage was removed, and then we were called and we walked down the pier, handed our tickets over and climbed aboard.
Being on the floating seaplane felt like being in a boat; it bobbed in the water a little. It held fifteen passengers or so, and reminded me of the puddle-jumper we'd taken on our honeymoon from Barbados to Mustique. Just like in that one, there was no door between the cockpit and the cabin and no stewardess. One of the pilots half-turned in his seat and gave us the safety talk. 
Then they started the engines. I was seated behind the pilot on the right, and I had a pretty good view of the right propeller out my window. We taxied away from the pier and then gathered speed and we were off.
The engines were loud, but perhaps not louder than that plane from Barbados. We flew low for fifteen or twenty minutes and could see St. Croix from a ways off. It doesn't get nearly the amount of rain that St. Thomas and St. John do, and so in comparison it looks a little more barren and windswept--very similar to Texas.
We started descending into the harbor, and as I recall, we circled a little, probably so we could land with the wind. The landing felt different than landing on a runway, and it's kind of hard to describe. It wasn't smoother, and it wasn't rougher, but you could imagine the floats splashing down into the water a foot or two and then rising back to the surface.
And then we were floating, and it was back to feeling like being on a boat. We taxied up to the pier and disembarked.
The seaplane terminal on St. Croix is very different from the one on St. Thomas. The ticket counter is built in the side of a large and apparently somewhat new airplane hangar.
The rental car office is in a metal storage shed-type thing, and freestanding awnings are set up at its edge and also over the open-air snack bar. David rushed over there, figuring there were only so many cars available, but had to wait quite awhile to get anywhere. For some reason, the car we'd reserved hadn't been driven over from the main airport on the other side of the island, and it took awhile to determine that while we could wait for it if we wanted, there was indeed another one in the lot we could have instead.
As much time as the car was taking, I watched closely as the luggage was unloaded, to pick up our one suitcase as quickly as possible (we had things to do!), but I didn't see it. We had meant to watch to make sure it was loaded on at St. Thomas, but since we were the first two people to board, that didn't happen. I felt just a little paranoid about it, as it contained pretty much everything we'd brought. I asked at the counter, and the staff member phoned back to St. Thomas to check, and sure enough, they hadn't been able to fit it on our flight. They apologized for not informing us before we left--probably because we boarded first--but they said it would be in on the next flight in 45 minutes.
Well, as their entire flight schedule was running an hour late, we had some decisions to make. We had a diving reservation to make that afternoon, and we needed to eat lunch and check in at our bed and breakfast before that. We got the car (happening upon a chicken with her brood in the car lot)...
...and we drove what turned out to be only a couple of blocks into Christiansted, a charming little town that hasn't lost any of its early Dutch influence. We spent more time finding our bearings in the historic district and looking for a place to park than it would have taken to walk over, but anyway. We located a couple of recommended restaurants and picked Rum Runners on the pier. It turned out to be a good choice; the food was great and my drink even came with a little umbrella--my first. (Yes, up until then I had been a drink-umbrella virgin.)
Back at the terminal, we finally retrieved our suitcase and then went to check in at the bed and breakfast. Carrington's Inn is on a hill overlooking Christiansted, with beautiful views. The proprietors immigrated from Guyana several years ago and chose to live in the US territory closest to their old home.
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| Sunday we slept in, and enjoyed it. The breakfast reception was to run from 9:00-10:30, and we decided we had no problem walking in at 10:25. Of course most people were still there, and we enjoyed talking and visiting, a few more pictures, and the buffet.
While planning, I had left Sunday somewhat open, figuring that as it was our last day on St. Thomas, we would just try to see whatever we might not have had time for up to then. This worked out fairly well. We set out for Magen's Bay beach, taking scenic pictures along the way.
Magen's Bay is supposedly one of the top beaches in the world, and I could agree with that assessment. The water was swimming-pool clear and blue; you could be in up to your neck and still see your toes. Since the bay is horseshoe-shaped, there are hardly any waves, and again, it is just like being in a swimming pool (which didn't quite meet with David's favor). But especially for families with little kids, it was perfect; no worrying about your little ones getting swept out (or even getting swept anywhere at all).
It seemed that the whole resident population was present that day--their day off. There were big birthday parties and church picnics left and right under the trees, with barbecue smells wafting in the breeze and fun dance music coming from the church picnics. 
David and I enjoyed the water and the sun for several hours, and then went hunting for Sib's Mountain Bar and Restaurant, which we found quite a bit quicker today than Thursday. Just after we arrived, the heavens opened and a deluge began. The doors were open and it was nice to sit at the bar, eat our burgers, and listen to the rain...which conveniently stopped just about the time we were ready to leave.
Then we just went back to the beach outside the Marriott for awhile and chilled.
After getting cleaned up, we met Charles, Chaia, Jody and Christine for dinner at Craig and Sally's, one of the best restaurants on St. Thomas, highly recommended in all the guidebooks. It is in Frenchtown, which was home to French Huguenots (and to some extent is still home to their descendants), and is known for several excellent restaurants. (I had meant to get to the French Heritage Museum at some point, but it didn't happen.)
The food and wine were outstanding. I can't remember what everyone got, unfortunately, but I got a wonderful piece of eggplant cheesecake. Before you all quit reading, it was really good...not sweet, but very much like a creamy dip. I just had to try it, to see what it was like. I think it would have been much better served with some color, like perhaps a roasted red pepper coulis. But anyway, it was amazing and I'm thinking about serving it at a party someday. We were all passing around our food and wine and having such a great time talking. At one point we each discussed our favorite foreign city, and I remember being surprised that someone said Paris is overrated. I think it finally came down to expectations having been built too high. We were a well-traveled group, and it was fun to hear all about vacations and honeymoons and school trips, and plan for a future trip to Chicago to visit together again. Charles and Jody (and maybe the girls? I don't remember) are all about games, so David was all over that.
Chaia and Christine rode back to the hotel with us, since we had room, and Charles and Jody caught a taxi. The Huffs and Ottes had made the acquaintance of a lady taxi driver, who had been driving them around town for a couple of days by then, and who would arrive early and wait for them. The only problem was that she sometimes had to run personal errands as she passed the grocery store or whatever. So we got back to the hotel beach long before Charles and Jody did, and waited and talked and enjoyed the breeze and the stars. Then the guys arrived and brought cigars and we talked some more before calling it a night.
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| Months later, the saga finally picks up again...sorry for the hiatus. I don't even know what caused it, but anyway...
As I was planning this trip, I kept David appraised of our various options and asked what he'd like to do. The main thing he really wanted was to go sailing, and I figured that couldn't be that difficult to include. I was wrong. We didn't have time to just to go sailing on a chartered boat, and although I spent nearly a week trying to finagle it, there just wasn't any sailboat to Buck Island (our scheduled Tuesday afternoon destination, off of St. Croix).
But a few days before we left home, I ran across OnDeck Ocean Racing, located in Havensight, just a mile or so down from the Marriott. They take groups of tourists, split them into teams, teach them how to man a sailboat, and then have them race. I was thrilled and knew with the competition factor, this would be one of David's most favorite things ever. I booked two spots and told him not to look at the online credit card statement, that this was to be a surprise.
Friday I couldn't stand it anymore and broke down and told him. I figured that anticipation was part of the pleasure of a good thing, right? He was indeed excited and we both looked forward to it.
Saturday, we got up and moving, ate breakfast, and arrived at the appointed time with printed confirmation in hand. The office was at the back edge of a strip shopping center, next to a pier with boats of all kinds. We walked up to the door, only to find it closed and the space under renovation. That was kind of funny, but we found a second open door around the corner. There was no one at the front desk, only the two carpenters working. Somebody came out of a back room to help us, and I explained that we were there for the 10:00 race. He stared at me and said there was no race that day. Something about the look on his face made me ask, "You're kidding, right?"--I mean, I had their e-mailed confirmation in my hands--but unfortunately, he was not. The company had been trying to reach me for four days to say that we were the only two people booked and therefore they'd have to cancel. The guy was nice about it; he went to try to get hold of the owner, and couldn't; then he tried to contact some employees to at least take us sailing, but they, being on their day off, weren't answering.
I was horribly disappointed, more than David. I had planned this and looked forward to his enjoyment so much. After awhile I finally decided that my bad attitude and complaints weren't helping him enjoy the rest of the day and so I made a concentrated effort to shut up. But it stank.
So we had time on our hands. We could have gone snorkeling or explored some more of the island, but David decided he'd just like to visit the beach down from our hotel. So we drove back and on past both our hotel and the beach houses where Charles and Chaia were staying, and parked in the public lot. Between there and the beach, there is a small grassy yard with bowls of cat food set out off to the side, to draw iguanas (I guess just for the tourists). They eat and sun themselves on the grass and sidewalks, and don't at all mind posing for pictures.
The beach is very nice, not very deep, with chaise lounges and some shade, an open-air bar at one end, and strong waves (which of course don't show up in this picture).
I laid on a chaise, eventually went down to the bar for a drink, and enjoyed the quiet. David enjoyed the water, and declared this his favorite beach of the trip (even after Trunk Bay on Friday and Magen's Bay on Sunday), which was more than a little strange to me. A tourist-filled (okay, not that busy during the off season), hotel-chain managed, and probably somewhat man-made beach, over all the others? But the more I thought about it, this was the only beach with waves of any strength whatsoever, and David does like a beach with waves.
After awhile we drove back into Havensight to the Shipwreck Tavern for a late lunch. It is basically a sports bar, with American food; I think we split a burger and fries, which were pretty good. I remember feeling kind of icky, with the sunscreen/sand combo I had going and the nondescript shorts and t-shirt I had put on over my swimsuit for sailing that day. I don't remember the service being just outstanding, but I don't think anyone was very horribly put out by my attire.
Then we went on back to the hotel to get ready for the wedding, decided to leave our camera and most everything behind so we wouldn't have to keep up with them, and met in the lobby at 3:00. Everyone was in high spirits, and the various interpretations of "island dressy" attire were fun. Then the open-air island taxis started arriving and we loaded up, all laughing and joking around. Rob and his family and all of Liz's family were with us; Liz, Katy, the coordinator and the photographers had gone ahead to get ready. At the ferry terminal, Rob pulled a wad of pre-purchased ferry tickets from his pocket and handed them out, and as soon as the ferry arrived and emptied, we hopped on.
I was a little warm, as the lining of my dress wasn't that breathable, so when David and I realized the lower compartment we were passing was (somewhat) air-conditioned, we went in there and let everyone else jostle for the balcony. When it was full, those at the back of the line joined us and they too seemed happy at the idea of a/c. I don't know if it was the time of day or the fact that a plane had recently arrived on St. Thomas, but that was one full ferry. We dressed-up wedding guests shared benches with hippie types and wealthy vacationers keeping track of their plane luggage, and there was wonderful conversation everywhere, as everyone was very happy to be headed to St. John, for whatever reason.
When we arrived in Cruz Bay on St. John, we were let out at the passenger terminal and there were more open-air taxis waiting. We loaded up and were taken to Trunk Bay, visiting with Charles, Chaia, Joy, James, Alyssa, Tom and whoever else was sitting close, I forget.
It was kind of weird to go back to Trunk Bay under such different circumstances than Friday, to recognize the parking lot, the national park structures and everything, and be dressed up and fixed up instead of sticky, sandy and sweaty.
We were met by the wedding coordinator and led down a path to an open-air pavilion (just like you see at any park). There were bottles of water and oriental-style fans for favors, and a picture mat to sign. Then we were encouraged to ditch our shoes, if we wished, and led down another fifty feet or so to the south end of the beach. An older islander was playing beautiful music on a steel drum, an arch had been set up and decorated, and there were a few chairs, but we mostly just gathered and stood. The processional continued, with family members, Rob and his best man, and Katy and Liz, both in just beautiful dresses and vintage style mini millinery veils.
I am really tempted to leave out any description of the ceremony, as I am pretty sure I will butcher it as I have the veils. But there were readings, a song and a sermon, vows and rings, and a kiss or two, all accompanied by the soft sound of waves gently crashing and the beautiful backdrop of sand, gorgeous water, sky and forest...and swimmers and sunbathers on down the beach.
Then there were pictures and group pictures and everyone finding their shoes again, and walking out to load up on the waiting taxis, and the ride back into Cruz Bay to The Balcony restaurant. Somehow Charles, Chaia, David and I seemed to have been in the first wave of arrivals. We found seats and enjoyed the view of the sun beginning to set over the harbor, and then started in on the appetizers and the open bar. I know we enjoyed a lot of outstanding food and drinks on this trip, but the reception food and bar were exceptional. The bartenders could of course make you anything you wanted, but they also recommended island favorites--unfortunately the only one I remember was the afore-mentioned bushwhacker. I have long forgotten the particulars, but suffice it to say that we ate very well and drank even better. I suppose I should leave out mention of our table's drinking game during the toasts, but I will blame it on Charles, David and Jody.
The music began and the dance floor was opened, conveniently located right in front of the bar. Great music, great company, and anytime one got tired or too warm, another frozen drink was right there to hit the spot. This paragraph details my version of heaven.
Then an announcement was made that in order to catch the last ferry back to St. Thomas, we must move the party over to the next building, which happened to be the ferry terminal. I was crossing the pier and decided the water looked far too inviting and decided to wait there.
We pretty much had the ferry to ourselves on the way back, and the starlight and water were beautiful.
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| Today we had to get moving early, trying to get to St. John. We packed our day bag and went to breakfast, and visited just a few minutes with Joy and her boyfriend James. Then we walked to the car. (En route I realized the vine covering the trunks of the palm trees was philodendron. The leaves were a foot wide! I don't know why mine never look like that. )
We made it to the car barge in much better time today, knowing where we were going, and backed into place in the parking lot. When the ferry arrived, the parking situation started making sense to me. It wasn't like the car ferries in, say, Galveston; this ferry only had a ramp on one end, not both. Cars have to be backed onto it and then driven forward off the same side. Backing up is too difficult for some drivers, especially one National Parks employee on vacation with her sister's family. The ferry employee who was waving her onto the barge was cracking up as she finally made it aboard on about her third try.
They packed us in. Cars were parked so close that both David and I had to exit through our rental car's passenger door, and then we couldn't even walk between some cars. We found the lady employee who was gathering the fees, but since she was doing that according to the order in which we'd pulled aboard  we gave up and figured she'd find us when she was ready for us.
We went on up to the second story of the barge and sat on benches in the sun. One of our guidebooks had warned that sunburn is a concern when on the ferry, and yes, you're right out there in the blazing sun for twenty minutes. There were palm trees planted in pots on both stories, which looked cool and yet just a little out of place. The views were amazing, St. Thomas behind us and St. John in front.
We got amusement out of watching the National Parks employee interact with her family. She was wearing her uniform as well as official-looking gear and seemed to be spouting information left and right, and at the same time she seemed clueless on some counts. 
Just before we arrived in Cruz Bay, St. John, the lady ferry employee came by, collected our fee and gave us a map of St. John. She informed us that a new car barge dock had been built that the map didn't show, and that was where we'd be arriving, not at the passenger ferry dock. Good information, and yet, it's hard to know where you're going when you don't know where you are.
We drove out of the car barge lot and into Cruz Bay, and were immediately somewhat lost. I could follow along with the map, which contained all the buildings and stores and restaurants, and yet not realize that we needed to turn in time to actually make the turn. Add to that the fact that most of the streets were temporarily one-way due to some construction and...gosh. Cruz Bay is close in and not very big, but chock-full of cute historic buildings that now house shops absolutely crawling with tourists. After about our third trip through the tiny little town, David pulled over and between the one map and a guidebook, we figured out where we were trying to go. (Neglected to get a picture of the smoothie stand built in-and-around a broken-down truck at the edge of one parking lot.) Then after we drove up to the National Park Service office, we couldn't figure out where to park; there were no open places anywhere. I hopped out and asked a NP employee, who was horribly rude. She told me flatly we were supposed to park right there beside the building. I meekly pointed out that all the spaces were either marked for NPS employees or the handicapped and she didn't take it well. We decided to follow her direction and park there in the single open space anyway.
The small NPS office is supposedly the first thing any visitor must see...and the very brief and basic nature exhibits were interesting...but the rest of you can skip it.
You would think we would now have known how to get out of town, but no. It took us two tries, but we did it; we headed out of town on Centerline Road/Route 10 toward Coral Bay at the opposite end of the island. Pretty much as soon as you leave "downtown" Cruz Bay, you are in the "country." There are houses, but they are built out of sight from the road. There is much, much less traffic than either in Cruz Bay or on St. Thomas, but there are more big trucks, mostly water tankers. You're going around these hairpin curves (on a steep incline, of course) and naturally right then you meet a truck too long to stay in his own lane. The driver lays on the horn and everyone comes to a complete stop while he slowly cuts the corner, and then everyone goes right on. The scenery is amazing, though, since Centerline road runs along a ridge across the island. Sixty percent of St. John is a national park, so the scenery won't be changing much; but on the other hand, this (combined with the views) has caused housing prices to skyrocket. We were half-seriously thinking of moving to St. John until we found out that a three-bedroom, two-bath house goes for $3-4 million. 
We passed a couple of little junctions with a house and a gift shop or cafe or two, and after we passed the one at Bordeaux Mountain Road I mentioned I'd really like to go back. I'm really glad I said something, as the view may have been the best of all (somehow missed the mention in the guidebook). Right there beside the road the plants were amazing: amazing crotons, mini palms, bromeliads, snake plants, dracaena and yucca tip--I can recognize the ones I've killed.
We went into the little art gallery and gift shop for a few minutes and ended up buying our one souvenir of the trip: a Christmas ornament of a sea turtle with sunglasses, surfing. (I'm not a big shopper, but the luggage weight limit of the upcoming sea plane jaunt kept me on the straight and narrow this trip.)
Then we continued on our way. It was at about this point that I remembered and mentioned that we hadn't seen any donkeys or goats yet. Literally within seconds we rounded a bend and had to stop for a herd of donkeys --eight, including a young dark one.
After a minute, they cleared the road and we started off again, and then had to stop for a herd of goats. We thought the whole sequence was pretty funny. I was getting hungry by now, and I said something about hoping we got to lunch soon, and again almost immediately we arrived in Coral Bay and saw a sign for the restaurant.  That was the extent of my super powers, but I was pleased with myself.
(Side note: I completely forgot to mention in my first entry of this trip, that that day--Wednesday--was my day for being right. We got to the SA airport and David said something about turning our luggage in right then to the security checkpoint; I thought that was funny, as you always have to go up to the counter first. I mean, the luggage needs to be tagged. Sure enough, in spite of the fact that the online check-in screen had directed otherwise, the security officer sent us to the counter. Then as we were standing in line, I realized we should actually be at the computer kiosk, and a staffer indeed turned us that way. There were a couple other similar incidents, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Unfortunately, the whole thing ended all too soon. Some of us just have to enjoy the taste of being right whenever we can get it. )
We ate lunch in Coral Bay at Skinny Legs, an open-air bar and burger joint. Kitsch abounded, from the menu written out on a surfboard, to the mobile of actual old tennis shoes, to the self-serve water in Igloo coolers, to the mottoes: "a pretty okay place" and "same day service." Unfortunately the drinks were not that great (kind of watery), but the food was pretty good.
We continued along Centerline Road up to part of the actual bay. At least at this section, it didn't really have a beach, just rocks, but it was beautiful.
We had to backtrack a little to the North Shore Road/Route 20, which we wanted to take back around to the west. We wanted to take a different route up to it, but after ten minutes of wrong turns (during which we ran into several large herds of goats as well as a lot of chickens, and saw a combination police department/surf board rental shop) we gave up and took Route 10, which we had come in on. Along the way there were many better views of Coral Bay.
Then, although we didn't really have time, we stopped at the ruins of one of the many sugar plantations. The stonework was pretty, even if more simplistic than the same pattern on the old plantation houses on St. Thomas. It looks as though they used the more plain, large rocks as their main building material, and then set smaller pieces of red and blue rock into the mortar between the big ones. (I think it was at about this point that David noticed that one of the tires on the car was getting low. We didn't really have time to do anything about it, so we hoped it would hang in there.)
Then we finally made it to Trunk Bay. It is gorgeous. Unfortunately we only took an underwater camera down to the beach. The underwater snorkeling trail itself is overrated, but there is a lot to see: many different fish, lots of beautiful coral, and plants. I wish the pictures had turned out better.
As we were snorkeling, I started feeling not so great. When we had been out there about an hour, I felt horrible. We started back to the beach, but before we could get there, I felt like I could just die. I felt like I was going to lose anything I had ever eaten and that I wouldn't want to eat anything ever again. David got me back to the beach and I sat for awhile; I was awfully dizzy. We finally decided that I must have gotten seasick in the waves, which were not even actually that big, and that must have also been the reason I felt so bad in the car after snorkeling at Sapphire Beach on Thursday. I can't remember ever being seasick before this trip, but gosh, it is bad stuff. We gathered our things, I rinsed off in the showers, and we started back for the ferry.
It took us a little bit to find our way to the car barge dock, especially with the construction, but we did it. There wasn't really a parking lot, so we parked in line off to the side of the road. We were only the second car in line, so we knew we had just missed the previous ferry, and it would be a little while before the next one arrived. A little while later, funnily enough, the NP employee we'd seen on the barge pulled in with her family, a car or two behind us. She had to run up to the front of the line and ask if she was in the right place, if this was really a line for the car ferry, and if it would be coming soon.
Again, the views from the ferry were beautiful.
When we arrived back on St. John, David found a gas station, but had some trouble situating the car so he could access the air pump. We had to pull in on the right, which didn't give the other cars much room, but everyone was flexible and figured out how to work around it. Back at the hotel, we cleaned up, got the car (I think it was here that I saw a hermit crab crossing the sidewalk ), picked up Charles and Chaia, and went to Mim's Seaside Bistro for the "cast party." We were handed glasses of rum punch as soon as we walked in, and they kept coming. We chatted with Rob and Liz, Mark and Katy, Rob and Michelle, Alissa and Tom, Sam, Jody and others. After awhile we were directed to the tables and David and I ended up at one by ourselves...very romantic, looking out over the bay. We were served a Caesar salad, and then surf 'n' turf...a huge platter apiece, with a delicious fillet and half a Caribbean lobster, much bigger than the Atlantic ones. Seriously, any three of us could have shared one plate and had more than enough. The lobster was in the house specialty coconut curry sauce and was to die for. I think dessert was Key lime pie.
The speeches and toasts were long and heartfelt, and it was sweet to hear from Rob and Liz's parents, friends and family how much they are loved.
David and I were bushed after our long day and we ended up calling it a night early, about the time the grandparents did.
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| We planned to spend today on St. John, since it was the day we had the most free time. But both David and I had lots of trouble getting out of bed, then we had to find and pack the stuff we needed for the day, and the breakfast buffet included with our room took awhile. (Granola bars would have been quicker. ) Then we ended up going back to our room for stuff we'd forgotten, checked postcard prices at the hotel gift shop ($3.00 each!  ), had to get the car, and then go rent snorkel equipment. And along the way, I had to keep exclaiming at the plants and trees. Seriously, this must be where houseplants go when they die.
I had searched for equipment outfitters online while planning the trip, and chosen Underwater Safaris due to its location and prices. I had printed the e-mail correspondence and tried to print a Google map of the location using the address they gave. In the VI, a lot of roads are named and also numbered. Almost without fail, Google is programmed with the moniker no one actually uses. But surprisingly, after calling the shop only once en route, we found the retail center in Havensight (between the hotel and Charlotte Amalie) fine and got to the store.
We tried on masks and fins, rented those, and bought postcards (three for $1 ), a laminated VI fish identification card and a waterproof pouch for David's keys and wallet, and stamps from the post office next door. (My plan was to use the time on the ferry to write the cards.) Then we started for Red Hook, at the east end of St. Thomas, and the ferry to St. John. We found the passenger ferry terminal with only a few wrong turns along the way, but couldn't seem to locate the car ferry. I think we finally stopped and asked for directions. Turns out we should have been looking for signs for the "barge." We paid our $3 VIDOT (or whatever) fee and pulled into the parking lot.
Everyone was pulled in backwards and parked in rows as tight as possible, facing away from the dock, which made no sense to me. Whatever...we followed suit and backed in close. After about 45 minutes of waiting (and applying sunscreen, since you can get a sunburn riding the ferry), David finally got out and asked when the ferry would be arriving. He was told that they weren't running a full schedule, since this is the off season, and it might be awhile yet. At this point it we weren't going to get to St. John until after noon, and we were going to have to take the 4:30 ferry back, so we decided to scrap our plans and stay on St. Thomas today.
Since we were already on the east end, we drove on around northwest a little around to Sapphire Beach. I don't remember there being a sign for the beach itself, but there was one for the Sapphire Beach Resort. We turned in and got a parking pass from the guard, who told us to place it on the car's dash and that we didn't "want to pay $180 to take a boot off the car." (All of the beaches in the USVI are public, and the resorts are required to allow public access, but they want to know who you are.) We parked, got out of our shorts, left our t-shirts on to guard against sunburn, applied more sunscreen (I was a little paranoid because I was still getting over a sunburn from the day before we left), and gathered our stuff.
We walked along between the buildings, past the refreshment stand, and down to the beach, which was lined with chaise lounges. We set down a few things under a tree, got our masks and flippers and got in the water already. The sand was white coral, the bay was semicircular, and the water a brilliant aquamarine, with dark shapes of coral reefs.
I tried for awhile to get the hang of snorkeling again. I forget each time that it is so foreign. I feel a little panicked and I breathe way too fast until I finally just look at the interesting stuff underwater. That gets my mind off the breathing, which of course then just happens naturally.
There wasn't a whole lot to see right there close to the beach, so we swam a little farther out and tried again. David was having trouble swimming with the flippers, so I tried to see what he was doing differently than I was. It was kind of strange to get something like that better than he did and quicker than he did. I think he was bending his knees as though he was riding a bike, rather than keeping his legs straight.
The underwater landscape wasn't amazing, and it wasn't that colorful, but there was coral and a few fish. Then all of the sudden I saw a huge sting ray about 15 feet over from me, gliding slowly along the ocean floor 10 or 15 feet down. It had to be two and a half or three feet across. I put my head up, grabbed the snorkel from my mouth and yelled for David (who was right behind me, of course). He saw it and started taking pictures with the first of our underwater cameras. We exclaimed over it for awhile and then went looking for more. We saw another sting ray and two sea turtles, big ones, maybe two and a half feet long. The first was near the bottom, munching away on sea grass. So cool! 
Their flippers are a lot less thick and a lot more flexible than I had thought, more like the tail of a big fish. And then somehow I missed it, but David saw the second one surface for a breath and then swim away.
We swam on over to the side of the little bay where there was a bigger reef with more fish. I was very preoccupied, trying to remember all the different fish so I could identify them later. There were pale blue ones, a few bright blue ones, some little blue and yellow ones, and several different kinds of parrot fish. There was brain coral, elkhorn coral, and others, and pointy black anemones. After about an hour, we headed back to the beach for a break and laid on the chaise lounges.
I was still tired from the trip, and my head and stomach didn't feel that great, so I tried to relax in the shade and just be. David sunned for awhile and then went swimming. Then we gathered our stuff and started back for the car. Along the way we saw a sign advertising the beach chairs and realized they were for rent, so we went up to the shop and paid. They were something like $12 each (!) for the public and we regretted our consciences as well as missing the sign on our way in.
I think at this point we started looking for Drake's Seat, the lookout at the highest point on St. Thomas. Supposedly Sir Francis Drake kept an eye on his fleet from this spot. Finding it was a bit of a challenge, though, as the signage in the VI is sorely lacking. We were trying to follow one road, but often you have to turn at intersections to stay on that same route. We also knew we should be close to Sib's Mountain Bar and Restaurant, where we planned to have lunch. David finally pulled over into someone's driveway and called Sib's for directions, as I was completely starving (I guess snorkeling takes it out of you?). I looked over and saw a four-foot long iguana on the top of a retaining wall, munching away on something. Unfortunately the pictures didn't turn out, but there will be more iguana pictures to come.
On our way higher up the mountain (and back down again, as we tried to find the lookout and/or the restaurant, anything!), there were hairpin curves and switchbacks, with gorgeous scenery on first one side and then the other. I was getting hungrier as well as sick to my stomach, whipping my head both ways and trying to keep up with the assents and descents.
Finally found Drake's Seat...
and enjoyed the scenery for awhile.
Then we got back in the car and resumed our search for Sib's. A couple more phone calls didn't seem to help, so we wandered up, down and all around and I kept feeling worse and worse. Finally happened upon it (from the opposite direction we should have) at about 2:45--only to find it didn't open until 4:00. Don't know why whoever had answered the phone didn't mention that fact, but whatever.
So we continued our exploration and drove towards Charlotte Amalie (all of about a mile away). At this point I wanted food, any food, as long as it was real, but David thought the area of town we were in looked a little too sketchy for food. On about the third time through this one section I decided that the sketchiness must just be the buildings' exteriors--they were advertising food, and it surely must be edible! David finally found a parking place a block over, passing chickens scratching in the grass of an empty lot, and we walked in to Dickie's Fast Food.
Dickie's is evidently mostly a bar, and probably doesn't get popular until nighttime, but I was past the point of caring. There were only two tables, which were plastic picnic tables against one wall, and no chairs except for a few bar stools. The liquor behind the bar was displayed on a bookcase. Both restrooms bore "out of order" signs, but the proprietor directed me to the ladies' anyway (other than the toilet seat being duct taped together, the facilities were functional). There were no menus; the drinks were listed on a piece of poster board tacked to the wall. I was directed back to the entry/take out counter to view the food offerings written on a chalkboard, and ordered a cheeseburger (tomato and lettuce cost extra).
That cheeseburger was one of the best ever, even though it was served in a styrofoam take-out container. The onions were sauteed, and I'm pretty sure the patty was hand-formed. David was much less than impressed, and maybe his perspective was the more accurate one, but gosh, it hit the spot in a big way.
Then we drove on into the center of town and found a place to park. I had planned to tour the old Dutch fort on the edge of the harbor, but it is closed and fenced off for renovations.
We walked around it anyway, I tried to get an idea of the architecture, and then we walked through town a little. The Dutch flavor is still very present, with narrow streets and the brick or brightly-painted plastered stone buildings built right up to the sidewalks--reminded me a little of the French Quarter in New Orleans, especially with the galleries and balconies.
Most of the buildings have dark-painted shutters on the windows, supposedly to protect against hurricanes (although as they're closed and padlocked at night, they must protect from break-ins too). The terrain is hilly like San Francisco, and the neighborhoods around downtown are very steep. It is difficult to tell the neighborhood streets from driveways, and at one point we found ourselves at a dead end between houses, with a mama hen and her chicks beside a dumpster scratching through garbage.
Then David found one of the "real" restaurants that was highly recommended: Cuzzin's Barbecue.
The name had made me picture an open-air sidewalk joint, but it was fairly nice, in a historic brick and stone building, with cloth napkins and tablecloths, and really nice art on the walls. David got barbecued chicken (apparently stewed, rather than grilled) with fungi (a cornmeal pudding made with okra), fried plantains, and rice with pigeon peas, all of which were excellent. I ordered a mango colada, which was excellent--my favorite drink of the whole trip.
We walked around downtown a little more, avoiding all the jewelry and high-end clothing stores. Then we made our way back to the car and back to the hotel, and got cleaned up for a reception for wedding guests, held at the hotel bar. The open-air terrace was nice and so was the sunset. We visited with Liz and Rob, Katy and Mark, Rob and Michelle, Mrs. Emery, Sam and met some of Rob's State Department friends, who are fascinating to talk to. Rob Hays highly recommended the mojitos, but commented that the quantity of mint made it seem that one was drinking salad toward the bottom of the glass. Evidently the bartender was heavy with the mint, because they had run out of it by the time David got to the bar. He brought me a peach dacquiri and got himself an Irish martini, following a tip from Mr. McCutcheon.
Then after awhile David went to get the car, Charles and Chaia and I met him, and we started off for Romano's, an Italian restaurant. I want to point out here that Charles and Chaia got into the car again of their own free will. Unfortunately, although David had gotten more used to driving on the left since the previous night, the island had not grown any more signs. We made several turns correctly according to the map, but then had to call the restaurant for help. People in the VI aren't much help with directions; they don't know the number of the road you're on, because no one calls roads by the numbers posted. But on the other hand, there are very few signs with street names, either. The person on the phone could tell me that I would pass two gas stations, and fruit stands and... We called again, wondering if we would have to turn to stay on the correct road, and had to turn on it before we could get an answer. Found a place for a u-turn and tried again. I called a third time and started describing the buildings we were passing (taco stand-type cafes, etc.) and was told we were on the right road, and that after passing two fruit stands we would be close. After the fruit stands I called a fourth time and the guy said we'd gone too far. We turned around again, passed some lighted basketball courts, and Charles saw the restaurant on a side street (!).
The restaurant was actually worth the trouble finding it, as unbelievable as that seemed. The menu choices were amazing, and after the waiter told us the four or five specials of the day I don't know how I ever chose. We started off with the "polenta of the day" (Esther, eat your heart out ) which was spinach polenta with red sauce. Then we ordered. I got the featured salad, which was white beans marinated in olive oil (and maybe herbs?) over beefsteak tomato slices (sounds terribly plain, but boy, was it good); David got veal scallopini marsala; Chaia got fettucini alfredo, I think; and Charles got the linguini with clams. So very good. We had to wait quite awhile for our meals, but the conversation was great and the art on the walls very interesting. The piece across from me was a triptych with the shapes of wine bottles, corks and corkscrews all overlapping, called "No Screw Caps!" For dessert David and I got a merengue, whipped cream and chocolate creation and I don't remember what Charles and Chaia got.
Our return to the hotel involved quite a few less u-turns, and believe it or not, no phone calls whatsoever.
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