JUNE, 2025 SAN MAARTEN STORY

Planes overhead, while we are swimming in the resort pool, are a constant reminder of the short time vacationers spend here on this little chunk of paradise that was discovered by Christopher Columbus on St. Martin Day in 1493. What I don’t understand is how he managed to herd his crew back onto the boat and go back to Spain, at the height of the Inquisition and other blood-curdling funzies, after sampling the natural beauty of this jewel in the Caribbean.

After getting squared away in our suite, we did a bit of shopping for our “necessary supplies,” cocktail stuff, fruit, vegies, and snacks…Nuts, et cetera. The resort people, are kind enough to reserve our usual two-bedroom, two-bath, “piano bass and drums,” suite with a full ocean view, and a full kitchen. Thus we can have meals out, or in our own little world.

Going to the food market, and/or the other stores, for the “Islander shirts,” et cetera, we use the local transportation. The buses run from just outside of the parking lot of our resort, as do the taxis. Here’s the fun part: they are all incredibly honest. When I gave a bus driver $5.00 for a ride for the two of us, and started to get off of the bus, he stopped me and said that I had overpaid him, and attempted to give me a couple of dollars back, at which point I told him that it was a “tip.” He smiled, and accepted it.

At one point, we had a taxi driver take us to a supermarket on the “other side” of the island. When we arrived, I asked how we could get in touch with him to pick us up. He said simply, “How much time do you need?” I told him 90 minutes would be adequate. He said, “Okay. I’ll be here in 90 minutes.” I tried to pay him at that point, but he indicated for me to pay him when he brought us back to our resort, which we did. How’s that for trust? Here is an area of the market where we do some of our shopping. At one point, I asked one of the guys in the meat department if he had any just plain salami. He rummaged around for a couple of moments, and then handed me a Hebrew National Kosher Salami. I guess we would just have to “make do.” It was then that I saw this display. Being fresh off the plane, I wasn’t too observant. I basically had onion soup for brains.

This is a view from our suite. If you think that it looks like a page out
of the “We Need It Book,” you’d be absolutely correct.

Directly behind the pool is a well-stocked bar, complete with “heavy-handed” bartenders. Behind the bar is a restaurant that serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. One evening, we decided to have dinner there. I ordered Surf ‘n’ Turf, which had prime rib listed as the “turf” portion. A few minutes later, our waitress said, apologetically, “We’re all out of prime rib. Would a rib-eye steak be okay in its place?” Rib-eye is one of my favorite cuts of beef. Thus it was that I made do with the lobster and rib-eye…Oh the sacrifices we make when away from home!

Among other artisans on the island, we found this gentleman making sugar cane juice (not exactly the ideal libation for diabetics, like moi). Nonetheless, he, like the vast majority of the inhabitants of “The Friendly Island,” was cool.

After a couple of days of shopping, and “pooling,” it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty, or as the ancient Greeks would say, “Nittus Grittus” of why we were here. Yes. Snorkeling time! It had been a few years since we bought our face masks, and found that they leaked…HORROR OF HORRORS! Just up the street from our resort is a diving shop owned and operated by a couple of very experienced, in water sports, ladies, who remembered us from our purchases there over the years. They saw our problem with our masks, and immediately diagnosed the cure. YES. New masks. Thank goodness, they have a tank on the premises to try out the new masks to make sure that they are watertight, and that they fit properly. What we really enjoy about these masks is that we can talk while wearing them, both above the water, and down under the water, while photographing the denizens, as well as the flora. Sometimes the sound gets a bit muffled underwater, but that’s okay. The essence comes through! Yes. This picture was taken from the water.

Many of these finned folks look like others we have seen, and/or photographed, in other underwater climes. The colors, and behavior patterns are a constant source of fascination to us. That’s basically why we snorkel….Along with the exercise, of course.

One can stay in the water just so long, and then it’s time for aloha-shirt hunting. We took a bus to the area where we had always gone to try-on, and bargain with the shirt-people. This time, we met a lady named Debby, who took us to a huge store full of shirts, reasonably priced, and full of many sizes and styles. The name of the store is “Nobles.” When we saw the name, we wondered if this was some sort of portend, or foreshadowing of things to come. It’s owned and operated by a gentleman from India named Raj. As soon as we “namasteed” with him, we knew that we were in for a fun time, as well as some hip shirts. We were not disappointed. His sister was also in attendance, constantly telling him what a “dope” he was. He took the barbs in stride, rather like an episode of the “Honemooners.” Yes. We made a substantial amount of purchases of stuff that up until that moment we hadn’t realized that we needed in order to preserve life on this planet. A good time was had by all. Here are a couple of examples of the “booty,” carefully selected to match the cocktails.

WE SHALL RETURN!!

In Prague, we attend religious services at the Chabad Synagogue. They are practically in every corner of the world. Thus, we go to them for High Holy Days, as well as Sabbath, or as it is said in Hebrew, Shabbos, or Shabbat. The difference in pronunciation is due to the fact that northeastern European Jews, Ashkenazi, pronounce certain words with an “S” ending, and Mediterranean Jews, Sephardim, pronounce them with a “T” ending. Naomi and I are Ashkenazi Jews. So there we were on the island of St. Martin, San Maarten, or whatever spelling you prefer, when we found a Chabad Synagogue within walking distance of our resort. The rabbi, Moishe Chanowitz, welcomed us with open arms, much like Prague, Warsaw, San Diego, Tokyo, and, well you get the idea. We enjoyed the prayer service, as well as the camaraderie afterward. As I mentioned above, and in every story of this island, it truly is “THE FRIENDLY ISLAND.” People of every color, and ethnicity work, play, dine, and live in perfect harmony. It’s such a relief from the majority of the rest of the “civilized” world.

Here we are in front of the Chabad House. Yes. The shirts are from Noble’s.

To cap off this visit, we had to sample the wonderful street barbecue up the street from our resort. When we were first there, twenty-five years ago, a young man, and his wife had a couple of burners, a refrigerator, and a lot of ambition. His name was, and still is, Dominique. Their barbecue, along with the usual sides, was wonderful. He said that in time he would expand, which he did, along with his business. Yes. He is a bit rotund. He also said that he was going to use the catch-phrase, “Organic BBQ.” I told him that everyone else was using “Organic” to sell whatever they were pushing. I then suggested that he use the catch-phrase, “Orgasmic BBQ,” which he laughed at, but wound up using. Yes. To this day, you can get “Orgasmic BBQ” on Welfare Road, Simpson Bay, St. Martin. It really is super good. Sadly, we didn’t have our cameras with us to memorialize this neety-keen eatery.

For some reason, people gather on the street, directly in the take-off and landing flight pattern to see, and hear the planes take off and land, like this.

Having gone on “All of the rides,” it was time to pack, and once again bid a fond farewell to this Caribbean gem.