The night bus from Flores to Guatemala City was cold and uncomfortable. AC blowing and cramped seats made it impossible to sleep. We made it to the city at 5am where we transferred by taxi to another bus terminal. The streets were already busy with working chapins who got ready for another long day of hard work. Our Tica bus was already more spacious and less crowded. We drove through beautiful scenery filled with volcanoes and lush forests. After crossing the Guatemala-El Salvador boarder and a couple more hours on the bus, we transfered in a cab and 45 min later we finally arrived on the Salvadorian coast.
El Salvador History
There are mixed perception of El Salvador. Some will highlight the natural beauty of the country, from the mix of lush mountains, world-class surfing, spectacular hikes to amazing volcanic crater lakes. Some others will remember the ravage of the civil war of the 1980′s and the succession of natural disasters that left a country in many years of recovery.
The 1979-1992 civil war was a conflict of inequality between the government and guerrillas leaving more than 75,000 dead. Not long after the country had begun to recover, after the peace agreement in 1992, that it was hit by a series of natural disasters like Hurricane Mitch in 1998 and several earthquakes in 2001 leaving 1,200 people dead and more than a million others homeless. Unfortunately, with the addition of international news broadcasting about gangs, violence and crime, most tourists still consider the small Central American country a dangerous place to travel.
El Zonte
The black sand beach welcomes crashing waves that surfers enjoy catching at the break. It is calm, tranquil and beautiful. El Zonte is a little village accessible by a dirt road going down towards the ocean. The mouth of the river flowing through it forms a right point break with rocky bottom which comes popular with both native and foreign surfers looking for a non-crowded wave. This is where we set camp, at El Dorado surf lodge.
Julie went for an early morning surf session. I sat at the local restaurant next door to our lodge and, feet in the sand and cafe con leche at hand, I glimpsed at her trying to catch some waves. The ocean was rough and the swell big. She was definitely having a workout out there.
We took the afternoon to explore the town of La Libertad. Aboard a chicken bus, we made our way to the busy coastal town.
La Libertad
La Libertad is a dynamic port town and a popular tourist attraction only 20-minute bus ride from El Zonte. We walked along the Malecón and found a farmers’ market, hosting souvenir tables and multiple ceviche stations. Mariachis searched for audience and niñas desperately wanted to sell their bracelets. School girls treated themselves with flavoured shaved iced cones and fútbol enthusiasts played on the beach while the sun sat over the horizon.
We went back to El Zonte where we spent a couple of days of pure tranquility. Rare is the electricity at night so we enjoy candle light dinners. No Internet either, so good old ways: grab a book and read a story in a hammock or share travel stories with fellow voyageurs. On our last night, between a sip of Sauvignon Blanc and a bite of fish ceviche, we got the chance to watch a turtle lay her eggs on the black sand beach.
El Tunco
After a few relaxing days, we packed our bags and hopped on a chicken bus toward to El Tunco. El Tunco (”The Pig”) is a little gem located on the Salvadorian coast. Named after the big rock standing tall like a pig in the ocean, El Tunco is growing to become a popular surf town for both locals and international surfers travelling off the beaten path. The place is known as El Salvador’s classic surf town, a long-time surf mecca with its 3 attractive breaks, sun bleached hair surfers and travellers like us that… easily get stuck. With quality waves, good local food, dynamic nightlife, seductive smiles and inspiring sunsets, it is hard to give El Tunco a brief visit. The locals call it the Tunco effect: ”once you come to El Tunco you never want to leave again”.
We located ourselves at La Guitarra, a laid back backpacker hostel with warm and cozy bungalows a few steps from the beach. Whether the need is to read a book by the pool, update the travel diary swinging in a sun-warmed hammock or even bet on a game of billiards with fellow wanderers, La Guitarra is a comfortable and safe option to stay for a short or long stay.
Journal entry:
The sun beamed in the sky and the waves crashed on the sand. I looked at the ocean, my board leashed to my ankle, telling myself:” I guess it’s not that bad. Just massive swells erupting from the ocean. I should totally be fine.” I took the little courage I could find and the non-existent surf knowledge that I had and dove into the agitated sea. Lyz and I paddled pass the break and I felt great. I looked at Julie who stayed closer to the shore and waved with a proud smile. But Julie wasn’t waving back. Instead, she signaled us to come back. Soon enough we realized that we went too far out and were stuck in a rip tide. I got a little worried as I found myself getting closer and closer to the rock. There were no waves to ride back in and paddling back to the starting point was unsuccessful. At the time of confusion and at the edge of concern, we saw 2 surfers paddling towards us. ”You ladies need a hitch?” So there we were, 2 gringas getting rescued by 2 locals. Classic! But this fine picture is a genuine example of hospitality and altruism that the locals grant to tourists. Feet back to shore, I kissed the hot black sand and postponed the surf session. Instead, I sat back on the rocky beach and watched the pros showcase how it’s done.
After a surf session (whether your session was in the water or on the beach working on your skin colour), you might want to put some food in your belly. There is a diversity of laid-back open-air restaurants offering both local and fusion cuisine. Skip the traditional American burger and try the famous fish tacos, or grab a pupusa from a local stand.
Sit down and embrace the local life. As for the nightlife, you can’t miss it on weekends. Start with some peanut butter sushi at Raoul’s and then hit one of the open-aired bars.
D’rocas throw good parties on weekends with live bands. Be part of the celebration and dance the night away, feet in the sand, at the rhythm of a salsa, a rock or a reggaeton. The after party is usually spread on the beach and in the streets. Grab a late night broccoli burrito and perhaps an other beverage at one of the night stand. And this is just one hot night in El Tunco.
A few days went by and I already felt like home. The village is so small that you end up knowing everyone: from the old man renting surfboards, to the fish taco lady, to the Smirnoff server (Julie and I don’t drink beer, but found out that Smirnoff only cost $2. Heaven!), to the henna tattoo artist, to the jewlerly guy to the smoothie lady, to the local surfers.
We spent afternoons just hanging loose, watching the world go by. The boys challenged themselves on their board, carving strong turns and cutbacks, riding on top of the breaking curls. I captured the moments on my camera as they propelled off the waves. If one got tired of surfing, he climbed up El Tunco and showed off a perfect dive. Or perhaps took the paddleboard and exercised his balance pass the break. There possibly might be a volleyball game going on further on the beach.
There is no need to stress. No place to go. No one to meet. Just be there, in a sun ray of light absorbing every moment of life. The sunsets were absolutely amazing, but the last one was the best. I reflected on my last days spent in the surf town and as the sun retired behind El Tunco. I watched the surfers catch a last wave home as the stars came to appear in the sky. The ocean was melodic, the breeze was nice. I felt just fine. I could stay here forever…
Despite the reputation it might have through the years, El Salvador is in all a destination for all avid travellers. Surfing is a natural tourism industry that has grown in recent years as the government focuses on this sector. Local government has invested in the infrastructure like the improvements of the roads, available drinking water supply and security at the beaches and in towns. El Salvador now sees a growing number of international surfers enjoying quality and not-yet crowded waves. Whether it is a stop while travelling through Central America, a surfing adventure, or just an overall sighting of the country, you’ll find that this tiny little piece of land is a pure hidden gem of natural beauties, Salvadorian genuine smiles and pure warm hearts. So if you feel adventurous and want to escape the hustle and bustle of your busy life, buy a ticket to El Salvador, get a tan on your surfboard, fall in love with the ocean curls… you might never return
Guatemala is home to 2 mountain ranges, a multitude of rivers, tropical jungles, lakes and 33 volcanoes (3 still active). The country offers a rich and distinctive culture due to a millennium of Mayan civilization and 3 centuries of Spanish colonial rule. Along with the diverse history, the economy, politics, crafts, architecture, natural beauty of the land, languages and religions, Guatemala is a rich destination to discover.
After 4 hours on a bus driving through coastal plains and rolling limestone plateau, we arrived to the beautiful island of Flores.
We settled in at la Casa Lacandon located right in front of the Peten Itza Lake. $12US a night gave us 2 beds, private bathroom with shower and a lake view. The balcony enveloped by flowers and climbing plants was a great rest area to share travel tips and stories amongst fellow travellers.
Flores
Flores is a very small and quiet island situated on Lake Peten Itza. Geared towards tourists that come to visit Tikal, it is a peaceful stop to make before exploring the Mayan ruins.
We wandered around the charming cobbled-stone streets and colourful alleys in search of souvenirs to bring home. There are plenty of handy-craft stores to be found, full of local hard-wood carvings, colorful blankets, paintings and kitnats arts. Julie chose to bring back to the Canadian North a blanket, a hammock and 2 ponchos. I got myself a stone carved Mayan calendar and 2 seed-carved pipes.
We continued our walk around the island, getting lost in the narrow streets, stumbling upon red-roofed buildings, a historic church and a Spanish plaza. For lunch, you can choose from many restaurants offering international or Guatemalan cuisine. We opted for a local eatery and said ”hell yes” to the special of the day having no clue what we just ordered. On the table came 2 full plates of what seemed to be an egg crepe filled with meat, veggies, beans and cheese topped with a home-made tomato sauce and served with some rice. Oh deliciousness!
At night, we sat back and relaxed at El Thelmo, a little cozy terrasse facing the lake. Sipping on refreshing mojitos and devouring a massive vegetarian sandwich, we contemplated at the sun setting over the lake. We glimpsed at lovers romancing on a bench and sighted an old man watching the time pass by.
Tikal
4am. The town was asleep and darkness covered the streets. No sunrise to wake up to, just the voice of our tour guide yelling ”Tikal” at the bottom of our balcony. Slipped on walking shoes and rain jacket and we hopped on our bus to visit the most spectacular ruins in Guatemala.
We travelled back in pre-Columbian time, somewhere from the 6th century B.C. to the 10th century A.D. We wandered around the archeological remains of the Maya civilization, learnt about their culture and admired temples and palaces. Toucans and spider monkeys curiously followed our steps through the jungle while howler monkeys growlled as the sun rose. I felt like it was already noon as the sun provided an abundance of heat and light, but it was only 8! Tikal is a scenic site in Guatemala that is surely not to be missed.
On our last day in Flores, we decided to take it easy. We snacked on boiled eggs for breakfast, feet hanging above the water on the dock admiring the view of the lake while locals splished and splashed to cool off the morning heat. As the day went by, we snapped some more pictures and embraced the ambiance of beautiful Flores. In the evening, we embarked an old wooden craft and rowed ourselves across the lake. We were the entertaining sight of 2 girls in pink and red dresses attacking waves on an unstable boat in a middle of a big lake. It was the local’s turns to take their phone out and take pictures of us with a laugh.
It was 9:30pm when our taxi arrived. We were all packed up and ready for departure. Direction El Salvador!
I naively thought that with all those years of travelling I somewhat got immune to the traveller’s bug. Well apparently not: I got poisoned in my own country with some old Chinese food that was surviving the day in the chaffers at the airport’s food court. It was a battle of all travels, between body and mind that I thankfully conquered after 20 hours of voyaging.
Travelling in transit is a pain in the butt (no kidding), but time goes by fast when you’re in good company. My girlfriend Julie and I have teamed up for this trip as we were reminding ourselves of the blast we had in Hawaii together 4 years ago. We were also joining our friend Lyz who was already travelling solo.
After 4 airports, 3 flights, no sleep and a food poisoned stomach, we arrived to our first destination: Belize.
Belize: Stay calm and dive
Slow down. You are in the Caribbean and you should relax and breathe for a moment. ”Everything is gonna be all right” like Bob Marley would say. This country predominantly mixed of Creoles, Mestizos and Maya people will genuily welcome you to its land with courtesy, respect and the warmest smiles.
After our taxi from Belize Airport dropped us at the San Pedro Water Taxi station (US$20), we purchased return tickets to Caye Caulker. Sitting in the seat of the captain, we admired our first Belizean sunset over the sea, watching dolphins playing in the last rays of light. The friendly crew convinced us to get dropped at Ambergris Caye first.
Ambergris
Calm, serene, and sand under my feet. The Caribbean music is playing in my ears, a sound that I truly missed.
Ambergris is a famous tourist location in Belize and the most developed of the Cays. We stayed in San Pedro, the main town at the South of the island. We found a very cheap guesthouse called ”Ruby’s” for US$20 a night, double occ., fan and shared showers.
There are few ways to travel around the Cayes: you can walk, bike or rent a golf cart. We opted for the last option, and played tourists for a day. We explored the town, venturing on dirt roads and along mangroves. We stopped at different docks where we jumped off to cool off.
But the main reason why I came to Belize was predominately to dive. I had been diving almost everyday while on my long term stay in the Cayman Islands and I missed the underwater wonders. So we booked a tour with AquaScuba to dive the shallow site of Ho Chan and snorkel the Shark Ray Alley. The dive was mellow and pleasant and offered us a good assortment of diverse marine life: 4 large moray eels, a multitude of stingrays, a 3-legged turtle called I-Lean and massive groupers. My favourite stop was at the Shark Ray Alley where we swam with a dozen of docile nurse sharks.
#62. Swim with sharks √
At night we had taco purchased from a street stand. We met a few locals that brought us to a local hangout where we had few happy hour rum punches. They also introduced us to their weekly “Chicken Drop”.
Diving the Great Blue Hole
It was 5am. The early workers were already breaking the silence of the night. I grabbed my pre-packed bag, put on a bikini and made my way to the dock.
The warm colors of the sun reflected gradually on the water as it rose up in the sky. I snacked on some fresh cut pineapple and waited for the rest of our crew before jumping aboard our charter.
Located at about 62 miles off the coast rests a large underwater sinkhole: the Great Blue Hole of Belize. It is known as a world-class destination for divers, those ones that have that kind of list of things to check before you die. You know? Well, I am one of them. The Blue Hole has been on my list for a while now and I am about to check off that impressive point.
I went back in times and imagined myself as Jacque Cousteau, ripping the Caribbean waters in search of a new aquatic adventure. Although I was alone (Julie decided to stay on island and cruise around), I had no problem enjoying the salty wind in my hair and spotting turtles and dolphins. After 3 hours of scenic ride, pondering on life and its amazing beauties, we arrived to destination.
It is a deep blue indigo circle. About 1,000ft diameter across, 500ft deep. I had butterflies in my stomach. Neither from stress nor nervosity, but from excitement and pure happiness.
The snorkelers hit the reefs around the hole. As for divers, we slowly descended into the hole…
It was deep. It was dark. 60ft, 100ft, 120ft, 130ft… And there they were, those impressive stalactites and stalagmites forged out of solid rock as caverns hundred of thousands of years ago during the last ice age. I was Jacque Cousteau exploring the wonder of the seas. So I grabbed my GoPro and intended to photograph those marks of old age. And then, as I turned around to have a glimpse at the interior of the hole, came a shark. And another one. Next thing I know, there were 20 of them curiously swimming around me. I was so excited that I dropped 10ft until my Dive Master grabbed me and brought me back to a stable level. I have been diving Cayman everyday while I lived there and I have never seen a shark. And then I was in the Blue Hole of Belize swimming with schools of Caribbean reef sharks and Blacktips. I couldn’t be more amazed!
#47: Dive the Great Blue Hole of Belize √
I boarded the boat with the greatest smile. The butterflies were high and alive and I was in a far heaven. This was a unique experience and I am so thankful to life to have created such amazing pieces.
We navigated to our second dive site, the Aquarium, where we spent about an hour under the crystal-clear waters spotting a diverse marine life. Our lunch made of rice, beans and veggies was then offered on a deserted island where the sand is white and the palm trees grow high in the sky. A natural trail invited us to have a closer look at the white Boobies, only found on this piece of sand.
We put sails up and cruised to our last dive, the aquarium where tropical fishes, turtles and moray eels followed us along.
When 5pm came, we put the compass direction San Pedro. As the rum punches and life conversations amongst fellow dreamers aboard flowed around, I watched the sun colour the sky as it sets over the Caribbean, and I tell myself: ”Pura Vida”.
Caye Caulker
We left San Pedro the next day and made a stop at Caye Caulker where we spent a night. Caye Caulker is a very small and quiet island full of colourful houses and golf carts. It didn’t take long to walk around the small piece of sand. It was a rainy day and potholes covered the white sand streets and palm tree fronds flapped violently in the wind. No shoes was a trend that day, or is it everyday? But despite the weather, the streets were still active. Artists had their kiosks set-up under thin tarps. The coconut guy found a shelter for his stand under, well, a coco palm. Tourists refuged in a cafe, connecting with the world on their iphones and ipads, sipping on warm cups of Belizean coffee.
From diving its beautiful clear waters to enjoying its melting pot of cultures, Belize has been nothing less than an amazing adventure. It is time to pack up and hit the road again. We will catch a ferry to Caye Caulker and stop there for a night. Then ferry our way back to Belize City where we will catch a bus all the way to Flores, Guatemala.
“Drink chhaang, nectar of the Gods. Then eat shutki”.
I couldn’t decide which aspect made me more hesitant: the pungent aroma of the fermented millet drink wafting into my nostrils or the sun-dried little fishes, their round eyes fixed on me eerily. As I directed their heads toward my mouth, my face contorted in anticipation of the impending circus about to unfold on my taste buds—my expression unmistakable. With each sip of the glass, I chased it down with a fish, battling the unique combination. Upon triumphantly finishing my glass, Manik promptly refilled it.
“Oh no, thanks, Manik,” I implored, grappling with a piece of fish scale lodged between my teeth.
“It’s a mountain tradition! The glass is always full. Drink!” he insisted, his chubby cheeks flushed from the consumption of the homemade brew as he passed around the shutki.
Manik, a 5-foot tall Nepali, didn’t fit the typical stature of a Himalayan guide. However, his weathered skin, yellowed eyes, and chapped lips attested to prolonged exposure to the sun and cold, characteristic of a life in the mountains.
Two days prior, we had booked a three-day trek around Kathmandu, the capital and gateway to tourism in Nepal. Nestled at the foothills of the Himalayas, Nepal had been a sought-after destination for trekkers and climbers since the 1950s and had long been on my travel wish list. This trek was the perfect start to our two-month backpacking adventure through South Asia.
“I’ll set you up with our best guide,” the tour agent affirmed while finalizing our booking. “He’s a very experienced trekker and has great knowledge of the area. You’ll undoubtedly like him.”
Day 1: 16km to Chisapani (2340m)
In the early morning of November, Manik collected us from my hostel. The taxi delivered us to the entrance of the Shivapuri National Park, situated on the northern edge of the Kathmandu Valley in Sundarijal. Chickens roamed freely near a set of steep stone steps carved into the mountain, while goats accompanied our ascent, intermittently grazing on woody plants lining the trail. We ventured through expansive forests of pines, oaks, wild cherry, and rhododendrons. As the forest gradually receded, we entered rural villages, catching glimpses of villagers engaged in their daily routines.
The scenery became more enchanting with every step we took. We journeyed through alpine meadows, traversed yak pastures, and crossed glacial moraines. Gradually, we ascended to the clouds, piercing through thick fog and inhaling the crisp mountain air. In the jungle, where the trail narrowed, we noticed prayer flags hanging from the trees, gracefully floating through the mountain mist. As we continued to gain elevation and hiked along the mountainside footpath, we were treated to breathtaking views unveiling a dramatic landscape of maize fields and rice terraces below.
Upon reaching Chisapani, we stepped into a candlelit teahouse where a gathering of guides and porters engaged in lively conversation around a table.
Manik extended a warm invitation to the rooftop terrace, where he joyfully served us hot tea from a gleaming silver tray.
The night embraced a chilly atmosphere as winds swirled through the crevices of the stone walls. With no electricity in the teahouse, darkness enveloped the space, rendering it cold and immersed in quietude. I curled into a ball, enveloped by wool blankets, memories filling the emptiness as I gradually drifted into a serene slumber.
Day 2: 15km to Nagarkot (2195m)
At 5 am, we awoke to a profound silence, as if transported to a different world immersed in a tranquil haze. The heavy fog slowly crept in through the windows, resembling a ghostly mountain presence.
Embarking on our daily trek, well-rested and nourished, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of my own lack of fitness as we tackled the slanted trail. My legs struggled with each step.
Manik, with his round-shaped head, suggested, “I can carry the bag,” nodding persuasively with a warm smile.
“Oh, no, but thanks,” I declined with a slightly frazzled smile.
He insisted, “I’ve been a porter before, carrying big bags for weeks—bigger than you, bigger than me.” He gestured, exaggerating the size of a tourist’s bag with his lean body. His goofiness amused me, but I resisted his offer, contemplating my decision with each sweaty step.
“How was it to be a porter?” I asked while navigating across a river.
“Very hard. My family was poor. Before being a porter, I worked in corn fields. Mountain life is very challenging.”
Manik shared his past life in the city, working as a rickshaw driver. Unfortunately, he almost lost a leg in a traffic accident. He returned to the mountains to recover and eventually became a porter.
“No English,” he continued, wind tousling his raven-black hair. “Carrying tourist bags for days, weeks, months in the mountains. Hard work. People can be mean. No shoes. I may not look strong, but I am very strong.” He flexed his biceps with a giggle, feet sliding into his oversized, well-worn sneakers.
“Porter for 15 years,” he continued. “Hard work. Learned English by talking to tourists like you. Now I’m a guide. Hoping to trek Everest. Good money on Everest,” he explained, pointing to the horizon.
“Do you have a family?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he affirmed, pride sparkling in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Three boys. I guide now. Can afford education. Hoping for the best future for my boys.”
As I delved into Manik’s life stories, the trek became more effortless. How could he exude such contentment, being healthy inside and out, living a life so distant from my own? I empathized, inspired by his optimism and heartened by his genuine care.
Eight hours and a dozen swollen bug bites later, we reached the second summit of our trek, Nagarkot. My legs were inflamed, my face beet-red, and sweat dripped endlessly from my forehead.
“How I’d love a glass of wine right now!” I exclaimed between breaths.
“I’ll find wine for you!”
I watched as Manik trotted down the dirt hill, fading with the dusk.
As the moon ascended and settled in the sky, we gathered around a low table, perched on wooden drums outside a vendor’s hut. With the company of a fellow guide, Manik uncapped a reused water bottle and poured the chhaang into four glasses. Then came the shutki. The family residing in the hut observed us with curiosity from within.
He inquired about our journey, and I asked about his dreams. We engaged in a conversation about life, all while the moon traversed the starry sky.
Day 3: 15km to Thamel
We witnessed the sunrise over the Himalayas, observing the snow-capped Mount Everest gradually piercing through the blushed clouds. As I reflected on the hues of the sky, my thoughts turned to Manik and how he guided me to see things in a new light. Much like my taste buds, he heightened my awareness of things I had previously failed to appreciate. While tourists busily snapped photographs of the morning spectacle, I found myself lost in contemplation, pondering the why and the how, gazing upon a life woven with both beauty and hardship.
We returned to the bustling backpacking town of Thamel, where the narrow alleys were congested with both tourists and locals. Soon, I found myself yearning for the tranquility of the mountains, where my thoughts could wander freely amidst the expansive open space.
I gifted Manik my brand new trekking shoes, a perfect fit for his feet. In return, he draped a white silk scarf around my neck—a khata, symbolizing compassion and purity.
Our paths diverged, leading us in different directions. As I stood amidst the bustling crowd, I closed my eyes, transported back to the mountains, navigating rugged trails through the Himalayan mist alongside Manik.
“You want chhaang?” he’d inquire.
I’d smile, savouring the memories and the lessons I had gained. “Absolutely, I’d love some chhaang.”
August 29th, 2012: I left a piece of sand. I left behind my island jeep, my snorkeling gears, my oceanfront condo full of stories. I left my friends. I left my life in the Caribbean.
From working solid hours to diving everyday, to swimming to the reef in my front yard, to cruising around the island in my roofless car, to the late night life chats on my balcony looking at the stars, to the simpleness of life under a tropical sun… Cayman Islands you were a paradise in all!
Why did I leave? Well, there was the end of the lease. I only planned on staying for 6 months… almost 2 years ago. And my roommate, the best roomy ever, was about to leave. Signing a new year lease, finding a new roommate, that was way too scary for me. It was like doing it all over again. Plus, I had friends, dogs and a job waiting for me back home. It was time for me to go… Was it?
I miss the island everyday though. I left when I finally made the place feel like home. I had new opportunities opening up to me. I had good friends. I was constantly doing something new. Being on the water everyday reminded me how important this element is to me. I got offered to be an underwater photographer apprentice. I also got offered to operate a watersport business…
So why did I leave? When you feel something in your heart pushes you to do something, sometimes you might hit a stomp, sometimes everything make sense. My heart needed to be back and catch up on the important people of my life, to see my dogs grow and to see the snow fall again. I wanted to be cold. I wanted to experience my home in the mountains again.
I am happy to be back. It is still summer here and the reflections of the snowy mountains on the lakes look fantastic. I caught up on my friends, spend quality time with my dogs and breathe the fresh air. It is good to be cold!
I think of Cayman everyday. I will go back for sure. Either to visit or to stay and work and play. We’ll see. The Cayman Islands chapter has arrived to its end. Now, I need to get to know home.
Our 20 seat aircraft put wheels down on the deserted landing of St-Thomas’ only airport. Our friend greets us as we step down the stairs of the small plane. Sebastian is a friend we met in Grand Cayman. He moved to St-Thomas after he was offered a very attractive position within the Marriott hotels. As a matter of fact, this will be our home for the next few days (remember I am vacationing and not travelling this time, so I can indulge myself with this extravagance).
St-Thomas is a small island of the Caribbean, neighbouring to the east of Puerto Rico. Along with the islands of St-John and St-Croix, it is known as the US Virgin Islands, an other unincorporated territory of the States. Even with its bitty size, St-Thomas has a ton of activities to do for everyone. From sailing, scuba diving, sightseeing, shopping or dining. Families, honeymooners or vacationers like us girls will find something to suit our holiday wants and needs.
Before anything else, we need to cheers to our reunion with a refreshment. We stop at Hooters to try one of their famous cocktails. I choose the Tropical Rum Punch (of course I did), and am astonished by the quantity and quality of the 5 different local rums (yes, I did said 5) that this generously voluminous Hooters girl pours in my giant ”to go” cup (it is common to walk from bar to bar with a beverage purchased somewhere else. How convenient). The drink is tasty and is perfect to celebrate. We import our sippy cup to a local bar next door where we meet up with some of Sebastian’s friends. Again, to honor the moment, we cheers with a colossal shot of jager (it seems the smaller the island gets, the more the portions expand..)!
We wake up to a beautiful morning in the US Virgin Islands. Staying at the Marriott is indeed a real treat. Comfy beds, mouthwatering breakfast buffets, infinity pool with stunning views and of course, the pool bar. Amber and I decide to play the lazy tourists for a day and soak in the pool under the Caribbean sun rays, sipping on delicious tropical cocktails here and there, snacking on finger foods now and then and just splurging in every second of our amazing vacation.
When the night comes, we put our evening dresses and wander around the resort. The air is warm but fresh and we admire the lights beautifully reflecting on the outdoor pools as a cruise ship pass by. The Frenchman’s Reef and Morning Star Marriott Beach Resort is a destination itself. With its 4 pools, a luxurious sea spa, great dining options and stunning views of the ocean and the island harbour, it is easy to forget about the outside world. After all, we are on vacations. We hang out at the Rum Bar, an area overlooking the harbour. It is a gorgeous evening.
But the bars in St-Thomas close late and the evening is young. Why not step outside of the resort and explore the local hangouts. We drive east, to the opposite side of the island and stop in the area of Red Hook. A few open air bars host a blend of tourist, expats and locals.
Today, we decide to go visit St-John. Aboard Sebastian’s roofless Jeep Wrangler we cruise up and down the hills of St-Thomas and catch the ferry towards the sister island.
The Global Marine Tug’s life offers us a picturesque 25 minute cruise towards our destination. At arrival, we roam through the roads of St-John. The drive is spectacular: the waters are electric blue, the trees are vivid green, the sand is perfect gold. Just another piece of paradise on Earth!
Obviously, a day in St-John wouldn’t be complete without stopping at one the open air bar and enjoying their Happy Hour. From a variety of beers and cocktails to choose from, it is easy to get stuck there a whole afternoon sipping on 1$ bevies. Our stop to warm up the seats was at Woody’s where we enjoyed yummy… well you know, Rum Punches.
The time has come to say farewell to our friend. We thank him for his generous hospitality and for the opportunity he gave us to touch sumptuousness. We definitely had a luxurious stay and could have not asked for more. We crack a bottle of red at a local pub to close our visit. Oh and of course, a shot of rum!
STT-STX-SJU-ATL-GCM
This Caribbean island hopping was brief but surely filled with surprises and laughs and undeniable smiles. From the people we met and became friends, to the roads that lead us to the unexpected, to the vivid colours of the natural landscapes and to the true cheers to life we made, this vacation, with all its luxury, has been one of the finest!
Footloose Diary 
