Sint Maarten: Day 11

This was another day that started by me somehow managing to wake up at 8:00 AM without an alarm or any form of prompting. While I wouldn’t have minded waking up a bit earlier, I can’t really complain as I still had plenty of time to accomplish what I needed to accomplish before my father’s return.

Much of what I needed, or more aptly, wanted, to accomplish related to internet-based activities. These were out of the way, along with breakfast, by 10:00 AM. I was then able to move onto the important realm of recreational reading.

This is an area in which I hoped to excel during this trip, but much to my disappointment I have been no better than mediocre. Instead of spending each morning reading I am putting in an hour or so at the most, and spending the rest of my time surfing the web and taking photos of the lagoon (which I then delete). Fortunately, I was able to read (and enjoy) the George Saunders collection of short stories that I brought down.

I can’t say as much about a book that Steven gave me. As much as I try, “Me, Natalie” just doesn’t seem to be working for me. Actually, the only redeeming aspect of the book, the main character’s frequently witty one-liners, seems to have faded into a sea of self-pity and self-loathing. If I manage to make my way through this book it will only be as a favour to Steven so that he won’t have to.

More fortunately, I have managed to make my way back to Mr. Waugh and his Men at Arms. Just today I was able to knock off a good 50 or so pages. With a few more hours of reading I should be able to kill it off and move on to Put Out More Flags.

At least this last goal is in sight, some of the goals I came here with seem to have stayed on the plane and returned to wherever it is they came from. The three or four other books that I transported almost three thousand miles will likely remain largely untouched, eventually heading back to Montreal in the same shopping bags that transported them so far south. I guess I could at least do them the courtesy of carrying them out to the balcony so that they could get a blast of fresh Caribbean air.

Eventually the reading progress that I mentioned earlier came to a halt and I switched my attentions to the pressing need of completing as many games of solitaire as possible while in a Caribbean island. Fortunately, I have been much better at this task than reading. In each of the past few days I have been able to deal a dozen or so games a day. Of course many are loses, but this doesn’t really matter as both wins and loses still go towards my total number of games played.

After consuming a sandwich, and playing a few more games of solitaire, my father returned from work so that we could head back to Orient Beach to try our catamaran lesson again. As he was earlier than expected we decided to try to hit the mail a few post cards on the way.

This last task has been surprisingly troublesome. Our several visits to the French post office have been thwarted by our not having Euros, while our attempts mail the cards from the Dutch side have been dashed by the very limited opening hours of the post office.

This seemed like, and was, our chance actually head through Simpson Bay at a time when the post office was actually open. Soon after arriving it was our turn to transact our business with the clerk. My father then explained that we would like to send six postcards and buy stamps for two more.

It turned out that this particular post office happened to be out of stamps, and was instead using stickers that showed how much postage had been paid. This was somewhat frustrating as part of the reason for sending the cards from the Dutch side was to include the supposedly colourful and exuberant stamps of Sint Maarten. I guess this will have to wait for another visit, or a trip to the main post office in Philipsburg (which isn’t very likely).

After our pseudo-success at the post office we continued on to Orient Beach. After parking we made our way to the restaurant with the Newfoundland flag. For lunch my father had the French dip sandwich while I had a burger and fries. As far as I know he was satisfied with his meal, I know that I was satisfied with mine. One of the particularly pleasing aspects of the meal (and something that we learned the last time that we were in this establishment) is that their iced tea is real and served without sugar.

Soon after we finished eating we made our way back down the beach (away from the nude section) towards the sailing facility. Soon after arriving and slathering ourselves in sunscreen Yvon was ready to take us out.

This time I took charge of the craft. While things worked out relatively well we were definitely having a few problems with our 90-degree turns. As much as Yvon explained things we didn’t seem to quite have it down. Part of the problem, though this may be unlikely, was that I might have been focusing on handling the rough water more than on appropriate turning protocol. Not only did I have to deal with actual (though small) white caps, the swells did cause sizeable sections of the catamaran to be lifted from the water.

Eventually my father and I switched positions, with similar results (though this was less stressful to me as I was no longer the one reading the wind incorrectly or steering in the completing the steps of the turn in the wrong order).

Eventually, after a number of ineffective turns on each of our parts, Yvon took the tiller and showed us what he meant for us to be doing. Immediately, we both saw that when he ‘released’ the line he didn’t do it all at one as we had, but rather it was done gradually to always catch the wind, like the release of the clutch when starting from a standstill.

Though it is likely that we didn’t perfect our turns into our against the wind, it is likely that we would do a better job the next time we go out, and we would certainly have a better idea of what it is that we are trying to accomplish.

Unfortunately, this realization was only grasped as we were preparing to end our lesson, but at least it was grasped. We then made for shore, eventually beaching the boat just below the operation’s building. The three of us then hauled the catamaran from the surf to a section of the beach well beyond the reach of even rogue waves.

After dropping off our life jackets and gather our belongings we again headed out from Orient Beach, this time possibly for the last time. Amazingly, in the three or so times we have visited the beach neither of us has had the opportunity to be completely submerged in the water or even to get our hair wet (which is nice as it means that it isn’t covered in salt when we return home).

Once back in Maho we again hit the store for dinner supplies. This time, as they were out of the cheap beef we both like so much, we went for (very reasonably priced) chicken breasts. Much to my father’s chagrin they were still out of lactose free milk. We also picked up two ginseng pops as well as a watermelon soda (for my father).

Soon after returning home, but not before starting another load of laundry, we started cooking dinner. As everything was pretty simple and straightforward, this wasn’t a complicated process. At the pre-arranged time I turned on a few burners, and eventually the broiler and microwave. As usual the meals were served near the stove to save on serving dishes, which is particularly acceptable, as we don’t tend to have leftovers that might be stored in such dishes.

Soon after my father transferred the laundry from the washer to the drier we were ready to eat. Both of us enjoyed our relatively low fat meal of rice, carrots, brocoflower, and chicken. Also, both of us managed to maintain our memberships in the ‘Clean Plate Club,’ thus negating the need for another trip to the post office to send our food scraps to some more needy locale.

After the laundry had been dried and folded (and a Skype called to Newfoundland attempted) my father headed back to work to continue working on upcoming lectures. I stayed in the apartment without any pre-defined plans. As I am a resourceful guy I was able to find a few things to do with my time, many of which involved reading of one sort or another (though not necessarily of books or other worthwhile materials).

One of the non-reading related activities was to mix beer and crème de cassis to create a drink that would hopefully be reminiscent of similar drinks that I consumed while in the UK. The first combination I tried was a Presidente with a little of the stuff. Much to my surprise, the drink wasn’t all that bad. Later in the evening I tried a similar mix, this time with Carib as the beer. What soon became apparent was that this was a pretty potent mix (mores o than when one is just using blackcurrant cordial).