A Few Quick Notes 480

-Today was a pretty decent fall day. My understanding is that tomorrow isn't supposed to be quite as nice.

-I had the pleasure of leading a class today. Unfortunately, two of the five students weren't able to make the class so the dynamic was a little off. That being said, I think that things went relatively well, or at least not horribly.

-This afternoon, while I was backing up a few files, I came across a few photos and videos earlier today I happened upon a few photos and videos from my 2008 trip to Sint Maarten. I decided to upload one of the Sint Maarten airport videos.



[Embedded video]

-I prepared another few pounds of vegetables tonight. I am slowly working my way though the bowl with little help from anyone else.

A Few Quick Notes 173

-While today has been a little warmer than yesterday the high of 12 was a little disappointing. Fortunately, the sun was a little more visible than it has been these past few days and the rain seems to have temporarily stopped. While we are supposed to carry on in a similar vein tomorrow, it seems that the middle of the week will put us back into the rain and fog cycle.

-Tomorrow my father and I are scheduled to head out on a converted fishing vessel to go iceberg hunting. Though one might expect me to know approximately where we are going I don't. Hopefully we are able to see a few impressive bergs, and maybe even scoop up a few of the smaller pieces of ice.

-This afternoon my father and I removed a section of wall at the adjoining house. This is the first demolition of this house that I have taken part in since my demolition party of '05. Unlike the last time, this experience involved less beer and tools more complex than bare hands and feet.

-In a few minutes, even though it is less than ideal weather, I will head out to the back patio and toss a few burgers on the grill. It is likely that once Greg and I finish eating that we will head to the downtown region, though this hasn't been settled. As I have to leave on the early side for my boat trip I hope not to stay out all that late.

-Yesterday my sister went on 'tour' with her youth choir. This is her first tour with the choir since she joined last fall. While previous tours have taken choir members to such places as England and Denmark, this trip will seem them visiting such towns as Gander and Harbor Breton. As far as I can tell she seems to be enjoying things so far, though I have no idea how the singing is going.

-I think that the recent posting drought is likely related to the over abundance of posts that occurred while I was in Sint Maarten. After such an output and the subsequent diminished excitement level the idea of posting every day has seemed difficult and somewhat unimportant (as I guess this entire exercise is anyway). Anyway, I guess I will see if I can continue somewhat regular posting as we enter the Summer.

Sint Maarten: Day 16

To continue the trend my father and I awoke before 8:00 AM (though I did think that I had slept in when I got out of bed). This early rising time was actually quite good as we were expecting the physiology department chair to stop by at about 8:00 to pick up the new visiting faculty member. While at the apartment there were a few things that my father was to pass over, concluding his work of the university.

At the appointed hour the department chair arrived as planned. Shortly after arriving she invited my father and I to join herself and the new faculty member for breakfast in Marigot. Without much hesitation we agreed to go. I was particularly keen to go, as we didn’t really have that much food left in the apartment.

The selected breakfast location was a bakery/pastry shop in the centre of Marigot. Almost as soon as I walked under the awning I was pretty sure that I would be able to find something satisfactory on the menu. Eventually I ordered fried eggs and bacon (which also came with some bread). We also had a basket of croissants for the table. As it turned out, though this was not my plan, I had two of the four croissants. Much to my surprise, these were some of the best croissants that I have had in years, they alone would have been worth the trip.

Soon after finishing breakfast my father and I started to make our way back to our apartment while the women with whom we had breakfast continued on to Pinel Island, which is just of the coast from the beach at Orient Bay.

Once back at the apartment my father finished a few practice questions that he promised the students while I continued with some recreational reading. Soon enough we were both in a position to head to the airport to check in. We had decided to do this to beat any afternoon rush that might occur.

Upon arriving at the airport it was immediately clear that we had definitely arrived before any possible rush. From the time that we entered the airport to the time that we had deposited our bags and were heading back to the car was less than 15 minutes, qualifying us for free parking.

Instead of waiting for our arranged ride to the airport at 1:30 we decided to just head down here almost as soon as we were back at the university. Arriving early wasn’t such a problem, as we basically just would have been waiting around no matter where we were.

We did try to contact the gentleman who was to give us a ride, but we were without luck. My father suggested that we just try to catch the bus to Maho and then walk the rest of the way. While waiting for the bus to arrive a taxi pulled up. While my father was discussing matters with the driver a couple from the US offered us a ride. Since the taxi would have only been able to take us after he dealt with another fare the couple’s offered seemed like the way to go.

It turned out that the couple was from New York. After a few minutes of conversation we learned that the male had actually likely worked on various construction projects (including the demolition of a Con Ed plant) just blocks away from where I used to live in New York.

Almost as soon as we arrived in the airport we passed through security. This process, unlike similar processes in the United States and Canada, was relatively painless. When I walked through the metal detector with my belt the guard allowed me to remove my belt and try again. In most parts of North America such an obvious problem would cause the passenger to be subjected to a full body cavity search. The other thing that was impressive was that the screeners were clearly capable of picking up offending items while also moving people through the process at about twice the speed. It also didn’t hurt that the staff were much more pleasant than their Canadian counterparts.

Once in the secure section of the airport my father and I walked around for a while. We checked out various duty free places and available restaurant options. Eventually we decided to buy iced teas a convenience store like shop. While this wasn’t the classiest facility, it didn’t seem to be as outrageously priced as some of the other options.

Once we finished our iced teas we continued our journey through the departures waiting area. Soon enough we came across the business lounge. A sign on the wall next to the door that the admittance fee was only $20 and that a range of foods, wine, and services were available. As we had at least two hours to kill until boarding time we decided to go for it and pay the entry fee.

Almost as soon as we entered the lounge it was clear that we had made the correct decision. My father immediately grabbed a few of the warm meaty snacks while I went for a few of the miniature baked goods. Both of us were also able to take advantage of the free beverage offerings. I had a number of cups of coffee, at least four, while my father, if I recall correctly, had something to drink. Eventually, we both switched to wine (I had some white while my father went for the red) and ended up having three glasses apiece before boarding the plane.

During our stay in the lounge we were also able to take advantage some of the other services. Both of us were able to sit in comfortable chairs with easy access to tables (something that was particularly important as beverages and food were on the scene). My father was able to use the public access internet terminal to take care of a few internet related matters while I was able to use the free wireless internet connection to do some email and other web type things.

Before boarding our plane we noticed that there was a 747 at the airport, the first we had seen in Sint Maarten. Immediately both of us thought about how exciting it would have been to see it land as well as to see the impending take-off.

Soon after we boarded the plane and then pulled away from the jet-way it became clear that we were likely to be delayed for some time. It seems that the 747 was in the line ahead of us and needed to take off from the ‘end’ of the runway, rather than the ‘beginning,’ as is done by most planes.

Not only did this change in protocol mean that the plane had to make it all the way up to the other end of the runway at a slow rate of speed, but also that a few approaching planes were allowed to land before the runway became occupied by the large plane’s trip down the runway.

Eventually the 747 took off and the new backlog of landing planes was cleared. 50 minutes after our scheduled departure we were finally able to make it into the air.

While still sitting on the runway my father, who was sitting across the aisle from me, started talking to the couple seated next to him. Due to my proximity to the conversation I was able to hear what my father was saying, and some of what the couple was saying. One thing that was immediately clear was that these people seemed to be a relatively friendly and talkative couple. It seems that the couple, who were from San Francisco, were on the island for a friend’s wedding. On and off throughout the flight my father spoke to these people about a variety of matters.

The couple sitting to my right were a very different matter. Almost as soon as they were seated they opened a variety of snacks and proceeded to chow down. The strange part about this was the way in which the seemingly picky female member of the couple went about this. Instead of deciding that she wasn’t interested in something, or that she was interested, she seemed to rip small pieces (or take small bites) of the food that was in the male’s hand. For some reason he seemed to be in charge of the food and all acquisitions made to suit his tastes. Eventually these roles were somewhat reversed when the drinks cart came around and the female seemed to be in charge of ordering and allocating quantities (the drinks were also kept on her tray).

Strangely, neither my father nor I was able to sleep on the flight. Actually, my lack of ability to sleep may have been caused by the iced tea and four or five cups of coffee that I had recently consumed. I don’t know what was working against my father. This lack of sleep meant that when the started showing the second movie that we both ended making the simultaneous, but unrelated, decision to watch it.

As I didn’t really have much else to do I can’t really say that I wasted time by watching the film, but I can say I wasn’t particularly impressed. It seems that the filmmakers were particularly taken with the use of green screens, or whatever that technology is properly called, instead of actually visiting a location or hiring stuntmen.

Soon after the end of the movie we started our descent into JFK. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to make up time, as had been suggested by the pilot, and instead ended up losing an additional twenty minutes by the time we reached the gate. I guess I should be clear that much of this time loss occurred while we were sitting on the tarmac waiting to approach a gate.

Eventually we were able to de-plane and head through immigration, or whichever branch of Homeland Security is taking care of that first stage of the process. Aside from a few circles on our declaration card there were no problems with this process and we were able to proceed to the baggage claim area.

After a wait of about an hour we finally were able to acquire our bags and head on to the next step of the customs/immigration process. At this step we again handed over our declaration card to an agent. Upon examining the various circles he noticed that we were supposedly bringing some kind of plant life into the country. He asked what it was we were bringing in. My father then pulled an apple, which happened to have been grown in the US, out of his pocket and handed it to the agent. After briefly inspecting the apple and setting it on a table the agent asked us if that was all we had. Once we informed him that that was it we were allowed to go on our way. Oddly, the apple made it into the country even though it was being dealt with as though it was a potential threat. It seems almost as though these things are considered threats only if you aren’t making money on them. We all know that huge quantities of produce are shipped into the US from foreign nations every day, including from various Caribbean islands.

Once we passed the final staged the customs/immigration charade we started to look for the baggage drop-off point. Though we were staying in New York for the night our bags were checked al the way through Montreal. Eventually we did find the location. Instead of it being like most places where one can just drop their bags, in this case there were airline agents and a line. Eventually it became clear that all kinds of people were trying to re-book flights at the drop-off location, and that in some cases the workers at the drop-off station were actually helping them.

After waiting a few minutes we were told that the station was closed and that we should go to the third floor. As this made absolutely no sense we just stayed where we were in line and continued to wait. Eventually, after several exhortations to move to the third floor, we finally were able to talk to make it clear that we just wanted to drop off our bags and be on our way. Not surprisingly, as it was a baggage drop-off point, they accepted our bags without further hassle.

We then had to figure out how to go from where we were to our hotel, which we both believed was in the airport. After examining various signs and information boards we eventually gathered that we had to make our way, via the AirTrain system, to Federal Circle. After encountering several misleading and conflicting signs we eventually made our way to the nearest train station. Fortunately the first stop was the one for us. We then had to make our way from the train section of the station to the airport shuttle section of the station (which seemed a little strange for an airport that was at the airport).

As we continued waiting for our shuttle it became apparent that we weren’t the only ones going to our hotel. Actually, most of the people that had been there a long time were going to our hotel. It seems that for some unexplained reason our hotel’s shuttle hadn’t come by in a very long time.

After a relatively long wait one woman who had a reservation at our hotel made her way over to some waiting buses to see if they could be persuaded to give us a ride, or if they might know how we could walk there. When she returned she had learned that walking wasn’t really a possibility, and they clearly hadn’t agreed to give her a ride.

As we were in the hotel shuttle area we weren’t near any taxis or other forms of transportation that could take us where we wanted to go. This was very frustrating as it was clear that our hotel shuttle was not operating on a regular schedule.

Eventually the woman who had investigated other options and the man with whom she was traveling decided to try to take a cab to the hotel. As much as I like the idea of getting there quickly I knew that this would mean heading back to the train, waiting for the train, riding the train, and then making my way to the taxi area to wait for a taxi before finally being on my way.

Eventually, after we had been waiting for about an hour, the hotel shuttle began to approach. As it neared the curb a mass of people, maybe half of those waiting, raced to the door. As soon as the door opened pushed their way aboard. Fortunately, due to a good location in the waiting area, and the fact that we weren’t slowed down by luggage, we were able to make it aboard the over crowded bus.

As the bus closed its doors and started to make its way towards the hotel a man started to chase the bus and try to get the driver to stop. Whether the driver did or did not see the man was unclear. What was clear was that my father asked the driver to stop and he did not.

At about this time the shuttle started to make its first turn on the journey back to the hotel. As soon as the shuttle entered these turns it became even more apparent that the bus was overloaded. The floor began to twist and buckle with the first turn as we as with each subsequent turn. As the ride progressed I became very worried that the bus was just going to fall apart on the way to the hotel. Feeling the floor twist below one’s feet is certainly not pleasant and does not make for a relaxing journey.

Fortunately the ride was short, only about four minutes. This actually caused us further confusion as to the cause of the delay and why the online description suggested that the hotel was located in the airport.

Even though it was after midnight there was a long check-in line in the lobby of the hotel. The people from the shuttle managed to make the line seem monstrous. As neither my father nor I were particularly pleased with the situation my father thought he might try calling the company through which we booked are room.

Moments after he left me to wait in line while he made the phone call the couple that had left the shuttle area to find a taxi arrived. It seems that once they made it back to the taxi area they couldn’t immediately find a driver that knew how to get to our hotel. When they finally did get a cab the driver made a wrong turn, delaying them again.

Eventually my father returned from his phone call and reported that he had not been able to make any progress. He then suggested that he head to the hotel bar to pick up a few beers for us to have while we continued to wait in the live.

Within a few minutes of his return we were able to sign in and head up to our room. As we left the elevator and started to head down the hall to our room we noticed that the room doors were very near each other, much closer than one would want.

As expected the room was quite small, basically just big enough for two beds and two dressers. The bathroom was also quite compact. In both cases the facilities were large enough for what we needed, but certainly not luxurious.

Shortly after stashing our things we returned to the main floor to visit the hotel bar for another beer. This time we sat at the bar to drink. Something that was quite strange about the bar was that it was recessed, meaning the bar tender’s head was close to level with ours, though we were seated on regular height chairs. Though the bar didn’t sell any food and the restaurant and kitchen were closed my father was able to rustle up some food. He found a wine decanter full of bar snacks that he then proceeded to eat rather quickly. I had a chocolate bar and pouch of crackers when returned to our room.

Unfortunately, the delays and subsequent trip to the bar meant that we only had enough time for about 4 hours of sleep before we needed to head back to the airport to catch our flight to Montreal.

Sint Maarten: Day 15

My father and I, due to the impending arrival of another visiting faculty member who is to occupy our apartment for the next couple of weeks, had to share bedroom facilities last night. Fortunately, the room and bed are both quite large.

At about 4:00 AM we were both awoken by a loud noise. At first neither of us could figure out what was going on and where the noise was coming from. Eventually I realized that it was coming from the window next to my side of the bed.

I lifted up the blinds to see a young guy (presumably a student) pounding on our window. Once he noticed that we were aware of his presence he demanded that we open our door. Not surprisingly neither of us were all that inclined to do this. Somehow he motioned that we should meet him at the door. Once there my father was still disinclined to let him in, even though he continued to insist that we should.

Presumably this was just an incredibly drunk student who ended up at the wrong apartment and assumed it was his own. Hopefully this escapade didn’t play out again at the correct apartment. I can’t imagine that such an event would please a roommate greatly.

We eventually woke for the day at about 8:30. Our first order of the day was breakfast. We then made our way over to Mullet Beach for some morning snorkeling. The hope was that by going in the morning the water would be clearer than it had been during our recent afternoon visits.

Almost as soon as we arrived at Mullet Beach I had the sense that the water was likely on the cloudy side (though we could see some rocks). My father suggested that I go in and head all the way out to the headland to see if things were better out there. I would then give him the signal as to whether it would be worth his while to come in.

Two things that weren’t all that surprising then occurred. Firstly, I immediately noticed that the water lacked the desired clarity. It may have actually been cloudier (or more filled with sand and particulate matter) than during any of our earlier visits. Secondly, my father did not wait for me to give him the clear sign. Instead, basically as I was floating to put on my flippers he came in. Fortunately, I was able to get him to turn back before he made it all the way out to the headland area. As we were both heading in we realized that it was actually quite a dangerous location for snorkeling and swimming because one could be dashed on rocks that were previously unseen.

Once we were nicely de-sanitized and full salinized we made our way over to the grocery store to pick up a few last minute items. I was finally able to buy a few bars of Lifebuoy soap for a friend in St. John’s, and we also were able to buy a new box of garbage bags for the apartment. We then continued our journey to try and find a car wash and car vacuum cleaner. The latter of these to items was relatively easy to find, the former was quite challenging. We eventually gave up on the search and decided to just head to a place on the French side of the island that we knew had such a service

We returned to the apartment, where we both showered and cleaned up before heading back on the road. Soon enough we were back on the road and heading towards Marigot.

As we were near Baie Rouge my father spotted and iguana like lizard and asked if I had seen it. As I hadn’t seen it he suggested that we could go back to see it. This seemed as though this likely wouldn’t be worth our while, as lizards don’t have a tendency to hang around. He then informed me that the lizard was dead, so he was pretty sure that it would be there when we went back.

Two vehicles ran over the lizard just as we were approaching it. One squished the guts out while the other crushed the animal’s head. This meant that by the time I good a good look the carcass was a fair bit flatter and less lizard like than when my father had spotted it just a minute or so before.

Once we made it to the outskirts of Marigot we immediately found the car wash. We then observed that they also had vacuum cleaners. Soon enough our car was being cleaned by the Karcher brand automatic car wash. The most amazing thing about the process, aside from the lack of a building to house the machine, was how little water was used. The entire process likely only took a few litres of water. The air drying apparatus at the end of the wash was also quite neat. Sensors allowed the blower to follow the profile of the car instead of just blowing in the direction of the car.

We next moved over to the vacuum cleaner. I removed the mats while my father went in to get a token. I then stationed myself on one side of the car while he stationed himself on the other. We then proceeded to hand the wand back and forth to maximize the use of our limited sucking time. Though we didn’t have quite as much time as we could have used, we did make pretty good progress, certainly enough that the car won’t be an embarrassment when we transfer it to the next user.

Though unplanned, I ended up driving the car back to the Dutch side of the island and then all the way over to Simpson Bay. Once in Simpson Bay we made a few more last minute grocery store purchases. I was also able to get a coffee. While ordering my coffee in the McDonald’s (one of the few places that I have seen that offers take-out coffee) I noticed that they also sold beer (Heineken and Presidente). This is almost enough to make me want to go back and get a meal and a beer. The motivation is even greater because I wasn’t able to do so while in Paris thirteen years ago.

Once back in the apartment we had lunch, which killed off a fair bit of our remaining food. After lunch my father went back to work on his test questions while I proceeded to start dealing myself games of solitaire. All in all, it wasn’t a particularly successful series of solitaire games. Much to my surprise, my hours of recent playing time don’t really seem to have improved my skill level.

At about 3:30 we left the apartment to pick up the incoming visiting professor. We hoped to be able to get a video clip of the plane as it landed. Unfortunately, just about a block away from the university we saw a plane approaching the runway. By the time we reached the runway it was pretty clear that that was the plane we were hoping to see.

Though we arrived at the airport after the plane landed we were in the arrivals area long before the person we were picking up emerged. As soon as she did emerge we were able to head out to the car and head home.

After we spent a few minutes catching up (with particular emphasis on what my father had already taught the class) we, along with another visiting professor, made our way over to a restaurant for dinner. We had been invited to dinner by the chair of the physiology department.

The restaurant was built or floating on the lagoon. We were seated in a section of the restaurant that was quite far out into the lagoon.

Though the restaurant seemed to try to push the lobster, 60% of us went for the mahi-mahi. The newly arrived professor went for shrimp and the department chair went for filet mignon. In retrospect if I had known how large the filet mignon would be I would have chosen that instead of the fish (not to suggest that I wasn’t pleased with my selection).

Soon after we stopped eating we noticed that some fish were swimming around in water just behind where we were seated. Very quickly a very large (about four feet long) fish was spotted. This encouraged a little more attention to be paid to the section of water that was illuminated by the restaurant’s lighting system. For the most part we saw only minnow sized fish.

In the next few minutes a few more sightings of the same fish, or others of comparable size were made. Eventually, just as we were about to leave, my father spotted a large fish. He is quite sure that it was a shark, and though I didn’t get as clear a view, I do think that this is conceivable.

On our way back to the university we stopped at the grocery store so that the two visiting professors with whom we were traveling could pick up some groceries. While in the store I broke down and purchased a pouch of Red Man. For years, maybe since my first viewing of The Sandlot, I have wanted to try this stuff, though have never been inclined to pay full Newfoundland prices ($13.00) as I can’t imagine that it will do any thing for me except make me sick (and maybe a little light headed).

Once the shopping had been paid for and bagged my father retrieved the car from the underground parking lot behind the store. We then folded down the back seat of the car and loaded the groceries into the trunk. Unfortunately, about two bags didn’t quite fit, so they were then left in the back seat with our two passengers.

After we returned to the apartment my father and I started to pack while the new inhabitant started to put away her groceries and arrange the kitchen to her liking. Soon enough my father and I finished packing. Not surprisingly, he went back to question writing while I did some reading.

Eventually all three of us (meaning those staying in the apartment) headed off to bed. I know that I was asleep before my father, but I have no idea by what margin.

Sint Maarten: Day 14

My father woke me up on the early side, allowing us to have breakfast together before he went to school to give his last lecture. Fortunately, he had completed the lecture early enough not to have to submit it to the printing service at 7:30 AM (as had been required several times this week).

After breakfast, my father and I made our way over to the university. Our first stop was the combination bookstore (without books) and registrar’s office. Within just a few moments of arriving we were able to successfully accomplish the goal of our mission. We then moved up to my father’s office so that I could take a few photos of him in his office. Afterwards I took a few more photos of the main building and founder’s statue.

After the impromtu photo shoot I stopped by the library to pick up a tropical fish identification book Wendy had agreed to loan us and to donate some books to the recreational reading section of the library. I decided that I might as well leave my books here for people without access to a proper public library or bookstore as opposed to carrying them home just to have them on my shelf for the next number of years.

Unfortunately, my grand plans as they related to the library were unsuccessful because Wendy had not yet arrived for the day. I then returned to my father’s office and left my donations with him. He agreed to head back to the library after he finished his lecture and take care of the tasks I had been unable to complete.

Soon after I returned to the apartment I moved on to my typical morning activities. These are mainly related to checking email and various things online, nothing all that important or consequential.

Eventually, at about 11:00 AM I received a call from my father indicating that I should expect the some members of the cleaning staff in the very near future. They would be arriving to clean the sunnier of the two rooms for the other MUN professor that will be teaching her as of next week.

I ran out to start a load of laundry before the cleaners arrived. Soon after I returned the first cleaner arrived. After looking around the apartment I tried to explain that she did not need to clean both bedroom, but only the one that had been emptied out. Eventually, after much explaining she finally grasped what I was talking about (it was almost like the cartoon light bulb).

Within a few minutes of the arrival of the first cleaner a second cleaner came. Almost as soon as she came in she started to recount a story about someone being taken away by the police and some additional interaction with the police. None of this really made sense and they ended up leaving the apartment together before I was able to figure out what was going on.

Once they returned I continued dealing and re-dealing games of solitaire. As unexciting as this was I really didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t really want to be in their way while they were cleaning, and I doubt they wanted me there, but I also needed to wait for the laundry to finish and I also needed to be near the apartment so that my father and I could get on with our afternoon plans once he was free with his academic obligations.

At the usual hour, or maybe even a little earlier than normal, I received a call from my father. He was calling to let me know that he would be heading back to the apartment for lunch and an afternoon outing. Almost as soon as he entered the apartment and saw the extent of the cleaning operation he realized something that had already come to me, and that was that it was probably appropriate to go somewhere else for lunch.

This change in plans wasn’t really all that problematic. Instead of eating lunch in the apartment we decided that we would take the bus to Philipsbug, as we had previously discussed, and then get lunch once we arrived.

Like the time I went to Philipsburg to see the library, we drove to Maho to catch the bus. This time, unlike the last time, we had to find a place to ditch the car for the day. We decided on the parking lot by the Sunset Beach Bar as they seem to always have available spaces for free (though this was likely an abuse of the privelege).

Soon after we made our way back to the bus stop we were picked up by one of the local buses (a van with four rows of seats). As we got closer to Philipsburg the bus began to fill up. Soon enough all of the available seats were taken, including some neat fold out seats and the two spots in the front to the driver’s right.

Almost as soon as the bus filled up it started to empty out. A number of people left once we reached the outskirts of Philipsburg. Everyone had left, except us, by the time we arrived at the center of Philipsburg. Soon after we caught a glimpse of the harbour we asked the driver to stop and hopped out.

Upon reaching the beach that surrounds much of the harbour shoreline we noticed that we were still a ways away from the core of the shopping district. Fortunately, this wasn’t a particularly difficult journey and only involved walking along the beach until we reached the action. The only problem was that the place I was thinking about for lunch was at the far end of the beach and commercial district, meaning almost as long a walk as possible.

Without any problems we made our way to the same place I had eaten lunch with Wendy, the university librarian, on Wednesday. As soon as we arrived signs of Canadian ownership popped out. Somehow I had managed to miss the ‘eh’s and maple leaves the last time I was there ( I guess I just wasn’t looking).

We each ordered a (kid sized) Heinken, a burger, and fries. As usual, I had to go great lengths to explain that I didn’t want anything on my burger, just the bread and the meat. Shortly after we had each taken a trip to the bathroom our burgers arrived, followed a few minutes later by our fries.

Once we wrapped up our meal we made our way to the central shopping district in search of ‘deals’ and appropriate purchases. Sadly, we found very few deals and even fewer worthwhile purchases. We ended up leaving the area with many few items than we had intended to buy.

Soon enough we were back on the bus. Like the first trip, things soon filled up, and then ended up clearing out so that we were the only passengers. This time we called for the bus to stop at an appropriate location (unlike on our trip out).

As we were making the short walk back our car we noticed that the big Air France plane was taking off. As this would likely be one of our last chances to see the ‘jet blast’ phenomenon we decided to try and get a little closer to film it. Following my father’s lead I took up a position across the street from the end of the runway. While in the position selected by my father I realized that we were right behind some of the engines, not safely to the side as we had discussed. Once I made this clear we both took a few superficial measures to move out of the way (in reality we just moved about ten feet towards the edge of the runway).

The revving of the engines alerted us to the impending rush of air and sand. As I had experienced before, standing behind a jet at this location means being pelted by sand and whatever other debris is at the end of the runway. Fortunately, experience had taught me to stand with my camera side on to the blast, rather than taking it head on.

As the jet made its way down the runway and the rush of air lessened we were able to examine ourselves and see what the jet had done to us. Fortunately neither of us was in any way injured or damaged. On the other hand, both of us were covered from head to toe with sand. Unlike having sand just thrown on you, this sand has been blasted at you by jet engines and has a much greater tendency to hang around much longer than is pleasant. For hours afterwards I was able to find grains of sand in my hair on the side of my head that received the brunt of the blast.

On our way back to the university my father remembered that he wanted to check out the nearby private school. I thought our chances of finding someone to talk to on a Friday afternoon were slim. As it turned out I was wrong. We ran into the principal (just as she was about to head to the pool) in the main office area. She was able to give us a pretty good rundown on the school on the spot.

Soon after we made it back to the apartment my father returned to school to try and wrap up his final academic obligation. While he worked away I engaged myself in email checking and web surfing (some of which was in relation to a project that I was working on for my father).

Eventually, my father returned to the apartment and set up shop in the newly cleaned bedroom. While he continued to work I started preparing dinner. As usual, we had meat, two vegetables, and yucca root. Unfortunately, as soon as I poured the yucca root into the frying pan to brown it I could tell that it wasn’t quite right, it seemed a little harder than ideal. The browning process didn’t prove to assist in changing the texture, not that I really thought that it would (though I certainly hoped it would).

It should also be noted that this meal marked the end of my father’s membership in the ‘Clean Plate Club.’ He was unable, or unwilling, to eat about two and a half pieces of the poorly prepared yucca root.

My father spent much of the rest of the evening working away while divided my time between the works of Mr. Waugh and my continued adherence to the siren call of my laptop.

Sint Maarten: Day 13

Again I woke up much earlier than I would have expected considering that I did not set an alarm or have any particularly important plans. Soon after I awoke, and just after I had managed to log a little time online my father returned from work. We were then able to have breakfast together before he went back to work to quickly refresh his thoughts on his upcoming lecture.

As my father was preparing to leave, and for some time thereafter, I continued with the various computer based tasks I had been working on before his arrival. Not surprisingly, yesterday’s post was one of these activities.

Soon after I finished eating lunch (and logging a few more solitaire games) my father called to try and figure out what we were going to do in the afternoon. It seemed that the two best options would be to either rent vespas and drive around the island or to take advantage of the big waves at Mullet Beach and go body surfing (or dinking around in the surf).

Though I was willing to go either way, my moderate preference was the wave action. Eventually we settled in trying to rent the scooters first and then possibly hit the beach (as we would have 24 hours on the scooters). As it turned out, the rental location didn’t have what we wanted and didn’t seem all that interested in reserving machines for us for the next day.

My father, for reasons unbeknownst to me, then decided to head to Philipsburg. Why he wanted to do this is beyond me. Not only do we know that there is next to no parking there, we had previously decided to go there by bus to avoid this problem. Not surprisingly, once we arrived we were unable to find a suitable parking spot so we turned around and made our way back to our apartment. In some ways it is unfortunate that we weren’t successful because it now means that we will have to head back by bus.

After a little bit of time in the apartment we finally gather our things and headed to be the beach. By the time we got to Mullet Beach it was clear that there had been some very substantial wave action earlier in the day. The entirety of the sand in some areas had clearly been covered in water. This is 20 or 30 feet further than the waves normally reach.

Though we clearly weren’t there for the peak wave activity, there were still some substantial waves. In some cases the waves were about as tall as I am, though most were a little shorter. In some cases, though not all, some of these were pretty powerful.

On seeing the size of the waves my father thought that he was a little tired to go in so he decided to just stay on the beach. In some ways this was good for me as he could scout locations and direct me towards bigger waves.

After were had been there a short while an older couple approached the same section of the beach. Once they had conducted a thorough examination they settled on a location for their items and settled in. Much to my surprise I saw the old guy just a few feet down from me soon after they had arranged their things. At first I thought that he might swim past the waves and just go for a swim. It turned out that he was going to do the same thing that I was.

After the first wave or two I think he realized that it was a bit more trying that he expected. After a short break he came back to continue to be pounded by waves. According to my father, who had a better view, the guy was having a great time.

Once the salt started to burn my eyes I decided to get out of the water. My father and I then headed down the beach towards the two beach bars. As we were heading down we saw that at the very end of the beach there were a few surfers catching waves. As this was a slight change of scenery, we decided to take a seat at an empty picnic table and watch some of the action. The only problem with this was that unlike on TV and in the movies, these guys were not able to catch each wave. Instead, they were only able to catch the largest of the waves (which were very infrequent).

Shortly after we returned home we decided to go out for dinner rather than cook the pork chops that we had previously purchased. Not surprisingly the only place we even discussed going was Cheri’s Café.

Before heading to the restaurant we decided to film me driving on a roundabout. We had previously scouted a relatively sparsely visited roundabout near our apartment that would be good for our purposes. Of course as I prepared to enter the roundabout all kinds of traffic appeared from all conceivable directions. The situation was further worsened by the presence of a dog that seemed to be right in my way but not hampering the progress of other drivers.

Eventually things cleared out and we were able to get a good shot of my entering the intersection and then getting ‘stuck’ and doing a few circles of the center before finally managing to exit the intersection (of course in the same direction from which I entered the intersection). As I was in the driver’s seat I ended up driving all the way to Maho and then over to the parking area by the Sunset Beach Bar.

Upon approaching the restaurant it became clear that the bartender was working quite aggressively to get people to eat and drink at the bar. For some reason that we were unable to understand, the bartender was also really pushing the shrimp and steak and lobster and steak options. Instead of sitting at the bar, where conversation would be more difficult, we opted for a two person table near the bar.

Once we were seated we quickly noticed that only a fraction of the number of waiters were working as had been working the last two times we dined there. Amazingly, it seemed that this reduced staffing level fit the number of customers. We still aren’t quite sure how they were able to determine, in advance, that it was to be a slow night.

As consistently as basmati rice is white so is my father’s order ‘Stir-fry shrimp’ with rice at Cheri’s Cafe. I on the other hand mixed things up a little by going with a rack of baby back ribs with no sauce and fries. Again both of us were pleased with the quality and size of our meals.

We paid and prepared to leave just as the house band was preparing for its evening show. Just as we were walking down the steps of the restaurant the first notes of the show could be heard. Clearly our timing was much better than normal.

As my father didn’t have to go back to work we were able to just hang out in the apartment for the evening. At one point we finished a game of rummy that we started a few days earlier. We also booked an airport hotel for the night that we have to spend in the vicinity of JFK. Our understanding is that our hotel is actually on the premises of the airport, which should be quite convenient (assuming it is in the same terminal from which we will be departing).

Eventually, after a few beers, we were able to head to bed. Though this wasn’t quite as early a turn in time as some of the previous nights, it was still well before midnight.

Sint Maarten: Day 12

Just before he left for the morning, my father made sure that I was up. This meant that I awoke about a half hour earlier than has been typical these days. The reason for the early rising was that I was to meet the university librarian and we were then going to go to Philipsburg to see the local public library. Not surprisingly, rising at this early hour allowed me plenty of preparation time, much more than I actually needed. So after completing all of the essential tasks, such as eating and cleaning, I was able to deal myself a few games of solitaire to kill the time.

Soon after I entered the university building and happened to see my father in the main office. I popped in to say ‘hello.’ As he was on his way out we were able talk while we walked the short distance to the library. During this time he was able to tell me about a book that he found that was really helping him make some progress on some of his remaining lectures.

Upon entering the library I was greeted by the librarian, Wendy, and her husband, Bobby-Ray. Bobby-Ray gave us a lift to Maho so that we would have to spend less time waiting for a bus. Soon after we were dropped off a bus picked us up and we were on our way. I should explain that when I say bus in this context I really mean ‘full-sized van driven by its owner that is operating kind of like a bus, but with routes that are much more flexible.’

The bus dropped us off just a short walk from the library, which we completed successfully. As we approached the library I was a little confused about what exactly it was we were approaching. The section of my building to my right was quite clearly part of the library, but the part of the building on my left appeared to be some kind of garage for large trucks, or something that would require huge garage doors.

As I approached the building things became much clearer. Instead of walls, much of the library was bounded by garage doors, which would be raised and lowered as desired. During our visit I saw that they opened many of these doors to allow a breeze and general air circulation rather than using a formal air conditioning system. One consequential result is that a huge amount of dust is let in, permeating most of the books.

We started our examination of the library in the room that housed the reference collection. It immediately became apparent that not only did they shelve the Dutch and English book together, but that they some pretty specialized reference sources, which was surprising for a public library in such an out of the way place. Upon closer examination I am now of the impression that some of the more specialized sources must have been acquired through donations or other low cost sources. In many cases only very spotty runs of annual publications were held, frequently with the most recent year or two not available. One might generally describe the reference collection as broad, but well aged.

It should be noted that there was a fairly large Caribbean-specific reference collection. While many of the materials were on the old side, I wouldn’t be surprised if many of them had not been since their original publication. This could definitely be useful if you were in Sint Maarten and conducting research on the surrounding islands and peoples.

In the reference room there were also several public access internet terminals. When talking to the library staff person we learned that one or two were out of order. We also learned that the person with whom we had been hoping to meet was also not present and wouldn’t be until the afternoon, and it definitely wasn’t yet the afternoon.

We proceeded to examine (in a friendly, inquisitive way) the rest of the library. The rest of the collections were quite similar to the reference collection, broad, but a little out of date. One might have also questioned the relevance of some of the materials to members of the general public. I suspect that many of these more questionable materials (only from a cost sense) were likely donated. Unfortunately, many of these donated items are now well out of date and could likely be weeded without much harm to the collection. Wendy’s thought was that such an action would then leave the shelves looking rather bare.

On the subject of bare shelves, this library had more free shelf space than just about any other library I have seen. Most shelves had some space at the end so that nothing was too tight. If I recall correctly, most of the bottom shelves may have been empty (but this may have been to protect the books because of regular flooding during hurricane season).

After our examination of the library we went for lunch. On our way to the restaurant Wendy showed me a few places that one might be gifts. One store, also the largest bookstore, sold things from the Netherlands (as we are in the Netherlands Antilles) as well as the typical tourist junk. This store also sold Heinekens from a cooler for $1. We were also able visit a tablecloth/linen store. While they had quite a large selection, it is likely that none of it was made in Sint Maarten, or anywhere near the island.

As we continued on our way to the restaurant we spotted a cruise ship at the terminal. Wendy explained why the Dutch side of the island is such a popular cruise ship destination. It seems that when originally trying to attract cruise ships to the island the government offered free waste disposal services to any cruise ship that called at Sint Maarten. The result is that not many, if not most, Caribbean cruise ships stop here to take advantage of the deal (rather than because it is such a great place for tourists).

We then reached the restaurant, which was relatively empty because it was still on the early side for lunch. Upon arriving we made our way to the bar to order. As the employee (likely the owner) was taking the order of the group in front of us I noticed that they sold a single Canadian beer. I then commented to Wendy that it was one of the worst Canadian beers, but that it seems to be the only one that I see overseas. As I was finishing up my explanation I heard the preceding group ask the woman where she was from. Not surprisingly, she answered ‘Ontario,’ thus explaining the presence of a Canadian beer. Of course I then felt like a bit of an ass as I they had probably brought this beer in to remind themselves of home (or capture the ex-pat crowd), but I still stand by my belief that it isn’t the greatest of beers, and not even close to the best beer made by that brewery.

Soon after embarrassing myself it was our turn to order. We both ordered burgers and Caribs. I didn’t bring attention to the fact that I too was from Canada, or more specifically, Newfoundland. I have found in the past that such conversations become very awkward very quickly, particularly when, after about 12 seconds, it becomes clear that you have nothing in common beyond the same citizenship (and a propensity to say ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ more than is necessary).

Due to our early arrival our food took a while to arrive (this likelihood had been explained to us before we ordered). We were able to sit and chat about a variety of matters while waiting for our food. The conversation was quite pleasant.

Eventually our food arrived and we started to eat. I ended up eventually ordering some fries to go with my burger (as well as another Carib). Each time I had any interactions with the staff they all seemed stereotypically Canadian, much politer than one would expect at what was basically a beach bar.

After lunch we made our way back to Back Street, where we caught a bus back to the university. The driver was kind enough to go a little out of his way and drop us off at the university’s driveway rather than at the normal stop about a block further away.

Once I returned to the apartment I found my father eating lunch. We then discussed what we might do in the afternoon. Eventually snorkeling was settled upon as the desired activity. We decided to try an area with three beaches and move from one to the next until we found a place with clear water.

Unfortunately, when we reached the first beach, Long Bay, we realized that we had forgotten to buy sunscreen along the way. Once we reached the water we realized that with the wind and waves as they were the water was likely a little riled up and probably not a good location for snorkeling. We then moved onto Plum Bay, which looked a fair bit better. Fortunately, just as we were leaving, we ran into a couple that had just been snorkeling and had found the water to be a bit murkier than they would have liked. We again set on our way, this time to Red Bay (or Baie Rouge).

As we entered the parking area at Baie Rouge a teenage boy directed us to a parking spot. As we exited the same boy asked us if we were interested in chairs and umbrellas. He also tried to encourage us to use a staircase different than the one we had intended to use. While following us to the beach he again asked us if we wanted chairs. Only after a third or fourth rejection did he seem to appreciate that we would not be renting chairs from Chez Raymond that afternoon.

The water at Baie Rouge was also a fair bit more riled than we were hoping. The waves were also much larger than any that we have seen elsewhere on the island. Since the last time we were there much of the beach had been sucked into the sea, leaving a sharp drop from the much smaller area with chairs to the area that was intermittently covered with surf and water. While this place look like a great deal of fun, it wasn’t quite appropriate for snorkeling so we moved on.

Our next stop, instead of a beach, was actually at a store. We hoped to buy some sunscreen. The prices at this particular store were on the outrageous side so we decided to head back to Maho and make our purchase at a store we knew wasn’t likely to rip us off.

After making our purchase we decided to give Mullet Beach a try, particularly as we were now on the Dutch side of the island. Not surprisingly this beach wasn’t all that different than the others, but in this case we actually had to go in the water to find out. After just a few minutes of unsuccessful snorkeling we decided to head in and re-group.

While on the shore we decided that since we were already wet we might as well try Maho beach, which is the beach located at the end of the runway. While this place doesn’t seem as though it would be that good, a student of my father’s said that she once saw both a sea turtle and a barracuda while snorkeling there.

As soon as we arrived it was clear that as at all of the other beaches, the waves were larger than usual. As the snorkeling is a fair ways out at this beach, we decided that I would be sent out to check thing and that my father would wait for my return. Once I was in the water I had the sense that things would be the same. Nonetheless, I did swim all the way out just in case there was some magical clear spot near the rocks. Not surprisingly as I approached the final location it was clear that the water was just as cloudy as it had been elsewhere.

I then started to swim back. As I was swimming back I intentionally decided not to wave or attempt to signal in anyway as I was pretty sure it could cause confusion. I was most worried about falsely signaling that I was in distress when I actually meant to signal to stay on shore. Somehow, even with my decision not to signal, my father pick up something that he thought was a signal indicating that he should come out. The frustrating thing was that I could see this happening but still was not in a position to effectively signal, especially once he had exchanged his glasses for the mask.

I was able to meet him relatively near the shore. We again returned to the shore and packed up our equipment. Instead of heading home, we decided to head to the Sunset Beach Bar on the other side of the beach.

Just as we were approaching the end of the beach we noticed that there was a photo being taken of a guy surrounded by about five well-endowed topless women. Many of the women then went back to the water to play in the surf while the forty-year-old guy in stripped Speedo-styled swimming attire stayed on the beach. It was a scene that didn’t, and still doesn’t, make that much sense to me.

Once we reached the bar and took a seat we again encountered the quality service for with the establishment is known. Eventually my father just went to the bar and ordered. After a relatively lengthy stay at the bar he returned with his iced tea and a rum punch for me.

I should explain that while I don’t normally drink rum, or any of the other hard liquors, I did feel it was appropriate to try one such drink while here, as rum is clearly the choice of the local population. I should say that I was pleasantly surprised. The rum punch was much more than just drinkable; I might even go so far as to say satisfying and tasty. The aspects of rum’s flavour that I normally dislike seem to have been masked by a range of juices and other flavours.

As we were sitting at the bar working on our drinks a family entered the establishment. At first only three members, the father, mother, and daughter, came in, they were soon joined by the youngest member of the family, a somewhat out of sorts son (of about twelve years of age). While the father and daughter were at the bar ordering drinks the sullen son was left sitting at the table with his prudish mother. As the kid was busy staring at his picnic table three of the topless women from the beach came in to order drinks. As this bar has a policy of free drinks for topless women they were drinking for free. While ordering they became engaged in a friendly conversation with a couple seated at the bar, thus significantly extending the duration of their stay in the bar area.

If this kid hadn’t been so intently staring at the table he would have seen these three topless women, which would have been a pretty cool sight for a twelve year-old. He would have had a great story when he returned to his friends in a few days time. His only other problem, which may actually have been part of the reason for great focus on the table, was that he was seated with his mother, who likely wouldn’t have been all that impressed with her young son checking out three topless women at the bar.

Soon after we finished our respective drinks we again returned the grocery store to pick up meat for dinner. I purchased two chicken breasts as they didn’t have reasonably priced steak and their pork chops were being sold only in packages of three.

Soon after we returned home my father took to the couch, where he soon drifted off. While he was in and out of sleep I worked on dinner. Again we had two vegetables, a starch component, and broiled meat. Again we had a colourful meal. This, like the previous meals we have cooked in the apartment was entirely consumed, allowing us to remain members of the Clean Plate Club, a group we have been members of since arriving.

Shortly after dinner, but after an attempted Skype call to my mother and sister, my father went back to work for a few hours. I stayed in the apartment to read. As the hour approached 8:30 I decided to hit the rack. As far as I know, I was asleep well before 9:00 and possibly even before 8:30.

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).

Sint Maarten: Day 10

For some reason, presumably his early departure, my father decided not to wake me before he left. It turned out that this wasn’t really all that problematic as I ended up waking up at about 8:00 AM on my own.

I spent much of the morning on computer related tasks, but was also able to throw in some eating and relaxing. While it was a less productive morning that I might have hoped, it certainly wasn’t unpleasant.

Shortly after I finished lunch I received a call from my father. We decided that it would be best to try and take a snorkeling tour that afternoon, rather than try to fit in later in our rapidly filling week. The advantage of this snorkeling tour is that those taking the tour get to pilot their own dinghies to the snorkeling site, which is an underwater wildlife reserve.

Upon learning that there were a few slots let we gather our snorkeling equipment and bathing costumes and set off for Simpson Bay. Fortunately, on our way there we didn’t encounter serious traffic and we were able to cross the drawbridge with no delays.

Once on-site we stashed our belongings, but on sun screen and sat to wait for instructions. Shortly, someone that could have been the owner came out and gave the basic safety run down and described hand signals that would be used during the trip.

Oliver (from France) and Ryan (from Guyana), our guides, then took over the presentation and explained where we would be going and what we would be seeing. Their presentation was peppered with a number of prepared jokes and humorous moments (the sort of which my father is particularly fond).

After the presentation we were able to board our boats, which while dinghies are configured more like jet skies. This means that directly behind the steering wheel is the only seat, which is shared by both individuals as if they were on a motorcycle. While this is likely part of the attraction for couples that take the tour, I would have preferred to have a seat back.

Soon enough we were off, but not before the company photographed us. We made our way through the lagoon and then under the drawbridge on the French side. Once we were in the Caribbean Sea we were able to go full speed while following one of the tour guides. At various places along the journey out we stopped and were shown things such as nude beaches and communities of interest (it also served as a way of letting stragglers catch up).

We reached our final destination after only about 35 minutes on the water, which is pretty remarkable as it was almost at the most northerly tip of the French side of the island (and we started in the south of the Dutch side). While traveling we were able to spot several flying fish as they bounced across the water.

Once everyone had been tied together and provided with beverages (of the non-alcoholic variety) we were encouraged to hit the snorkeling grounds. The only warnings and instructions were not to go aground, not to stand-up (or touch the corral), and to watch out for the sea urchins.

Once in the water it became apparent that the water was clearer than anywhere else we had yet been snorkeling. As we swam from the boats towards the shore it also became apparent that the density of fish was much greater here than anywhere else we had yet been snorkeling. Seemingly dozens of fish came into view almost simultaneously.

Not surprisingly, most of the fish, and other forms of wildlife, were to be seen while floating over the rocks by the shore. While many of the same types of fish that we had seen in other locations were common, there were also many new types of fish that we had not seen in either of the two other locations were we have gone snorkeling. Unfortunately, I am not familiar enough with the identification of tropical fish to list them all here. The few things that I was able to identify, and that I am glad that I saw, included a cuttlefish, something that resembled a juvenile swordfish, a brightly coloured eel, a conch, sea urchins with large spikes, corral, and a few sea anemones.

At one point there appeared to be a sedated feeding frenzy near the top of the water. Somehow I found myself in the middle of these fish and their food (I am not sure that I want to know what the ‘food’ was). It was really remarkable to have all of these fish swimming around me, acting as though I didn’t really exist.

At least I thought they didn’t think I existed. I am confident that a few minutes into this experience that one of them took a bite of my leg, or the leg hair attached to my leg. This freaked me out and caused me to decided to leave the center of the action.

After about 45 minutes of snorkeling we returned to our boats and prepared to head back. Within a few minutes we managed to change from our snorkeling gear back into our life jackets and sunglasses. And unlike most of the couples on the trip, my father and I switched positions on the seat, meaning that I would be in control of the boat on the way back. Actually, this has been a very noticeable trend when it comes to couples and transportation. In basically all two-person forms of transportation that we have seen, the male will be driving and the female will be in the back (or in the passenger seat).

Just before returning to the drawbridge, and as we were about to enter the no wake zone, one (progressive?) couple actually did switch positions (but presumably only when the male knew that the better part of the trip was over).

As the boats arrived they were tied to the dock and the tour members made their way to the waiting area next to the dock. Once we had all been gathered, the boss (the same guy that started the presentation before the tour began) explained that the pictures of us had been taken and could be purchased along with a ‘certificate of achievement.’ While the photo was pretty good neither of us was inclined to spend $15 to acquire it (though the certificate was tempting).

While some of the individuals on the tour stuck around for a beer afterwards, we started to make our way home. But before returning home we stopped at the grocery store to try and acquire the ingredients that we needed to attempt to re-create our meal of the night before.

Almost as soon as we returned home my father started preparing our meal. I, on the other hand, took a shower to remove any remaining traces of saltwater. Within a few minutes I too was working on the remaining elements of the meal (mainly the cutting of the green beans). Once fully cooked, the meal was basically as good as that of the previous night. The major improvement was the cutting of the cassava (yucca) into more uniform pieces so that they would cook more evenly.

Shortly after we finished eating my father went back to work to continue preparing lectures and writing test questions. I stayed in the apartment and did the dishes. Soon after I had finished the dishes I spent some time online before finally finishing the evening out by reading anecdotes about former SNL cast member Chris Farley.

Sint Maarten: Day 9

We awoke early this morning to have a quick breakfast before heading out to Orient Beach, where we hoped to get a lesson on how to sail a small catamaran.

As the sky looked a little clearer than it has for the past few days, we decided to stop by Pic Paradis on the way. While things were slightly more visible, Anguilla and the distant parts of the island weren’t as visible as we hoped. On this trip we also made our way a little further from the main look out, something that allowed us to see much of the land surrounding the lagoon as well as the Orient Beach area. The other notable feature of this trip was the number of lizards that we saw as we were walking out and back. Unlike previous trips we have taken on the island, we saw all kinds of different patterns and colorations within a short distance. Typically we see only one or two types of lizards on a given trip.

Once we reached Orient Beach we learned that the company from whom we had hoped to receive a lesson were book until the afternoon. We arranged to return for an appointment later in the day and left a deposit. The modified plan was to return for a lesson from 3:00 PM – 4:00 PM and sail by ourselves from 4:00 PM – 5:00 PM.

After we completed our booking obligations we started to make our way back to the university so that my father could put a few hours in on his lectures.

Somehow in Marigot we became slightly turned around and ended up taking a road we had not yet taken. This road went south from Marigot and spit us out between Simpson Bay and Philipsburg. As we were making our way from the new road to the road to our residence we had to take several backstreets. While driving down one of these streets we saw an iguana sized and styled lizards dart in front of our car and across the road. This confirmed for us that larger lizards do exist on the island, but just aren’t as prevalent as the much smaller ones.

On this trip we also ended up behind a large tour bus for a period of time. While this normally wouldn’t be too much of a problem, in this case the bus was so large it blocked our view of the road completely. Also, while we were climbing a steep hill the bus stalled, at first stopping, and then starting to roll down the hill towards us. While under many circumstances this would be an undesirable situation, but not one that was insurmountable, the presence of a van behind us added to the level of stress. It seems that the van didn’t understand that the bus was rolling back down the hill, forcing us to back up. The result was that we were stuck between two much larger vehicles, one that was somewhat out of control, and one that didn’t grasp the severity of the situation.

Once we finally made it back to Cupecoy and the university my father went into the university to work while I was tasked with acquiring food for lunch. I first made a trip to a newly opened store that is just up the hill from our apartment. The problem with this store, as I was to find out, is that much of the food is of the prepared variety, elevating the prices beyond what I was interested in paying.

This state of affairs meant that I would have to head into Maho to visit the larger grocery store. As I was planning on buying some beer and considering our schedule, this meant that I would be driving in. So for the first time outside of Canada or the US I put a key in the ignition and started the car.

One of the immediately noticeable features of driving in Sint Maarten is the frequency with which one encounters speed bumps, many of which are not clearly marked. As I have been a passenger in a car here this wasn’t too much of a problem.

The other feature that sets this island apart from much of North America is the use of the traffic circle, or roundabout. I was able to successfully negotiate one at the intersection in front of the grocery store. Though it seemed straightforward enough, I am sure adding traffic to the mix might leave me with a different impression.

The shopping trip was quick and painless. I was able to quickly locate everything that I planned on purchasing and return to the apartment in a few minutes. Much to my surprise, the trip back was as painless as the trip out, which is nice as driving isn’t my favourite activity.

Upon returning to the apartment I prepared myself one of the chicken breasts that I had just purchased. Once I had finished lunch I spent a little time on my computer.

Just before 2:00 PM my father returned from work to have lunch before our return journey to Orient Beach. This was a pleasant surprise as I expected to meet him about twenty minutes later at the car with sandwiches for him to eat along the way.

We were soon on the road again, making our way back to the other side of the island. It soon became clear that we were making good time and on course to arrive at the sailing place early. Soon after arriving at the beach we noticed that there were many more cars than when we left. People had started parking in just about any and all available places large enough to fit a car. As we were cruising through the first parking lot we were lucky enough to find the a proper parking spot near to the pathway to the beach.

Shortly after the car had been parked and our belongings appropriately accommodated, we started to walk down the beach towards the facility. Immediately it became apparent that the cars we had seen in the parking lot were associated with additional beach-goers. The place was much busier than we had seen it on either of our two earlier trips (both of which had been earlier in the day).

Once we reached the sailing facility we found a staff member to alert him of our presence. He was able to tell us that we would likely be a few minutes late because Yvon, our scheduled instructor, had started his last lesson several minutes late.

While waiting we, but mainly my father, spoke to the guy manning the facility while the other employees were giving lessons and supervising activities. He was from the Marseilles region and had spent a few months living in Sarnia and working at a Bank of Montreal branch to improve his English (which was pretty good). I get the sense that he was much more enamored with the local climate that that which he would have encountered in Sarnia. This guy, who’s name I don’t know, also told us that Yvon, from Breton, had only arrived from France two weeks ago.

Eventually, after several other arrivals and departures, Yvon showed up and we were ready to go. He took us to the boat and showed us the various key components. We then launched the boat, each of us hopping in from the water. Apparently my father had been able to hop in from water only knee keep while I hopped aboard from water that was up to my chest (this is not to suggest that I am more manly, but to show that the water became much deeper with the length of the boat).

Once we were on the water Yvon gave us directions as to how we should set the sails and how to perform different turns. While this process would have likely been marginally improved if his English had been better, I think we were both able to understand his instructions fairly clearly.

After a few practice turns and maneuvers we started just sailing around the bay. As we were heading towards the northern section of the beach we all heard a snap and then saw the jib fall into the ocean. Moments later, almost in slow motion, the mast began to fall from the center of the boat towards the back. As mast hit the water and frame of the boat it snapped out of the pin device holding it to the boat. While my father and I were wondering if we might be able to put the mast back up Yvon had located the broken part and realized that such a feat would be impossible. And though we didn’t know what he was doing at the time, he also tried to remove the sail from the mast so that it couldn’t catch the wind.

Within a few minutes of our mishap we managed to wave down a jet-ski rider and ask him to notify the company about our predicament. As much as I would like to think that he told someone, I really doubt it. Several minutes later another individual on a jet ski stopped by, clearly offering to let someone know. We could see this guy go to the right place and let Yvon’s co-worker know about our situation.

Shortly after the second jet ski stopped by we could see that one of the company’s inflatables was heading towards us. After a somewhat heated and abrupt exchange in French that was too fast for my father or I to catch, the boat returned to its original posting. Yvon then explained that he was unable to tow us as he was supervising a group of windsurfers (who were pretty far away from land). He also explained that another boat would be sent to assist us.

A few minutes later the second boat arrived, and the first boat returned. The three company employees seemed to be discussing what happened and what should have been done given the situation. The guy in charge of the first boat, and the one that seemed to be senior, seemed to be displeased that Yvon hadn’t taken in the sail and done a better job of arranging things. The three of us on the catamaran then tried to remove the sail from the mast and had about as much luck as Yvon had had previously by himself. It was pretty clear that the sail wasn’t going to go anywhere while we were still at sea.

The first boat again departed while the second boat was arranging a towline with Yvon. We were then transferred to the inflatable while Yvon stayed on the catamaran to ensure that the mast and sail weren’t blown into the water. When we started heading back to shore Yvon was on the sail, a position that soon displayed its weakness as wind caught the sail and toyed with Yvon. We stopped and allowed Yvon to insert himself under the sail at the front of the craft.

The two problems, both relatively minor, of the towing were that the mast was not attached to the boat and was dragging, requiring Yvon to hold the mast in place for the duration of the trip, and that the dual rudders had been pushed to an extreme position by the fallen mast.

Soon enough we were back at the beach. My father and I hopped out of the inflatable and made our way over to help Yvon beach the disabled boat. This time both of us were chest high in water as we pulled the boat ashore. Once ashore the three of us pulled the boat onto the beach so that it would be out of the way and unable to drift out.

Shortly after we had returned ashore we made our way back to the building to collect our belongings and return our life jackets. While there we arranged to go out again (for no additional charge) on Tuesday at 3:30. Hopefully we won’t have a similar problem the next time we go out (but it should be noted that two out of the four times my father has been in sailboats using wind power the masts have gone down, so we have a good chance of having another such mishap).

As we walked back to our car it was quite nice to realize that we had had a seawater experience and managed not to have sand in every available location on our body. In particular, not having sand in my hair and ears was quite nice, giving me a new appreciation of why people might engage in wind related activities rather than surf related activities.

While making our way back home we decided to stop at a store on the French side to pick up some ‘Beurre de France,’ which we had been told is more flavourful than typical butter. Though the store had only a few varieties of French butter it did take us some number of minutes to make our selection (the main determinants of which were salt content and price).

We also stopped at a grocery store on the Dutch side to pick up some steak for dinner. While in the grocery store I happened to see that they sold yucca root (also know as cassava). We decided to buy a piece as we had both had a positive reaction to it when we had consumed it a few nights ago.

Soon after we returned home my father went online to find out how to cook yucca root. Once he found a relatively simple recipe that basically involved boiling and then seasoning I started to prepare dinner. The most laborious and time-consuming aspect of which was the peeling, chopping, and boiling of the yucca root (which should suggest that it wasn’t a particularly trying meal). While I was taking care of the food my father was working on some laundry.

Just as my father was transferring the laundry from the washer to the drier I was serving our food. Moments after I finished this process he returned and we were able to eat.

Again, as we had carrots and green beans to accompany our yucca root and steaks, my grandmother would have been pleased with the variety of colours on our plates. To our pleasant surprise the yucca root turned out quite well. When we have it again the only modification to my preparation will be to ensure a more uniform size of the pieces before they are boiled.

After a brief stint on our balcony we went both went to bed well before 10:00 PM, and possibly even before 9:00 PM (something I don’t know as I don’t have a clock in my room). It seems being adrift in the Caribbean Sea for a half hour really tired us out.

Sint Maarten: Day 8

We arose early this morning with hopes of renting scooters on which we would travel around the edge of the island. Once we were finally able to find such a business that was actually open we learned that they would be closing early as it was a Saturday and would not be open on Sunday, making rental impractical at the current juncture.

As we had gone deep into the French section of the island to find the business we decided to just carry on around the island in the car. Though we generally took a pretty direct route, we did stop in places such as Columbier and Cul-de-sac. Once we reached Orient beach we parked the car and made our way down the beach on foot. It soon became clear that this was really the popular beach, with lounge chairs and water related activities all over the place.

Eventually, after walking for some time we happened to spot a Newfoundland flag on one of the beach bars. Though we approached the bar, we decided that we would stop by on our way back and try to figure out what the story was.

Shortly after leaving the bar with the flag we came to a gap in the beach. After the gap was where the nude section of the beach started. As both of us were fully clothed with shoes on we didn’t think that our presence would be appreciated, so we turned around and made our way back down the beach.

When we reached the bar with the Newfoundland flag we walked up the stairs and saw the guy that seemed to be in charge. My father asked if he had been stationed in Newfoundland. It seems that not only had he been stationed there in the 1950s but that he also had a daughter there. Upon finding out that we were from Newfoundland he invited us to sit with him and provided some (real) iced tea on the house.

After speaking with him for a while it became clear that when he left almost fifty years ago he had no idea that he had a daughter. Only about 7 years ago the daughter managed to find him and establish contact. It seems that since then she has been down here to visit him several times.

It is likely that when we next go back to Orient Beach we will try to stop at this bar/restaurant for lunch.

We then made our way to Oyster Pond, which is a marina area just down from Orient Beach. Unfortunately, new developments have made it very difficult for non-timesharers/resort types to access the water. The adjacent beach has been completely surrounded by a new resort development, though is apparently accessible if you are willing to walk through the hotel lobby to the beach.

Upon returning to the Dutch side we decided to try to stop at the post office to mail a few postcards. Unfortunately, the facility was closed and did not have a sign indicating when it would again be open.

We decided to stop for lunch at the Sunset Beach Bar, the bar at the end of the runway. The idea was that we could do a little plane watching while we ate. Once there we found that all of the tables in the shade had been taken, so my father asked if we could share a large picnic table with the woman that was sitting there.

Within a few minutes of our arrival the woman at the table and her husband, who was sitting at an adjacent counter, were joined by another couple. It soon became clear that the newly arrived couple were just stopping by for lunch before their impending departure.

Eventually, though not without some effort and delay, my father and I and the newly arrived couple were able to order both drinks and food. Unfortunately, due to various timing issues we ended up ordering well after the couple.

When the man’s food arrived most of us were a little surprised to see a can sitting next to his steak sandwich. When asked, he explained that instead of fries, he had gone with the baked bean option. The man then removed the lid from the can of beans and began eating.

My father was so taken with the can of beans that he asked if we could take a picture. This comment brought us into the conversation with the two couples, one of which was from North Carolina and the other of which was from Bristol. As both couples were frequent visitors to Sint Marteen this was a useful experience. Both couples were quite familiar with Cheri’s Café, the couple from North Carolina even knew who the owner’s son and husband were.

We also learned that both couples had been coming to Sint Maarten for some number of years. It seems that the couples now either coordinate visits or make attempts to see each other when they are both on the island at the same time. In some ways this reminded me of stories of Israelis and Palestinians (or Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland) who are friends in a distant land, but under normal circumstances would never see each other or attempt to understand the other group.

Shortly after finishing their meals the couple from North Carolina left return their car and catch their plane. We continued chatting with the couple from Bristol for some period of time. Just as we were leaving they told us that the bar has a web cam that can be remotely controlled by web users. One could plan to be in a particular location at a particular time and be visible on the web cam, if one was into that kind of thing.

All throughout our time at the bar planes of all sizes smaller than 747s were landing and taking off. Some seemed to pass just feet above the fence at the end of the runway, while others cleared it with plenty of room. Shortly after arriving we saw the United Airlines flight on which we had arrived a week earlier.

Almost as soon as we returned to the apartment I went to bed to take a nap. I was hoping that a nap would cure me of a headache (a possible explanation for the brevity of this post) that I had had all morning and afternoon. While I was sleeping my father went to the university to continue preparing lectures.

At about 6:30 PM my father called to tell me that he would be retuning home shortly. He asked if I would start preparing our evening meal while he clued up.

I was able to get our pork chops, rice, carrots, and brocoflower going very quickly. Within a few minutes of my father’s return the components of the meal had been cooked and we were ready to eat. While the meal wasn’t the world’s most flavourful meal, it was satisfying and relatively healthy. According to my father, my paternal grandmother would have been very pleased to see such a wide range of colours on a plate, as it likely indicates a full range of essential vitamins and nutrients.

Sint Maarten: Day 7

It seems that at some point I started to misspell Sint Maarten and have since had trouble keeping straight which vowel it is that I am to double. Amazingly, no one mentioned my very noticeable misspelling of the name in the titles of these posts (as nice as that would have been). Hopefully now that I am aware of the problem I will be more vigilant and eliminate any such problems before I post them.

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Not surprisingly, several things about Sint Maarten are a little different than they are in North America. One of the most noticeable changes is that while doors do have door knobs most function only as handles as there is no catch for them to pull in. The problem with this design, at least as far as I can see, is that it means that doors always have to be locked or they will be pushed open by moving air (such as wind or a draft). Fortunately, some bathroom and bedroom doors are equipped with more traditional mechanisms.

Toilets also tend to have less powerful flushes. This is likely to conserve water. As much of the drinking water is produced through various desalinization processes this makes sense. As water is expensive and difficult and expensive to produce its use should be minimized. Strangely, this seems to be just about the only gesture towards reduced consumption and environmental abuse that I have yet seen.

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Unlike the previous days this week my father had to be on campus before 7:30. This change in schedule meant that he did not wake me up for breakfast before he left for the morning, allowing me to get another hour and a half of sleep.

Upon waking I again proceeded to blow a substantial portion of the morning with various internet based activities (a few of which were actually useful and related trip). Eventually, I did manage to get ready for the day and make it outside.

I walked to Mullet Beach and made my way out on the rocky outcropping above the snorkeling grounds. While sitting alone on the rocks I was able to watch the rocks and the waves. One impression I had was that the water seemed particularly clear. Many of the rocks were clearly visible from high above the water.

Soon enough I received a call from my father indicating that he would be heading home for lunch. I climbed back down to the beach and then walked across the golf course and home. We ended up having sandwiches and odds and ends for lunch,

After lunch we made our way back to the university building. The main justification for the trip was so that I could stop by the library and get a tour. As I had previously met the librarian and suggested this, it wasn’t too much of a problem to arrange this once we arrived.

Wendy showed me the physical components of the library and also discussed many of the administrative decisions that she had made since arriving. As my library experience hasn’t been all that varied, this was a nice experience. I was particularly glad that she showed me her catalogue and associated system as it differed from the system with which I am most familiar but seemed quite functional and affordable.

While sitting in her office talking to me, Wendy received a call from her husband. It seemed that someone had chained a dinghy to their dinghy instead of the piece of cement, forcing Bob to tow it to their boat. When the person returned to the site they would find that their dinghy was missing. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to have any means of identifying the dinghy to let the owners know what had happened. Presumably they were able to work this matter out within the next few hours.

After departing from the library, and then the university, we returned to the apartment where, based my assessment of the conditions earlier in the day, we decided to go snorkeling at Mullet Beach. Almost as soon as we arrived we saw that the water wasn’t as clear as our previous visit. The water was so cloudy that we were prevented from seeing most of the fish in the area. I also wonder if the slightly altered conditions either changed the behaviour patterns of the fish, or caused them to relocated as I know that I should have been able to make out many of the bigger fish, had they been there.

Though we were not satisfied with the conditions we did stick it out for a while. Eventually, when it became clear that things weren’t about to improve and when it also became clear that we were both fogging up more than normal we decided to head in. As we were making our way back to the beach I looked down and saw a stingray type fish. While the animal was partly obscured by sand it was quite easy to make see the outline of the fish, including the stinging tail. When I came up to tell my father about my sighting he had to re-adjust his equipment before he was able to go back down. By the time that he was able to make it back in the water the stingray type thing had vanished, though not without alerting me to the dangers of the seemingly tame sandy beaches of Sint Maarten.

We both decided to spend a little more time on the beach after our snorkeling adventure. For the most part this meant sitting near the shore and allowing the waves to push or pull us. The result was that, once again, I ended up with sand all over my body, including my ears and my hair.

After cleaning up we made our way to Simpson Bay to look for the local post office and scooter rental locations. While we were able to find both, neither were open and neither included hours or operations or any indications of when they would be open again.

As we made our way back to the Cupecoy/university area we started to look for restaurants. After an unsuccessful scanning we decided to head to the Thai place in the casino. Once in the restaurant one of the first things we noticed was that many of the dishes weren’t really all that Thai, but just generally from Asia. While both of our meals were tolerable, neither of us was particularly impressed with our dining experience. The general consensus was that Cheri’s Café was a much better experience in terms of both food and service.

The casino itself was the next item on the evening’s agenda. While we didn’t have any plans to play, I had wanted to see what the inside of a Sint Maarten casino looked like. Not surprisingly, slot machines and various video terminals predominated. The 1 cent play machines were particularly popular with the patrons that were there while we were. Sadly, the various table games were not in operation during our exploration. From the tables that were present it was clear that this was a much smaller part of their business than the slots and related machines. Another surprise was the number of poker tables that they had. If I recall correctly they seemed to have at least six of these tables, which seemed large considering they only had about 10 other tables.

We then returned home and spoke to my mother and sister via Skype. After the call we started another game of rummy. Part way through the game we decided to have the previously purchased coconut as a snack.

We went on the balcony to smash it open. I was filming while my father was in charge of smashing. When my father first threw it down, the coconut bounced so high it almost went over the rail and off of the balcony. A second throw had similar results.

It then became clear that we should probably remove the outer husk of the fruit before we tried to smash it. With a large kitchen knife my father was able to cut into the husk to create openings that allowed him to tear it open, and eventually remove the soft protective elements.

Once the protective coating had been removed the coconut cracked on the first attempt. Both of us then tried some of the meat. I was somewhat disappointed in the eating experience. The meat was not particularly tasty, nor was it even easy to remove from the hard shell. This caused me to wonder if coconuts that they serve as beverages are slightly different in terms of maturity than those they serve as fruit, but I haven’t really been able to answer that question.

Eventually, we were able to get back to our rummy game. After only a hand or two we noticed that we had a call on Skype. It was my mother and sister. Though I have no idea what they were calling about, we did manage to talk about names of places on the island.

After the call we were able to return to the rummy game, this time to see it to its end. Unfortunately, I gave my father the victory in the dying moments of the final hand.

We then called it a night and went to bed, in an attempt to keep to our daily schedule (which resembles Newfoundland time).