Getting off the ship

17th May 2007

Me yet again,

Well, I’ve just gotten back from Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Yet another country to add to my list of places visited. Am I looking forward to seeing it again in two weeks time? Yes and no. Not that there’s anything wrong with it but it is just another town in the Caribbean and unless you’re into sitting on white sandy beaches drinking cocktails and listening to reggae music then it may be something that will lose its appeal after a few visits. So far my favourite port is St. Thomas but that’s for reasons other than the white sandy beaches and the cocktails. Today I did manage to see a high school marching band hold up traffic in the main street for no apparent reason other than just to march in the road. I also got a haircut from a Jamaican barber for only $10 and had an extraordinarily good dish of a seafood medley (including conch) in a Thai style curry sauce while listening to a reggae DJ and watching the palm trees sway. The only problem was that the palm trees were swaying because of the tropical downpour at the time and I was soaked to the skin and had taken refuge on the veranda of the restaurant to escape the rain. A piece of serendipity as it turned out because the food was excellent and I didn’t mind giving up the free buffet onboard and spending my hard earned cash on it.

I have been kindly given the night off by Andy, the Head Cashier, and plan on seeing the show in the main theatre. I was a bit surprised when he told me, given that at the interview I was told that days off are few and far between, but Andy believes in his staff having a life and I’m not about to argue. A quick trip into town after another exciting training exercise (involving checking our cabin for bombs and then checking our ‘alert position’ as well before mustering at our muster station for a mustering’ exercise, all of which took an hour and a half) and I am now set up to do a bit of writing before heading off to the show. Tonight there is ‘The Action Comedy of Thien Fu’ followed by ‘Piano Man featuring the music of Billy Joel, Neil Sedaka, Barry Manilow, Liberace and Elton John’. Apparently Piano Man is one of the best shows that they’ve had so I hope I get a seat. Unfortunately I have to give way to passengers so I just hope that not all 3000 have decided to see it tonight and there’s a spare seat for me.

Of course Ocho Rios isn’t the only port I’ve seen so far and it’s probably time I revisited them with you, especially given that the whole reason for my being here is to these places.

Apart from a flying visit to Nassau previously, St. Maarten was my first opportunity to escape the confines of the ship and to experience a true Caribbean island. I went into it with no idea of what to expect. A lot of the people I’d spoken to had no tremendously positive things to say about the place or any of our other ports of call for that matter. I think the problem may be less to do with the ports and more to do with having seen them so many times. You can only do the tourist thing and wander the duty free stores for so long before you start to crave a bit of normality. Andy and his girlfriend play tennis every time they visit St. Thomas and it’s probably that bit of routine that helps to keep them sane and almost make it seem like a real life rather than this travelling one. For me though it was all still a novel experience and I was determined to soak in as much of it as possible in the short time I had. I didn’t take my camera because I wanted this first visit to be just one of looking and getting a feel for the place before I came back and started taking photos on another visit. Sometimes the desire to look for ‘the shot’ can detract from the bigger picture. All things going to plan I’ll be back and I already know the things and places I want to get photos of including the amazing sight of the ship at the dock, the bulk of it standing out dramatically against the green of the vegetation on one side and the blue of the water on the other.

Once off the gangway and through the port buildings (or tourist shops in other words) selling all manner of duty free jewellery and booze it was just a matter of walking out the gate, turning left and following the footpath into town. At the moment this walk is a bit ramshackle and industrial with the lush green of the mountain side on the right and various building sites and beached boats on the left. Within a few seconds I was sweating with the humidity and heat and wondering what it would be like when summer really kicks in but a short time later I was being rained on in a truly tropical way with huge drops pelting me like little lead shots. There were plenty of passengers making the walk like me, who had also been too mean to pay for one of the taxis lined up at the port desperately trying to outdo each other with the amenities in their cabs, but I was the only one who seemed unconcerned about the rain. It seemed obvious to me that it was just a shower and the heat was going to dry things out pretty fast once it had passed but that didn’t stop some people from trying to make a run for it who probably shouldn’t have made the attempt given the amount of flesh now moving in a distinctly Homer Simpsonish manner. The rain had stopped by the time I reached the town proper and just 10 minutes of walking along the concrete boardwalk next to the beach was enough to dry me of at least of the rain if not of the returning perspiration.

Philipsburg (the town we dock at on the island of St Maarten) is a town of potential. It has a feel that is similar to what I imagine places like Burleigh Heads must have had 50 years ago. The beach is white and clean and curves for a couple of km’s around the inside of the bay with a concrete ‘boardwalk’ between the sand and a row of bars and restaurants, all with a ramshackle appearance that may be genuine Caribbean casualness or a carefully cultivated Caribbean chic for the people off the cruise ships. Every place has a beach style and name, many now adopting a name from the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ movies and fighting for some variation on Captain Jack. There is also no lack of offers of burgers with a bucket of beer or the cheapest American name labels in a six pack with the fast food of your choice and a million dollar view of the most amazingly coloured water I have ever seen. Plenty of pale bodies were already littering the beach chairs set up and either charged for, or coming as part of the meal, at the opposite restaurant. In a way it would be an extreme pity to see high-rises looming over this beach in the Surfers Paradise way and so far the only real development seems to be much further around the bay and towards the point but I can’t see them holding out against the big money developers for ever and I’m just glad that I’ve seen St Maarten while it still looks and feels the way it does and not in another 10 years.

Behind the bars and restaurants is Front Street and this narrow little road, that follows the curve of the beach, is packed with duty free stores selling jewellery, perfumes, electronics etc. Okay, time for a little history lesson. St Maarten was, reputedly, discovered by Columbus in 1493 and up until 1648 it was disputed by all the major seafaring nations of the time before finally being split into two by the French and the Dutch. Sugarcane plantations brought slavery to the island but when slavery was abolished (1848 by the French and 15 years later by the Dutch so I know which side I would have preferred living on if I was a slave) it meant an economic disaster and a depression that lasted until 1939 when import and export taxes were abolished and the island became a free port. An airport, a few hotels and cruise ports later and there is a thriving duty free industry. I can attest to how much it’s thriving by the number of shops and the number of American tourists buying things even cheaper than they can get them at home. I may not know jewellery or the normal prices of the alcohol for sale but I can say that the prices of the electronic stuff I looked at seemed to vary, with some cameras being excellent buys and some other things being about on par with the prices on EBay. The jewellery stores seemed to be doing good business however and of course no one can resist cheap booze. Crammed in with the impressive looking duty free stores was an eclectic collection of small shop fronts selling the usual array of t-shirts and tacky souvenirs so the feeling wasn’t completely one of expensive shopping and there was still a place for the less well heeled like myself. Venturing a few streets back from Front Street I found the part where the locals shop and managed to get some needed supplies from a small place to replenish my toothpaste and deodorant. In just a matter of a couple of streets the facade had gone and I found myself the only non-local looking person.

Philipsburg is the capital of the Dutch half of the island and I think that one more visit for photo taking purposes may exhaust all it has to offer. The duty free places hold little appeal, I’m not a lay on the beach sort of person and prowling the backstreets with the locals is something you can only do for so long. Luckily a visit to the Marigot, the capital of the French half is a possibility. How much is a trip to the opposite side of the island and another ‘city’ going to cost? I hear you ask. A return taxi fare is $24, given that the entire island is only 37 square miles. I’m hoping that the food there may have a French flare lacking in the beach side fast food of Philipsburg. With another 10 potential visits before my 6 months are up I still have plenty of time to find the magic of this island but so far it doesn’t compare with my favourite, which I found the next day in St. Thomas.

Okay, so I’m strange. I’m standing in the tropical paradise of St. Maarten, with sparkling beach, blue water and the opportunity for cheap buckets of beer and instead I go roaming the streets the locals frequent. I would rather take photos of faded and peeling facades than the glitz and glamour of the duty free shops. While others may come back with tales of bars and nightclubs I seek out the museums and historical markers. But it was all of this that made St Thomas so much more interesting the next day.

Andy had drawn a bit of a rough map for me to find my way to the downtown area of Charlotte Amalie, the capital of St Thomas. Unfortunately the ship docks a little ways out of the downtown area itself at Crown Bay and, at least for this first time, a map was handy for getting me to the main road after which it was a straight walk. Of course I could have paid the $4 for a taxi like all the Americans who probably would have blanched at the thought of walking 1.5 miles through the ‘real’ St Thomas but neither the walk nor the idea of sharing the footpath with the locals was going to be something I planned on missing. Through the now familiar cluster of duty free stores marking the port area and then up and down a few roads brought me to the main road. It took a couple of intersections before I realised that they were driving on the left hand side of the road. Despite this being the US Virgin Islands and American in every other way they still stuck to that colonial quirk, even if they drove left hand drive cars obviously imported from the States. The walk itself was uneventful and apart from a stop at a service (or gas) station for a coke fix it was an easy if humid way to get downtown.

This time, instead of a beach, St Thomas has water that comes right up to a concrete wall that edges the road in front of the shops. This makes it possible for all the water taxis and tour boats to depart from the centre of town and with ‘Water Island’ providing protection across the mouth of the bay from the open ocean there is a spectacular view across the blue water to the green hills of the island. The other thing that caught my attention was the sea plane taking off across the harbour and I immediately chalked it up as something that I must do. It turned out that the plane makes regular flights to other parts of the island and neighbouring islands but I would be happy to simply fly somewhere, turn around and fly back again for both the views and the takeoffs and landings on the water. Coming into downtown Charlotte Amalie the first impression was one of chaotic traffic as dozens of taxis, simply utes with seats welded into the back and an awning over them, vied to drop off passengers from the two ships in port and get fares back again. It wasn’t until I dove into the myriad of little laneways that make up the bulk of the downtown tourist shopping area that I began to fall in love with the place.

I’ve been to Disneyland and been on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. I’ve seen and enjoyed the movies of the same name and seen Errol Flynn slicing his way down the mainsail in the iconic image of those early black and white pirate movies. I may have even dressed up as a pirate when I was a kid and fantasised about some exciting and swashbuckling life of pillaging the high seas. I’ve certainly watched the documentaries on the Discovery Channel and can name my fair share of famous pirates but as soon as I started walking down the narrow laneways of Charlotte Amalie I began to notice the plaques attached to the brick walls and they made me look anew at what was around me and even at the cobblestones under my feet. This was Pirate country. Pirate with a capital P. The plaques talked of the ships that had visited the islands with bricks in their holds used as ballast on the empty voyage there only to dump the bricks and fill their holds with the tropical wonders that made their fortunes in Europe. Those bricks were then claimed by the locals and used to build permanent structures as the town grew and became a major trading port and, at times, a haven for the pirates that infested the Caribbean waters.

I love to touch history and I seemed to be the only person who was even bothering to stop and read the plaques that seemed to be everywhere. The average tourist was more interested in what they could spend their money on, what trade they could make for the cash in their pocket, than in the fact that trading had been happening within the same walls for centuries and blood may very well have been spilt in the course of those trades. Some plaques talked of buried (or at least hidden) treasures that were rumoured to be under the cobblestones I was standing on. Others talked of destruction by fire as the town was near incinerated after drunken fighting. All of the shops were refurbished rooms in what used to be homes or taverns or warehouses. They now had the ubiquitous duty free shops and enough gold and jewellery on display to give any self respecting pirate wet dreams.

I spent so long walking up and down the narrow lanes, some barely wide enough for two people shoulder to shoulder, that I never made it to the other end of the downtown area. I did manage to pick up one of those tourist booklets with the ads and the coupons that every destination in the world seems to produce and according to the map inside there is a museum in town. I never made it that far so I can’t say if it’s worth a look or not but I certainly know where I’ll be going next week when we arrive there again. I did manage to stumble over one shop called ‘Pirates in Paradise’ that sells historical souvenirs or, in other words, things that range from genuine pieces of eight and 300 year old clay pipes to swords and canons. It’s just a matter of deciding what I want and whether to buy another bag to put it in for the trip home, or a shipping container perhaps. How cool would a genuine pirate canon look in the living room and what effect would it have on any Jehovah’s Witnesses brave enough to knock on my door.

For anyone who may have checked the itinerary of the Caribbean Princess you might be wondering why I’ve never mentioned Princess Cays. There’s a good reason for this…I haven’t bothered getting off the ship to see it. It’s simply an island that the cruise line bought and has set up a bit of a water sport complex on. There is nothing else there and even any food for the passengers has to be taken ashore from the ship. Everyone I’ve asked about it says that the beach is nice but if you go once in your six month contract then that’s more than enough. I’m saving the thrill for later.

So that’s the places I’ve seen so far. It’s only a taste of all of them, figuring that there isn’t much point in expending all the excitement of each destination in one go. Tomorrow it’s Grand Cayman so I should have stories to tell from there as well as more details on the others in my next message.

Greg

Just a PS.

I’ve just gotten back from George Town on Grand Cayman. I have to admit that all of these towns are starting to have a certain sameness and I’m finding myself looking for anything that separates one from the other. How the passengers decide which town and which duty free store to spend their money in is a mystery. It was with some excitement that I stumbled on the Cayman National Museum, only to find that it had been damaged by a hurricane and was undergoing rebuilding. So much for what may have been the only bit of cultural interest on the island I’d be interested in. I may have to retreat to Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville to drown my sorrows. Oh well, time to send this email before I hit the buffet, get a couple of hours sleep and then go to work.