It
may seem extravagant to consult God on vacation details, but for the
Caribbean, don't hesitate to call on a saint or two. Above, St. Barts.
(Bob Gevinski)
The St. Thomas tram, by the cruise ship dock, takes riders to Paradise Point.
(U.s. Virgin Island Tourism Office)
In the late 1970s, officials decided to transform the French West
Indies island into a high-end destination; their efforts paid platinum.
"It became a destination for rich people," said Eddy Galvani, director
of the Wall House Museum in Gustavia, the capital, named when Sweden
was in control. "It's a fashion place." The haunt of the mega-wealthy
and obsessed-over is often a stop on a kind of Route d'Affluence:
Cannes, Paris, New York, St. Barts.
Yet St. Barts also has an earthy side, like Marie Antoinette
dressed down in plastic flip-flops and cut-offs. "It's a very human,
authentic place," said Louisa Messous, who runs Drugstore des Caraibes
beachwear and souvenir shop in St. Jean. "Everyone says 'Allo, allo' to
each other. No one is [she placed her finger under her nose and lifted
slightly]."
To be fair, St. Barts did make my bank account bleat. A room at the
luxe Hotel Carl Gustaf, for example, starts at nearly $700, and you
must brave hurricanes for that "low" price. At the Hotel Guanahani's
restaurant, Indigo, hamburgers cost more than $30. Everything, in fact,
seems pricier than its stateside equivalent because of the euro, the
local currency.
However, I never balked at the prices because I was never a slave to
them, finding pleasure in the island's simpler offerings. St. Barts is
an overgrown garden of bougainvillea, hibiscus and cacti interrupted
only by twee red-roofed homes and shredded roads. The 20 or so beaches
promote égalité: All are public and none has less-white sand than the
others. Some promote true liberté: On Saline beach, many sunbathers
strip down to their Adam and Eve costumes.
In Corossol, the dress code is more puritan. Not too long ago, the
women of the fishing village were still wearing bonnets. Unlike the
designer scenes at such resorts as Eden Rock and Le Toiny, here the
community is subdued and reserved. The men fish for a living and the
women weave palm fronds into hats, clutch bags, place mats and napkin
ring holders. The items are displayed on windowsills and in yards, de
facto stores.
I approached a doll-size hat resting on a chair set outside a living
room window. Two women of grandmother age emerged to sell their wares.
Neither spoke English (only French), and they explained the process of
palm art through hand gestures and props.
A pair of women rode up on a moped and scooped up a sizable share of
the lot. They did not, however, buy the bouquet of birds poised to take
flight. As I walked away with my $10 souvenir, I imagined the
conversation I could one day have with Letterman about who on St. Barts
sells the best straw birds.
Other points of interest: Shell Beach, which has mounds of shells; Le Select, the restaurant that inspired the Jimmy Buffet song "Cheeseburger in Paradise"; Lorient Beach, for sea turtle sightings and a small-scale shopping complex; for views of Gustavia Harbor, climb up the short hill outside town that is topped by cannons; Corossol's Inter Oceans Shell Museum, for a collection of sand and shell specimens.
St. John
The true nature of St. John is exactly that: nature.
"Many of the islands have a national park," said Babs Raley, who works
at Maho Bay Camps, an eco-lodge with tented accommodations and more
than 30 years of green cred, "but two-thirds of St. John is protected."
The safeguarded land was a gift from Laurance Rockefeller, a member
of that monied family who had a soft spot for the smallest of the U.S.
Virgin Islands. In 1956, he donated thousands of acres to the National Park Service, preserving not just his legacy but also the hills, trees and reefs.