mercredi 04.04.07 Posh Paradise
We’re making another boat trip today as we’re off to St. Barthélemy. St. Barthélemy is a bit of a mouthful so people call this posh paradise St. Barths. One brochure describes it as the playground for the rich and famous. Unfortunately, at this moment in time, it’s just another daytrip for us.
The 75 minute boat trip is not plain sailing. Only ten minutes into the voyage I’ve renamed the destination St. Barffs. Thankfully I don’t christen it but some unfortunates do as the boat company have unwittingly decided to give out free drinks. I nearly get re-christened by a guy with two brimming tumblers of juice who loses his sea legs and totters towards me. Spillage is not avoided but soakage is as John steadies the man as best he can.
Back on dry land we wander about the capital Gustavia for a while before getting split up. John has the thirst on him and Heather and Nic decide to hit the shops while I pop off down some side streets. The roads are so narrow and steep and the town is full of tiny Smart cars and ladies on mopeds wearing killer-heels. I wander about taking in the sights and taking snaps of the classy yachts which are moored in the marina for at least €5000 a day.
We regroup for our bus-tour and we’re put into a mini-van with an informative guide and four Yanks who have been all over Ireland. John has been renamed Mr. Quantity as he can convert quantities and distances and do maths in an instant; another quality farmer feature. John and one of the Yanks discuss the difference between American and European and Scandinavian yards and miles while the rest of us take in the island’s sights from the bus. The highlight has to be the tiny, beach-side airport with its miniscule run-way which ends at the water. After lunch of Mahi-Mahi and apple pie we head to the beach to sun ourselves and watch the 6-seaters land and take-off across the bay.
We’re back on the bus again to take in the more rugged bays and natural sights of the island before we’re dropped back to Gustavia. Souvenirs are bought and we spend the final hour at Le Select which is said to be a celeb hangout though in reality it stinks of grease and the lack of hotties makes us hyper and we have to resolve to foam antics to entertain ourselves; John isn’t impressed but he can rarely handle our lewd humour!
Back on boat we all nod off. Its restless sleep, especially with Nic taking sly pics, but it’s better than witnessing anymore open-mouth, overboard action. The greasy reception at Le Select has put us in the mood for big, bad burgers so we indulge on bad-ass beef for dinner. The dessert is even better – warm chocolate fondant and vanilla ice-cream. I’ll have sweet dreams for many months to come.
We’re making another boat trip today as we’re off to St. Barthélemy. St. Barthélemy is a bit of a mouthful so people call this posh paradise St. Barths. One brochure describes it as the playground for the rich and famous. Unfortunately, at this moment in time, it’s just another daytrip for us.
The 75 minute boat trip is not plain sailing. Only ten minutes into the voyage I’ve renamed the destination St. Barffs. Thankfully I don’t christen it but some unfortunates do as the boat company have unwittingly decided to give out free drinks. I nearly get re-christened by a guy with two brimming tumblers of juice who loses his sea legs and totters towards me. Spillage is not avoided but soakage is as John steadies the man as best he can.
Back on dry land we wander about the capital Gustavia for a while before getting split up. John has the thirst on him and Heather and Nic decide to hit the shops while I pop off down some side streets. The roads are so narrow and steep and the town is full of tiny Smart cars and ladies on mopeds wearing killer-heels. I wander about taking in the sights and taking snaps of the classy yachts which are moored in the marina for at least €5000 a day.
We regroup for our bus-tour and we’re put into a mini-van with an informative guide and four Yanks who have been all over Ireland. John has been renamed Mr. Quantity as he can convert quantities and distances and do maths in an instant; another quality farmer feature. John and one of the Yanks discuss the difference between American and European and Scandinavian yards and miles while the rest of us take in the island’s sights from the bus. The highlight has to be the tiny, beach-side airport with its miniscule run-way which ends at the water. After lunch of Mahi-Mahi and apple pie we head to the beach to sun ourselves and watch the 6-seaters land and take-off across the bay.
We’re back on the bus again to take in the more rugged bays and natural sights of the island before we’re dropped back to Gustavia. Souvenirs are bought and we spend the final hour at Le Select which is said to be a celeb hangout though in reality it stinks of grease and the lack of hotties makes us hyper and we have to resolve to foam antics to entertain ourselves; John isn’t impressed but he can rarely handle our lewd humour!
Back on boat we all nod off. Its restless sleep, especially with Nic taking sly pics, but it’s better than witnessing anymore open-mouth, overboard action. The greasy reception at Le Select has put us in the mood for big, bad burgers so we indulge on bad-ass beef for dinner. The dessert is even better – warm chocolate fondant and vanilla ice-cream. I’ll have sweet dreams for many months to come.
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