Virgin Islands – Page 2

A Bed Crisis and Hairpin Laced Ascends

August 2, 2025August 7, 2025uniquelytheo2 Comments

It was travel day to St. John’s so we dutifully followed the VRBO checkout instruction…reminds me how glad I am that one doesn’t have to have to strip beds before checking out of a motel. But such is the case here. So we tidied up best we could, though not too much of a challenge as it would have been with all the detritus of our harder living younger day’s. Feedback from the owner rated us as 5 Star guest. Is this akin to our even younger selves always reaching for that elusive “A” in our school days?

The smoothest part of the trip was getting to the airport. We were flying on Cape Air back to St. Thomas from the Cyril E King airport. My grandson Luke is nuts about planes and flying so this was special because Luke had no idea we were flying back and thought we would have to get to the ferry dock for another 2 hour experience of the slapping of the waves and the curtains of saltwater spraying the windows. In the midst of figuring out the mechanics of getting from “here-to-there, ” he would ask questions about getting from “here-to-there” and everyone rudely ignored him or pretended they did not hear. So he was quite astonished when we preceded to the check in at the Cape Air counter instead of proceeding to the taxi stand to get to the ferry terminal. It was my “birthday party” for the family for Luke’s upcoming 18th birthday. That elation was short-lived though and it turned into panic when he realized he had left his passport and money in the rental car. Nick high-tailed it back there and fortunately was able to quickly retrieve it but so began the self-recriminations. Now was the time for Nick and myself to rise to the occasion and tell stories of his dad’s misplacing tickets, lost wallets, lost watches …. a pretty extensive history.

The plane for our flight was the Cessna 402, known as an workhorse aircraft and a favorite of regional aircraft for island hopping. Compared to all those jumbo jets it looked like a toy airplane. Luke was not assigned the copilot seat as it seemed they were assigning seats by body weight and he and I were the ‘light weights” assigned to the two rear seats. But it really didn’t matter since I was sitting next to this young man who couldn’t stop beaming. This was pure joy for both of us. The plane ride was but a brief 20 minute skip as we skimmed low above the Caribbean and gazed at the postcard picturesque scenes. Stretching below was a quilt of green and the deep blue depths of the open water. Though we took off in the brilliant sun we landed during a typical daily rain squall.

After snagging our suitcases, we headed out to a chaotic scene of taxi service hawkers. I grabbed one of these would be transporters and inquired about service out to Redhook. For $25.00 per person we were treated to a “locals” description of his life, his seven babies (he said he kept quite busy) and discussion of his fishing excursions and the fish he liked to cook and how he prepared it etc. The roads were steep, narrow with hairpin turns (beginning to get used to these) and we arrived at the Redhook terminal for the 2:00 PM ferry. After purchasing tickets for both ourselves and our suitcases from a rather abrupt ticket agent (I guess suitcases have personhood as they cost the same as a person), we parked ourselves in this shabby bustling tropical waiting room with its mismatched benches and open air architecture but enjoying the bustling with a mix of humanity of sunburned tourists, day trippers, locals, business folks… This 20 minute excursion to St. John’s was unremarkable.

Finally, after collecting our checked luggage we made our way through the crowded waterfront up to L & L Jeep rental to get our rental car for the week. I thought I was signing my life away with all the waivers, inspection of the body, and instructions per return. Finally loading up, Nick began an even more challenging driving odyssey. In a crazy roundabout, we definitely emerged onto the wrong street and ended up taking a circuitous route toward the VRBO. Driving St. Croix was a breeze compared to the bumpy, steep, curvy, corkscrew roads which were primarily in disrepair on St. John’s . After numerous sharp curves and steep ascents we were headed in the right direction. I was grateful to not be the driver but wished that Nick did not have to tackle all of the white-knuckled roller-coaster roads on this trip.

At the same time as we were trying to arrive at our destination alive, I kept getting text from the VRBO manager. He had a broken Murphy bed in the third bedroom (I guess the previous guests were pretty rowdy) and wanted us to make the decision about the replacement mattress we would desire. Did we want a blow up mattress or a futon.” JP” was supposed to meet us at the ferry but clearly was immersed in his bed crisis… We finally said we would find our way there and decide then.

I was getting pretty annoyed by the whole scenario but once on the property any semblance of annoyance vanished as we gazed upon the view of Chocolate Hole and Great Cruz Bay. Upon our arrival, he was sincerely apologetic and very chatty though in my mind he was somewhat of a scattered ADHD adult. He proudly showed us about this renovated property (much of his work) and called our attention to the bottles of rum which we might enjoy partaking of. The Westin below us with their mini-bar can’t compete with this establishment! I wasn’t about to disappoint him and tell hime we were not big alcohol consumers. JP played the role of a helpful concierge by suggesting many places we might be interested in patronizing. He finally took leave to hopefully solve the bed crisis as we had requested the futon.

This luxury villa had two bedrooms with king beds, and what they called a third bedroom (this is a questionable assignation) which was supposed to have a full-size pull-down bed. I found it more akin to an office area to be walked through to get to the other bedroom. Delightfully, both bedrooms had al fresco showers. As in St. Croix the open-air living room and kitchen and al fresco dining area blended the indoor and outdoor spaces thus allowing the topical breezes or the brisker trade winds to blow through.

Invitingly cool and refreshing looking, we discovered this sun heated pool was not particularly cool. Nevertheless it still was always a refreshing dip.

Eventually we picked up a few groceries for simple meals and sat back and enjoyed the surrounds, a swim in the pool, the lights on the harbor, the gentle breezes. Lounging in the WARM WATER, with the breathtaking views of Chocolate Hole Bay, lights of the harbor, and the gentle breezes was much more than we had hoped for. But where was JP as we were winding down for the night? The new bed, a futon, finally arrived around 9:00 pm so Luke finally had a “bedroom.”

The following is my son Nick’s take on the same day of the adventure:

VI-Day 5 – Fancy That!

https://honimills180.wordpress.com/2025/07/21/vi-day-5-fancy-that/?_gl=153f66f_gcl_au*MTYwMzE0OTE0MC4xNzUyNzE5MTg0

Trounced by Trumbull and Sidling to the Sea

July 25, 2025July 25, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

I was quite grateful for the air cooled bedrooms in our Judith Fancy villa but, as I emerged from it the second morning, I was so much more appreciative of the balmy breeze, salt tinged air, the wide blue sky and the blazing island sun. But no tarrying on our only other full day in St. Croix. We had decided the day’s adventure would be hiking the Trumbull Trail to the Annaly Bay tide pools and needed to get on the road if we hoped to reach the pools at low tide.

The difficulty rating of the the Trumbull Trail is a relative thing and despite reviews of it being easy ( rated a stroll in the park that young strong legs make it out to be) or moderate (rated by most middle of the pack hikers)but for an 81 year old 4’11” female it was an adventure that left me so acutely aware of the withering of my formally very strong Ironman legs despite the fact that I regularly do weights for leg strengthening. But with walking stick in hand, I was oft times sandwiched between Nick and Tasia to hopefully catch any forward or backward stumbling, skidding on loose gravel, missteps, trips or other lost footings. I have never been the most coordinated person nor been known for my graceful movements. For me it was a rough, somewhat punishing experience of a trail being outfitted with tripping roots and skidding rocks, lots of short steep up and down on a very narrow ribbon of gravel, rock and roots. I also have to admit that I did not have the wisdom to wear my hiking boots. The sign at the trailhead speaks a lot about the trail upkeep .

My walking stick worked overtime. I crept along like a determined little arthritic mountain goat and I lost track of how many times I nearly stumbled. But, Nick and Tasia were always there to provide emergency arm assists. Luke was my temporary hiking sherpa though I am sure he would have much preferred to be daypack free. I gratefully accepted any helping hand which was offered knowing I was not as spry and agile as I envisioned myself to be i.e. that vision is of a gazelle over the terrain. Thankfully the thick tree coverage shaded much of the trail but it also blocks almost any breeze. The sweat factor might be described as a full body drip exacerbated by my wearing SFP gear with long sleeves and long pants.

Many reviews of this hike suggested good footwear but heartbreakingly, mid-hike one of Nick’s old Merrill sandal straps snapped ( definitely not an ideal situation on a trail that would not be considered well groomed) . So he began joking about it, only to have a strap on the other sandal give out on the return trip. He the coined them as his “fop-flips. I am wondering if the next time I see him hiking with sandals if it will be the old Merrill’s “repaired” with string, twist ties and silver tape.

In short and succinctly put – rocks, roots, humidity, sweat . . . perfection! It was a great hike of 1 hr 30 minutes to the stony beach which would eventually lead to the tide pools. The round trip was a 4.25 mile workout.

I had to think twice about making the scramble over the lava rocks to the tide pools as I could see some very jagged rock and ledges which I would need to climb up and over to access the pool. This was flirting with danger such as a twisted ankle, a lacerating trip on the jagged lava rock, the choose-your-own adventure nature of the scramble, or a fracture of my osteoporotic bones… It would be a tough sweaty brutal carry out of my damaged body as there is no cell service and no easy rescue.

So I let my imagination run wild and decided that this could be just one bad step away from catastrophe (and for those who know me well, I tend to err on the side of reckless decisions) and opted to stay on the beach and piddle around in the sea gardens there. I also reminded myself that there was a repeat of the previous hiking adventure in reverse awaiting. Though disappointed in not getting to see the grand finale of this hike, I recalled that I had been to magnificent tide pools in Cannon Beach Oregon just last year.

The sun was intense and the marine gardens at the edge sea were intriguing. I plopped myself in the water with a rock as my backrest and sat mesmerized by the miniature pools of flickering water surrounding me. They were teeming with a variety of marine algae both glimmering pink-hued and brown algae looking like ruffled paper, shells, corals , black snails…

The family reappeared about and hour and a quarter later having had an exhilarating experience, though Nick did loose a bit of his dignity in an encounter with the lava obstacle course and was bemoaning the jarring his body took and the decorative lacerations on his appendages. Can we blame it on the “flop-flip? On the hike out from the beach we were all to glad to bail on the final section out to the official trail head, bypassing some of the jungle slog, and take the unofficial backdoor out to the car. The landscape changed from rocky sandy slopes to a “spa brochure “ walk through the Carambola Beach Resort.

With still a few hours remaining for adventure, Nick , Tasia, and I opted for a drive to the farthest eastern point on the island and the eastern most point of the US. The sole purpose was for me to say I had been to eastern most point in the US. It is a popular sunrise adventure but I did not feel compelled to be at the eastern most part of the US at sunrise. Luke and Miriam were of the mindset that a vacation is for resting and opted out. However it was much more than a bag another first experience. The vast ocean surrounded in every direction.

Point Udall was named in honor of the politician Stewart Udall in 1968. Topping this spot it is a geometric stone structure of spike-like pillars, the Millennium Monument. It is a modern looking stone compass built for the millennium to commemorate the dawn of a new century. It was the place to be on 01/01/2000 as the compass marked the azimuth of the first U.S. sunrise of that year.

After milling about for a bit, we saw the trailhead for the Jack & Isaac Trail. Needing to stretch my limits further with another hike, I was hoping my body would forget that I had already hiked today. The trail cut downward on a well worn relatively obstacle free path through windswept terrain similar to the tropical desert on Buck Island. As I trudged along what lay before me was stunning. The landscape of Issac and Jack’s Bays was a ribbon of white sand between the brilliant turquoise of water and the verdant greens of the hills. At the second egress for Isaac’s bay we doffed anything we did not want to get wet and plunged into this cool salty blue sea. Afterwards we hiked back partially on the beach. I was so grateful to have the energy to be able to experience the immersion into this postcard perfect scene.

There was one last adventure to be had which basically turned out to be a real dud. A walk to “Bio Bay” from our Judith Fancy VRBO was undertaken to hopefully experience the Salt River Bay glow. When the water is agitated the bioluminescent organisms (fireworms, jellies, and marine planktons) light up.I had seen this in the Florida Everglades and was anticipatory of a similar experience. I at first thought I saw the water light up but upon a closer look it was only the moonlight reflecting on the ripples. So Nick was glad to oblige us by wading in and agitating the water. Nothing. Throwing rocks, nothing. More agitation, nothing, So we eventually called it a day and meandered on back to our lodging.

Sucking Sea Water and Sun Sodden Schlepping

July 22, 2025July 22, 2025uniquelytheoLeave a comment

We were departing for Gallows Bay, St. Croix from the Blyden Ferry terminal in St. Thomas ( a 40 mile trip) and arrived there with a fair amount of time to spare before our three pm departure. The terminal is definitely NOT fancy and decidedly HOT. We parked ourselves on the uncomfortable wooden benches and I could not help thinking this is more akin to a greyhound bus station in the wrong part of town rather than what my conception of a Caribbean cruise terminal would be like.

The QE IV is a high speed catamaran and as it plowed the Caribbean Sea on this relatively calm journey (per the captain, the swells were mild), I was grateful for this relative mildness. The slap of the water on the windows was very enlivening and definitely not of the sea sickness level. The vibrant soundtrack on this voyage was a mixture of the hum of the engines, the occasional creak, and the thump, splat, slap of a sheet of water as it flings itself against the window. WHAP and then it dribbles down the glass. Repeat for two hours.

Docking was at the Gallows Bay terminal in Christiansted ! By the time we collected our luggage and made our way roadside, there was not a livery service vehicle to be seen. We needed to pick up a rental car at the airport and had decided that since taxis charge per person, it was best that only Nick and I make our way there. Having had minimal luck ordering a taxi, the ferry captain arranged for an open-air taxi, aka “safaris” to come. Before long a regular taxi showed up and being opportunistic we hopped in it as there was no guarantee when the hypothetical safari vehicle would arrive.

I have had a Caribbean dreamscape over the years about it being a paradise in which I would be immersed in the salt-air, my skin kissed by the trade winds, and floating in turquoise waters above technicolor reef just offshore… a true tropical paradise. But upon arrival, the sun was intense and I was immersed in steam bath humidity. On the drive to the airport there were abandoned building, shuttered storefronts, crumbing facades, pot holed roads winding through scrubby vegetation… the scene definitely was not of the picture perfect postcard or the polished resort variety. The driver took us through the industrial area further dashing any preconceived notion I had about this being a carefree tropical island of unsurpassed beauty. In the area of Limetree Bay was the remaining skeleton of the original Hess oil massive refinery which went “dead” in 2021 because of toxic emissions, health concerns, foul odors, EPA violation resulting in devastating losses of jobs and an economic catastrophe .

Picking up the rental car, a 4-door Jeep Wrangler was seamless and Nick soon was behind the drivers wheel and getting used to the driving on the left-hand side of the pot-holed roads. I thought getting a jeep was basically a lark but in actuality a necessity given the roads. I had hope his long term memory of driving on the left in Australia was an asset and would kick in but since, unlike in the English tradition, with the steering column on the right , the steering column was in the normal American style on the left side adding another challenge on these narrow, rough and unpredictable roads.

Finally, gathering up the family at the ferry terminal, we made out way to our VRBO coined an “Island Vibe Retreat” in “Judith Fancy, ” a gated residential community built on the 18th century Judith Fancy Sugar Plantation. It was named after Judith, a free woman of color, and considered a prized and “stylish” manor i.e fancy . Ruins of the old sugar mill remain and were visible from the courtyard of the house. Similar ruins of many of the old rum and sugar plantations exist throughout the island.

This was a true Caribbean style indoor/outdoor living space with a large courtyard for dining . Off of this open-air central courtyard were 3 bedrooms with en-suites, (the only air conditioned rooms) a living room, dining room, kitchen. and laundry room all with their own separate locks and keys. From the front it would seem that this was a secure fortress but in reality one could access all of the rooms by going around the side or back. Hence, Luke became the keeper of the keys and had the sacred responsibility of opening and locking every single room every time we went out. Given that Luke can be highly anxious and extra cautious this job suited him well. A favorite spot was a rooftop patio, with its gentle breezes in the evening after the sweltering sun vanished below the horizon.

However, the main rooms did not scream calypso or reggae vibes and definitely were not of the Caribbean vibe. A striking painting that graced the living room definitely burst with color and emotion but in my mind did definitely not “fit” the Caribbean setting and I found it slightly unsettling and unnerving with its splattered streaked paint. It would best suited for a Miami art museum. I was relieved to spend all of my stay in the outdoor parts of the house as viewing it once was enough.

The premier event that I planned on St. Croix was a sailing and snorkeling excursion to Buck Island, described as a “marine garden” established by John F. Kennedy in 1961 and is designated a National Monument . It is a no-take marine protected area in the Caribbean Sea. Buck Island itself is physically protected by a flourishing elkhorn reef formed by elkhorn coral (branches fan out like the antlers of an elk and are brown in color.) With Captain Carl was at the helm, weathered by years of sailing under the Caribbean sun, and after an engine assisted sail out of the harbor on this 42-foot Trimaran (Teroro II), we sped towards our destination under sail power only. I note this because all the other companies going to Buck Island tend to use motorized vessels and I opted for the less polluting choice.

The sail was invigorating as Captain Carl pointed homes along a rocky headland, Pull Point, including one home frequently visited by Joe Biden that was owned by a longtime fiend of his and another where the physicist Robert Oppenheimer often stayed with friends …plus other interesting trivia. I would have been much more interested in learning about elkhorn coral and parrot fish than the vacation spots off famous people! The sea was various shades of blue and upon approaching Buck Island it took on that stunning turquoise color. Seems the recipe for this color palette is sunlight, water clarity, depth, and a white sandy floor! Anchoring on the western side of the Island, we would commence our first snorkeling adventure.

Our first stop was proximate to the underwater trail. Provided with snorkleing gear and with Captain Carl as our guide, we entered a shallow lagoon and followed a series of submerged plaques identifying surrounding marine life and coral formations. Sounds lovely and serene and it might well have been for the others. BUT, since I was not a skilled snorkeler, I was about to embark on a not so gentle glide through the water and definitely not an effortless and graceful adventure. My primary take away from this experience was definitely a lot of sputtering and choking on sea water.

Feeling quite fashionable in my mask and snorkel in my new swim togs, I finally managed to get the flippers on while bobbing around in the water and then, somehow miraculously, I was able to get the mask on my face and relatively water tight, thus avoiding bathing my eyes in sea water. I followed our group and guide towards the trail and naturally I was trailing the group and trying to keep up, see what was below, and keep an eye out for the red and white life ring being dragged forward by Captain Carl. Every time I saw an underwater marker I had this unconscious need to peer at it closer and plunged my face deeper and of course sucked in vast amounts of sea water. Not once, lesson learned, but several time over the course of the course!. I was desperately trying to enjoy this journey through coral gardens, grottoes and a reef teaming with marine life but secretly was glad that I did not get lost in a coral cavern and made it back to the boat.

I had resurrected my trusty Olympus waterproof and shockproof camera so I would capture dazzling the underwater world of tropical fish and coral. Seems I was better a capturing butts and flippers than fish. As for the fish, they remained a a speck in the distance.

Subsequently, we then sailed over to Buck Island’s Turtle Beach and had about 1.5 hours to spend there. Not one for lying on the beach and not wanting a repeat that snorkel experience again this day, I opted for hiking the trail on Buck Island with Tasia, Nick, and Luke. Forewarned about a massive bees nest at the trailhead which we thankfully avoided. and after picking our way across slimy rocks, the hike was short (1.28 miles) but also challenging as it winds up a dry rocky hillside through native vegetation including cacti, sea grapes and turpentine trees. I was surprised by the feeling that I was hiking in a wild, Caribbean desert and dry forest, something I did not associate with tropical islands. And as with desert hiking, by the time I reached the overlook it looked like I had opted for the bathing on the beach option. The path was narrow and a bit rugged for my tendency to find every “trippin” rock and root”but I did stay upright. . It was replete with buzzing insects and hermit crabs toting around there borrowed shells. Turk’s Cap Cactus were of special interest named for its red “cap” that resembles a Turkish fez and the crown sporting small tubular pink flowers.

Atop, the reward was stunning views of the reef, resembling a necklace surrounding the Island, rolling hills and the distant shoreline of St. Croix.. What a contrast this day was with both hiking over this cactus studded Island and swimming in coral garden teaming with marine life.

It ended at the beach with a short walk back to Captain Carl’s salt-sprayed sailing craft and a breezy ride “home” to relax, enjoy a simple dinner in the outdoor dining area , and then a short walk to a beach access near our VRBO. I had hope to dip my toes in the water as I imagined a tropical sandy beach but found it was rocky, coral strew and draped with a thick mat of seaweed (sargassum) to wade through. Not tonight. The view by night though from the beach of St. Croix glowing across the water however was quite a lovely site.

Where the Streets are “Paved” with Roosters and Jewelry Stores

July 17, 2025uniquelytheo2 Comments

Upon stepping off the plane at the Cyril E. King Airport in St. Thomas, I soon realized I was stepping into a different world marked by warm salt-scented Caribbean air, a definitive culture, and the bustle of the port of Charlotte Amalie. With luggage collected, we took a ride share taxi from the airport to our hotel, the Windward Passage. The ride itself was the real beginning of the adventure as the driver quickly merged onto Waterfront Drive staying to the left lanes since vehicles drive on the left of on the narrow roads of St. Thomas (remnants of the British Colonial past). Though a short drive, we were served up views of the Charlotte Amalie harbor, palm trees, colorful buildings that climb the hillsides, old colonial buildings, warehouses, narrow streets, and a harrowing closeness to other vehicles.

Our hotel for the one night here was the Windward Passage, an aging relic that has seen better days, situated along the harbor front just a short distance from the downtown area of shops and almost directly across from the Blyden Ferry terminal which we would be departing from on the morrow for St. Croix. The convenience is hard to beat as we could walk the short distance the next day hauling our suitcases to this terminal. No ride share of rental vehicle. So it proved to be adequate lodging and did not devour the whole checking account balance at $225.00 a nightly vs The Westin @ $612.00 or The Ritz-Carlton St. Thomas @ $1011.00. It has definitely seen many better days and would not have been a good choice had I anticipated a luxury Caribbean escape. NOT the case.

Convenience and expediency though is not of concern to my grandson Luke. Luke will devour the reviews for just about any property or activity we might encounter and of course focus mostly on the 0 or 1 star entries. From son Nick’s blog, as he recounted Lukes take: “But DAD! This one says that there were obvious prostitutes in the alley behind the hotel!” To make matters worse, according to Nick, their room was, as Luke quickly informed him, overlooking “Prostitute Alley. ” Of course the hotel was “dodgy” (one of his favorite words.).

Upon my arrival, the hoped for tranquil atmosphere was pre-empted by a bone jarring rhythmic thumping of calypso music spewed from a speaker in the rear alley. Once in my room it was of minimal consequence. I peered through the salt-encrusted sliding glass door at a baseball filed below and could have a slim view of the harbor if I stepped out on the not very useful narrow balcony which was not wide enough for a chair. But we settled comfortably in our room with its outdated decor, well worn furnishings, and worn carpets. Nick, Luke and Miriam were on the alley side and definitely decided to have their room moved mostly because of the music since it could have been quite interesting evening sideshow to observe the goings on in “Prostitute Alley” later.

We opted to go to “The French Quarter” for dinner and ate at the French Quarter Bistro serving a fusion of French, American , Caribbean and Creole dishes. Being in the French Quarter, I, by necessity, had to order French Onion Soup. I especially enjoyed the walk to and from this destination as it was partially along the waterfront area, a mixture of small shops and cafe’s, and an architectural shift to pastel home with wrought iron balconies. Of particular interest to Luke was the McDonald’s we passed in this area which did not look at all like any mainland McDonald’s . Perhaps an imposter????

We all (but Nick) headed back to the hotel. Nick headed out to explore the area which in my younger days would also have been something I would be doing as well but thought better of trying to keep up with my oldest “child” this evening who definitely follows in his mother’s footsteps.

The next morning Tasia and I headed out in search of a market to buy some makings for a healthy breakfast. Much to my dismay the strong stomach which I boasted of in years gone by has been replace by someone else’s sensitive digestion system which now demands a healthy breakfast of oatmeal, banana, milk etc. unless I want to spend the day in search of public bathrooms. So we found a market a couple blocks away and headed back to the motel to eat in our not so elegant room. Afterwards we met up with the Honimills (a nick name for Nick’s family) and we commenced our walking tour of the Charlotte Amalie tourist district.

Of great fascination to me was the vibrant colors of the islands architecture with the red tiled roofs, pastel painted walls, arched doorways and the Danish shutters (wooden louvered window covers painted in bold colors). . Historic Fort Christian, with its very distinctive red brick walls, is no longer needed to guard against pirates and raids by foreigners and thus has been repurposed as a museum. It is designated as a US National Historic Landmark and thus the requisite picture in front of it. Additionally, should I ever return to Charlotte Amalie, I learned that had I wanted a really old room instead of an aging worn out modern room, I might have stayed at the Hotel 1829 with its “real” vintage furnishings and decor.

Though there are many remarkable things to note about Charlotte Amalie, such as the historic Fort Christian, the scenic harbor, the Danish architecture, the most memorable for me is the “Jewelry Jungle. ” The downtown area was no salmagundi of one-of-a-kind specialty stores , where you can find unique creations and local products but a glittering gauntlet of jewelry stores with their diamonds rings , gold chains, gemstones, luxury watches … all nestled within their cases in air conditioned shops while their proprietors stand in the doorway beckoning one to step inside. I really only needed sunscreen or to invest in some cheap trinket emblazoned with St. Thomas on its exterior (the exact same trinket I bought on my last trip with the St. Louis Arch emblazoned on it). The man in the white guayabera shirt promised me the best price on diamonds in the Caribbean and his store had been voted #1 on the Island! I managed to escape his clutches and those of the 40 + jewelry hawkers on Main Street with pocketbook unscathed only to find myself tripping over the chickens and rooster which roam freely through the streets.

Having successfully escaped the bauble hustlers, I thoroughly enjoyed traversing the stone and concrete promenade that hugs the harbor and thus was protected by a four lane heavily trafficked thoroughfare.from the Charlotte Amalie sales force on the other side. There was but one floating city, the Carnival Venezia, with a 4000 passengers capacity . It seemed to me that the cruise goers were totally immersed in their pretend Piazza San Marco experience that there were a scant few on the streets .

We headed back into the cobble streets of the town for a thirst quencher and before long it was time to trudge back to the hotel, retrieve our luggage (from that dodgy hotel) and catch the 3:00 pm ferry to St. Croix. With about an hour before we needed to go to the ferry terminal, we decided to take up residence in the hotel lobby. Whether the multi-purposed porter, concierge, parking lot attendant did not want us loitering in the lobby or perhaps he was grateful for the nice tip he received for storing our luggage, he bade us follow him to across the courtyard to the business center which had baskets of snacks (which we descended upon like vultures) and chilled water. Best of all were the electrical outlets so we could charge up our devices in case we got marooned at sea on the way to St. Croix during that “lengthy” 2 hour ride.