Headstone: "I don't get mad, I get even"

I got a good sleep. It felt so great. I woke up thinking I should have been up already, but it was only 5 am. Wonderful, I can sleep for another 5 hours or so.

The maid knocked on my door around 930 and I finally peeled myself out of bed at 10. Went and got breakfast and to my surprise it was excellent; made to order and free. I sat by the ocean and took it all in. It was beautiful in the daylight. I was lounging for a while, and completely enjoying the lounging, and started talking to an Indian guy sitting right in the front foyer. He traveled quite a bit with his shipping company and we both spoke about the beauty and appreciation we both have for traveling. I wanted to go for a walk, and he joined me.

We discovered the old fort in the town, cobblestones and street lanterns, old churches and restored houses, and some that had never been restored…. goats, cows, salamanders and parrots running wild on the streets, as well as a dog that looked like it was homeless and smelled terrible but had a collar around its’ neck. There were a couple old graveyards including one with a headstone that read “I don’t get mad, I get even.” Well then! We picked a mango off of a fully stocked mango tree. 90% of the cars that went by waved at us but still didn’t slow down enough or move away from our side of the road enough to think they weren’t about to hit us. There were no sidewalks, and the roads were curvy and unpaved enough that they should have been going slow. We discovered the old port trading town down by the water (basically next to my hotel) which still has stone frames that stand at the very beginning of the tide, and sometimes the water rushes into the frames. The tide must not have come up as high as it does now. I bought a tiny town map from a white lady who was St. Eustatius second generation and who would be the last. She told me she told the townspeople that she was retiring and was going to sell her shop but even so, no one sought to replace her and the goods she brought to the tiny town.

When we got back to the bar, we cut open the mango the Indian guy had picked from the tree. It was utterly delicious. He was leaving the island, and as he did; Helen or Helga or whatever her name was (temporary hotel manager/cross the street bar manager) said to me “tell me”, meaning what can I get you? Nothing for now, I kinda wanted to figure out my next move. So I started up another conversation with a guy I met at the bar who worked on a ship, and before long we were going to get dinner together. Hell why not right?

I decided to get my bathing suit on. I don’t know if I was going for a swim but I wanted the option to. I stuck my feet in the warm water and then took a walk along the tiny, black sand beach and picked up some seaglass and seashells. I watched the sun disappear amongst the cloudy sky, which had downpoured off and on during the day. But the pleasant type of downpour, the ones that lasts less than a minute and moves on. I felt like I was in Jurassic park, but the middle of nowhere, maybe on a deserted island. What a cool feeling it was. What a fun place to explore. Steve, the guy who works on the ship wanted to go for a dip in the water so I went with him. It was a beautiful night and it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be to jump off the pier and touch the bottom of the sand in the dark night without knowing what was down there.

We got ready for dinner and headed out by foot. We walked up a really steep path that lead to upper town and had one light to lead the way. Thank goodness Steve had flashlights. We were sure to be slipping the whole way down. We found the Cool Corner, and that it was. A popular local hangout, and as I was promised, some of the best food on the island. I expected cheap Chinese, but it really was the good stuff. I got garlic shrimp and it was fresh; from the shrimp to the vegetables to the sticky rice. Actually well worth the $16 I paid for it. There were a tourist Dutch couple to the far left, a local with long dreads to my immediate left, and then another couple (who weren’t together) to my right; both with dreads. Lady is from the US though, her father’s family is from here and she was restoring their family’s house. Interesting night. Rasta man to my left clearly was into me, he sketched me out a bit. His first words to me were “can I have a bite” (of my meal I had just received). Ummm… no? I tried to be discreet that I had to pay for my dinner with a $100 bill but smart Steve called me out on it. I later told him I was trying to be discreet, come on now. For someone who had traveled to Africa and Jamaica amongst other places you would think he would know better! Rasta man told us about growing up in the “ghetto”, how his bro was addicted to smoking rock before their mom died, and how he had never had an interest in doing drugs. Well good. But, this island was practically crime-free and I didn’t want to do anything to encourage the start of it. And on top of it, I didn’t like the way this guy was looking at me. I have a feeling that by the end of this week I might be seen around town so much they may consider me an honorary local.