Fantasy Island in the form of St. Maarten still calls to me since my return yesterday.

Fantasy Island in the form of St. Maarten still calls to me since my return yesterday.

Although I was in a storm of some proportion for part of my stay I fell in love with a thirty-seven-square mile island formed from the lava of an erupting volcano. All the brightly colored homes were beautiful and the people were wonderful. The roads were uncompromising straight up or down those beautiful mountains which start rising from sea level. It sounds as if its true love doesn’t it? And it is.

They say that the island has one road around it and it does. I only saw one stop light and two stop signs with very few police on the French Side. Guess they need the police because of all the turn-around-islands and the honking horns. Riding there is different. There are so many drivers that when one wants to turn they do, even if it’s left. Otherwise they may not get across the road. People, I learned, most often stop.

It took about three days for me to get on St. Martin time but when I did the relaxation was delightful until I started thinking of coming home the day before I was supposed to do so just seven days later.

A new passion was developed while there called snorkeling. Since I’d never done it before I thought it might be daunting but after entering the water, getting still and looking down at two stunning foot-long squid ruffling in the watery breeze, I fell in love. Then the huge angel fish and other types schooling in the forty-foot deep water just sealed the deal.

I have to go back as soon as possible but since it’s been years since I’ve taken a vacation I’d hope it won’t be that long again. Until then I’ll be thinking of the scenic ocean, the odors, waves crashing into shore right below my friend, Connie’s, timeshare, listening to the sounds of Reggae from Beau Beau’s and the welcoming people.

It was a psychic experience all the way.

Da Juana

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