Transition Day - Thursday July 10

This morning was very confusing. Last night on our drive home from the O Corner incident, Suzanne and I had a bit of a disagreement on whether anyone I had dated recently and subjected my friends to (read: the jackass who I brought to Bequia) was as annoying as The Ambassador. I still think she wins the most annoying companion award but then again, its hard for me to be unbiased on that one. I thought I shielded the jackass-ness to the best of my ability in Bequia, but thinking back, the only reason it probably wasn't as painful was because there were more guests, so no one person other than me really had to deal with him. Anyhoo - although Suze had previously planned to change her flight arrangements to stay through the end of the week, she proclaimed when she walked in the door that she should just go home because she didn't want to cause any more trouble. She also proclaimed that we should drink the 2 bottles of wine that were in the fridge. Of course shortly after we arrived home, she went straight to sleep.

I wasn't sure how to approach the day when we all got up today - "Hey chickie, are you leaving? I need to know because I have a spa appointment" didn't seem appropriate so I just said nothing and ran across the street to find out what time my appointment was at Isle de France. When they said that I didn't have one (The Ambassador had made it for me), I was confused, although they told me to check back when the spa opened in 15 minutes. So I returned home for a snack, and as soon as Paul asked Suze "Are you staying?", a flurry of activity began at the Villa Finistere-turned-travel agency. Both she and Paul tried their hardest to rearrange their plans so that (1) Suzanne could stay until Saturday and (2) Paul could fly with me back to San Juan.

Sadly, neither of them succeeded. Apparently changing your flight plans isn't as easy as it once was and will cost you your first born. So back to the original plan it was and I thought I would try the spa again to see if a massage was in my immediate future. It in fact was, so I quickly ran back to say goodbye to Suzanne then back again to the spa for 90 minutes of heaven. This made the Le Toiny experience seem like kind of a joke. I began with a self-serve mud treatment in the steam room for 20 minutes, followed by a relaxing shower. Then on to the massage, which was fabulous. This massage was not in a hut, but in a real spa treatment room with all the fixins. When it was done, the masseuse actually told me it was done, she got extra points for that. She turned the massage table into a chair and sat me up, telling me to stay put and to wait for her to bring some refreshments. A few minutes later she arrived with a trio of sorbets and some cold water. That was a new one on me - loved it! That indulgence was followed by yet another rain shower and I cleaned up before having my 3 course lunch in the hotel restaurant (included with the price of the massage! only 95 euros - a steal!)

Paul joined me for lunch, and, as seems to be the trend here in July, we were two of only a few people there. I love it though, having it all to myself. If you can't relax like this you have serious issues.

Some pics of Isle de France:



casual area for drinks:

Pool 1:


Pool 2:


Paul being cool guy:


After lunch, the activity options were few: beach or shop. I know neither of those really appeal to most men, but I talked Paul into doing beach. We headed out to find Gouvenor (or however you spell it) beach, but after a wrong turn or 2, we ended up by Saline instead. Our detour took us to parts of the island I had not seen before and they were not very pretty or developed. It was just odd to have seen so much going on in other areas then suddenly it was barren, as well as some sort of swamp. There was a fine italian restaurant near saline (and the swamp) but I would be kind of scared to go there this time of year because there is nothing over there. Perhaps I should check it out again "in the season" as T.A. would say.

Saline, known for its nude sunbathers, required a short hike and once we made it over the sand dune I think I heard angels sing - it was a huge - repeat - huge - white, fine sand beach with water as clear as it gets. And once in the water, the sea floor was like walking on fine carpet, very soothing to the feet. Amazing. Pictures don't really convey, but here is a try:





I ventured to the left end of the beach and apparently that is where all the naked people are. Naked people who take very good care of their bodies. But I could have done without the guy in the cove of rocks at the end who was doing situps naked. What is that about?

Then the dinner selection: The Hideaway in St. Jean. Billed as one of the best values on the island with great pizza and a super casual atmosphere. I knew we had it casual when I heard "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" in the background. At $100 for 2 beers, 2 salads, 2 pizzas, and one dessert, I guess it was a value for St. Barts, wait, St. Barth, standards. I wasn't loving it though. I guess I haven't been too impressed with either of our casual pizza choices (Le Bouchon and this place), don't get me wrong, the pizza is good (with Hideways being much better, less greasy) and super fresh, but I was getting kind of used to the super gourmet stuff we had been having elsewhere. I think you call that spoiled. And soon I would also be calling it "getting fat".