We’re not sure what will happen next with our return journey. Last check on the UK met office’s dedicated page for JFK implied the weather was going to be delayed until after we’ve left, let’s hope! Having said that the flight from Sint Maarten has been pushed forwards and we’re in the air sooner than expected.
Before our flight, we watch as we slowly cruise into the port of Phillipsburgh, parking alongside the same Star Clipper (Flyer) and Carnival (Fascination) vessels we saw exactly two weeks ago at the start of this wonderful adventure. We take our last breakfast on our balcony, whilst the folks of the clipper are drinking from polystyrene cups and dragging on cigarettes at their open-deck cafe several floors below us. Then it’s immigration, which is held onboard and quite painless, before we vacate our home of two weeks and head for the terminal building, saying more goodbyes as we leave.
Claiming our luggage, we quickly get all the toiletries into their rightful suitcase (luggage is collected the night before, so we still have wash-bags to sort) and then hand them over to the bus-driver who’s taking us ultimately to the airport. Before then we’ve opted for a short island tour available to people with later flights. It's always difficult on disembarkation day, dealing with having no room, coping with baggage and it’s security, and being dressed for the destination at the other end of the day, so the ‘transfer tour’ is a good option in this case.
We’re getting an animated talk from Jimmy our driver, an Indonesian heritage Surinamian who’s lived on Sint Maarten for over twenty years (you’ll identify the Dutch connection there?) He’s quite entertaining and very knowledgeable as he winds around the island pointing out many interesting sites and sights. Of course, as well as Dutch there’s the French thing going on, and how crazy that on an island so small, it’s divided between two quite separate countries ... as Jimmy points out, with two telephone companies, two electricity providers, two currencies, two languages!
In fact the last two examples are even more complex since the Dollar and English are also readily used, except of course, guess which side? Oh and there are three police forces, since they both have their own West Indies force and a separate Gendamirie sent over from the motherland.
Having said all that, there’s no border, and we pass freely from Holland to France, as you’d expect when moving across Europe anyway. We spend some time in the French capital Marigot. It happily coincides with elevenses so we take the opportunity to revisit a lovely patisserie we found in 2012 for a delicious pear and frangipani tarte. We take a wander round the market, run entirely by Haitians for the cruise industry, which is huge here. Apparently there are rarely any days during the season when there are no ships, and many days up to eight can be in port at a time. As tourism now represents 85% of the island’s income, that’s obviously a great success.
One surprise is the huge orange lizards that are local to the island, perched high in trees as we drive round. Soon we’re at our penultimate stop, an ice-cream parlour with a carousel, curious but clearly very successful judging by the photos of celebrity parsonage plastered all round. We wander down to the nearby harbour whilst our fellow travelers are enthralled.
We’re still early at the airport, but get our bags checked and then wander for a while before braving security which turned out to be fairly easy. There’s no lounge since the terminal is still being rebuilt after Irma, so we sit st the gate and hubby buys us a sandwich. This is possibly the most expensive ever, €36 for two lots of ham & cheese sandwich and Diet Coke - we can only hope the profits are going to the rebuilding fund!
Our first flight on American gets off early, there’s still the threat of weather in New York, and we have a pleasant if rather chaotic flight which gets in early, and although there’s a light dusting of snow when we venture outside to Airtrain between terminals, nothing to worry us for our transatlantic later.
The BA lounge in Terminal Seven is huge and even has a dedicated restaurant area for long-haul flights, but it’s a bit too early so we don’t bother at this stage, just make do with a Chardonnay! Soon we’re onboard a Jumbo and ready to get going.
Things start lovely, but it’s not long before we realise that being in the centre two seats, were served from different aisles. Hubby’s aperitif arrives, then his starter, and still I have nothing. When mine arrives he’s finished and ready for mains.
I complain to the stewardess, and send back my starter, suddenly there’s three people waiting on us and begrudgingly, the remainder of the service is now in sync.
After a pleasant breakfast (together!) we’re back at Heathrow, and 38 minutes after leaving the gate we’re on the M25 heading homie - a new record!
Comments
Post a Comment