St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Four: Cruzan Distillery & Captain Morgan Factory Tours)

DAY FOUR:  Tuesday, 7 August 2012

            Today I still had my morning breakfast strawberry cereal bar with the sunrise, but I didn’t walk along the shore as much as I’d intended.  During my walk, I encountered a local Rasta named Andrew, who was hanging out in front of the resort.  (There’s a small access road which separates the Palms from the neighboring Hibiscus resort.)  I don’t completely trust strangers, so I stopped my walk in front of the dining area of the Palms.  Andrew told me a lot of his life-story, and I said very little of mine.  Never give out information unless you know how it was to be used.  Meeting someone on the beach is a little different than talking to someone on an airplane, especially when that person is obviously not a guest or hotel staff.

We stood and talked for about a half-hour, and Andrew seemed to be a nice guy.  He taught me the “island salute,” which was a three-step hand-clasp.  You do a pseudo-handshake (positioned similar the way arm-wrestlers grasp their opponents), followed by a finger-clasp (so you nails meet the interior of the other person’s first joint), and then a fist-bump.  We did that a couple times to get the rhythm correct.  Andrew then exited the beach by the causeway, and I made along sweep up along the beach just to make sure he’d left the area before heading back to my room.

Once I had my morning swim in, and was cleaned up, today’s objective was the Cruzan Rum Distillery.  I made sure to wear my “Rum Therapy” shirt specifically for that purpose.  The road map was easy to navigate (and even had the vicinity of the factory marked).  I went west down Route 70, then south at the second intersection of Route 64.  (Just for your informational purposes, the first intersection of Route 64 would take you across the highway, Route 66, and then further south to the airport.  64 would then continue on for a bit before looping back around to 70 again.)

I turned down the side road where I’d seen the sign for “Cruzan Rum” on the left.  Immediately after turning, I saw what appeared to be a warehouse on the right.  There were no signs, but I pulled in and asked where I needed to go for the factory tour.  The man told me to go back to the highway, make a left (go east), and then make a right at the fourth light.  That didn’t sound correct to me, but hey, I’m the visitor.

The damn instructions brought me to the Captain Morgan factory!  Not my primary destination.  But since I was there, I figured I would do that tour, and then find the Cruzan distillery later.

From the outside, the visitor’s center was a one-story white modern-looking square building, with the company logo on it.  Behind the chain-link fence was a bunch of large vats, with lots of piping going from those to a large white warehouse-like structure.  There was only one other car in the lot.  After quickly munching a Kashi bar (as the time was near appropriate), I went inside, and got signed up for the tour which would start in about ten minutes (at the top of the hour).  There were some displays and tapestries just off the lobby, and the receptionist said I could read those in-depth, as the tour would only cover the information there briefly.  I was also given two “silver” (plastic) coins, which I’d use to “purchase” drinks in the lounge after the tour.

I thought I was going to be the only person on the tour, then three ladies showed up.  From the comments the receptionist made, one of the three ladies was underage (said she was seventeen), so she wasn’t issued any “silver coins.”  I introduced myself, and then we handed cameras back and forth so we could have our pictures taken in front of the giant Captain Morgan statue.  I learned the other two ladies were the younger’s mom and grandmother (who appeared that she was still on the youthful side).  The mom was probably in her late 30s or early 40s.  As it turned out, they were from outside of Dallas (in Southlands).  That was the second group from Texas I’d met since being here.

The grandmother (Jean) was a resident of the island, and her spouse was the attorney Jay Stucki.  Of course some of that came out in the standard chit-chat before the tour, and some in the lounge afterwards (more on that in a moment).  The mom’s name was Nancy, and her daughter was Megan.  They got a chuckle when I said I was from Round Rock.  Megan commented that her father lives near “where Round Rock meets Hutto and Pflugerville.”  Can you name a place that’s any closer than where I live?  Holy crap!

The Captain Morgan tour started with a brief history of rum in the Caribbean (detailed on the first set of tapestries), followed by a brief history of the company (which was noted on the second set of tapestries), including how the factory just moved here two years ago from Puerto Rico.  As the receptionist, who was also the tour guide, gave this information, I recalled the comments Andrew had made about the Captain Morgan factory earlier that day.  Andrew had nothing good to say about them, as they apparently brought there own work force with them.  I found that interesting.  The factory in Puerto Rico continued to operate full-swing, and this was a satellite operation.  We then watched a short film, probably about ten-to-fifteen minutes long, which was pretty much the making of the most recent marketing campaigns.

Then we went outside, and got on a small tram.  Another couple joined our tour group at that time.  We were then driven around the factory to be sown how things were done.  Here were the vats that processed the sugar cane, here’s where the pipes condensed the steam back into liquid, etc.  Most of the rum-making process we were “told” (as opposed to being “shown”).  Things were pointed out and explained, but it was all done form a distance.  We could see the containers the rum was stored in, but the closest we were able to get was about 100 feet.  The tram ride ended up only really taking us around the area next to the parking lot.  Considering how short of a distance it was, we probably could’ve simply walked it.

While the rum is produced here, and then placed into wooden barrels, it is not bottled here.  After aging in the barrels (as the wood helps give it that particular taste), the rum is transferred to large metal containers.  These containers are then shipped to Florida, where it’s bottled.  It’s actually cheaper it to do it that way, as the bottles were manufactured in the States.  Why ship empty bottles to the islands, only to fill them and ship them back to the mainland?

We were told Captain Morgan built their warehouse to store the rum right next to the warehouses where Cruzan stored their product.  Our tour guide said that’s because “We’re all friends in the rum business.”  That explains how I turned at the Cruzan sign, and was given the directions which brought me to Captain Morgan.

There was also a huge vat of distilled water, which was used in the rum-making process.  The tour guide mentioned how many thousands of gallons this thing contained.  She also noted the Captain Morgan had an agreement with the island that in a time of emergency, that could be provided as a source of fresh drinking water.

After the tram ride, we were brought back inside to where the lounge was, so we could get our two free sample drinks (one for each “silver coin” we had).  At least in Nancy’s case, she was able to have an additional drink, as Jean only used one of her coins.  Megan got free soda at least.  The first drink I had was the spiced rum with papaya punch, laced with cinnamon.  Very good.  The second I had was a mix of rum, Coke, and lime juice.  An okay variation.  While we sat in the lounge, between drinks, was where the majority of our chit-chatting took place.

The lounge was an elongated triangle shape, with the bar on one side, and a group of small tables (each looked like a compass) on the other.  There were monitors in the corner, which were tuned into the current Olympic events.  The receptionist (and tour guide) commented they have office parties there.  It was nicely laid out, but had a very corporate feel to it.

Jean gave me her husband’s business card, which had a Christiansted address, and I thanked her for that.  Figured if I got back down to Christiansted this week, I’d stop in and say hi (but he probably wouldn’t tell me anything that I hadn’t already learned).  As it was Nancy and Megan’s first time down on the island, Jean was showing them around.  They rattled off a couple places to check out for lunch in Frederiksted, as well as a shop they said “was the best place to get ice cream” on the island.  They were all very nice and sociable, especially after they heard my idea to relocate here.

Now since the factory had only been in operation for about a year, the rum they had available at the lounge was what actually had been produced in this factory.  Sorry, Jim.  No Private Stock was available here yet (as it needs to age at least two years).  The gift shop next to the lounge was still “in progress,” too.  While there was some glassware (no shot glasses, though), and shirts, there was nothing that was St. Croix specific.  I saw no reason to spend money on a “generic” Captain Morgan item.  If I’m going to get a souvenir, I want it to say where I was.

After we’d finished our drinks in the lounge, we stood out in the parking lot, and took a few more pictures of the area.  Jean, Nancy, and Megan had other plans for the day, so they declined my suggestion we should all go for lunch.  We left the factory at the same time.  Can’t say I made as good as a connection I’d had on other attempts with people here, but I at least had a business card from a resident that I could send a resume to.

Now it was time to back-track the way I’d come before in order to locate the Cruzan Distillery.  I wasn’t hungry at the moment, and stopping off someplace for lunch would’ve been nice.  I hadn’t noticed any as I cruised down the highway.  I figured I could probably wait a little bit.  I had gotten a bottle of water at Captain Morgan (spiked with my Pink Crack) to provide some much needed hydration.  That was the only money I spent at the Captain Morgan gift shop, as I wanted to spend my money on the locally-produced Cruzan.

While the Captain Morgan factory was all pretty and polished with that corporate veneer, the Cruzan distillery was the complete opposite.  If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve simply been passing a farm.  Past where the Captain Morgan warehouse was, just a little further down the road (on the left side), were some old Colonial-style buildings, what looked to be a grain tower, and some storage silos.

The little guard house was the only thing to show you from the road it wasn’t a farm.  This place was both historical and operational.  Past the sea-green colored two-story farm-house structure (which were the Cruzan business offices) was an area with an old sugar mill turret, with the seven flags of the countries which have owned St. Croix.  The flag for USVI was on the same pole as the American flag, but under it.

The lounge where the tour would begin (and end) was an open-sided covered porch with some hammocks and wicker furniture, which opened on to a room where the bar and gift shop room were.  The Cruzan tour was only half the cost of the Captain Morgan one, and already I could tell it would be better.  As Captain Morgan was all corporate, this was a “lived-in” look, which was inviting and reflected the local atmosphere.  I had pretty good timing, and I was to be the only one in my tour group.

My guide was Neva, who said she’d only been working here since she turned 21 last year.  Her joke was that her big experience with alcohol was working for a distillery.  We walked around the area, going from building to building, as she described each part of the rum-making process.  The process was the same as what I’d heard earlier that day, but the presentation was much more interesting.

We took stairs up to cat-walks, stepped over piping, and through a couple of alleys between buildings.  The vats of the boiling sugar cane and molasses were open, so you could smell them, and close enough to put your hand in them (if you so choose).  We stood in arm’s reach of the guys opening the wooden casks to drain the rum out of them, and the scent of rum-soaked oak-chips from inside the barrels was nice.  And in the storage warehouse, where there were hundreds of casks filled with aging rum, you could actually reach out and touch the barrels.  I had Neva take a picture of me hugging a tower of barrels.

The barrels were painted white on top, and each time they were used, a green stripe was marked.  This allowed the barrels to be marked, and after about a dozen uses, the barrels would be broken down (as they’d lost their potency to flavor the rum).  After coming out of the fermentation vats, there’s a layer “sludge” of cane residue which floats on the top, which is strained off before being placed in the barrels.  (That’s why the boiling vats are open.)  While Captain Morgan mixes most of the sludge back into their product, Cruzan dumps it into a pipe which goes all the way to the coast.  Since it’s a by-product of the cane, the sludge is consumed by the turtles and other aquatic life near where the pipe comes out.

I asked Neva if there were any thoughts of actually turning it into some sort of animal feed or fertilizer which could be used by local farmers.  She said she’d have to ask about that.  The sludge also contains most of the remnants of the fermentation, which contributes to what causes hangovers.  Neva said because it’s filtered out of Cruzan, not only does it give it a smoother taste, but it reduces the dehydration factor while retaining the alcohol percentage.

When emptied out of the barrels, the Cruzan Rum was then placed into large containers, which are shipped to the mainland for bottling.  Neva said they started doing this about five years ago, and then about two years ago Cruzan was acquired by Jim Beam.  This greatly increased their distribution across the States.  Every flavor of Cruzan is produced out of this single facility, but bottled in Kentucky.  Some of the bottles are then shipped back to the Distillery for sale in the gift shop.

This was a far more hands-on and personal tour, and in my opinion, the much better of the two.  We returned to the lounge, where the bartender (James) poured me a mix of pineapple rum with pineapple juice.  That single drink had more alcohol than the two I’d gotten at Captain Morgan, and it went down much smoother.  I was invited to sample as much as I wanted (as there were shot-glass-sized tasting cups at the bar).  Oh, how I wanted to have much more.  I did mention to James that not only was I driving, but I’d done the other tour too, so I had to slow my intake down.  I let James and Neva know how much better I thought this tour was.  As I sat at the bar, James and I chatted a bit on a casual nature.  It would’ve been nice to have him take a picture of my hanging at the bar, but it was nice just be sociable, and not act like a tourist.

One of the couples from the previous tour was still sitting at the bar when I’d finished mine, and they over-heard me telling James about the Rum Experiment I’d done last year.  Because I’d mentioned Dr. Pepper, the couple must’ve picked up on that, and asked me where I was from.  Turns out they were from San Antonio.  What the frak?  Was there an invasion from Texas going on this week?  Dr. Pepper may be a Texas-born drink, but it usually is found in other parts of the country (just not here).

I downed another bottle of water as I sat at Cruzan bar for a bit for the body to process the booze I had.  Watched another tour group form, and depart.  I’d previously had this idea of maybe driving over some of the other roads in the western hills before going back to the Palms.  But at this point, it wouldn’t be the wise thing.  I had a pretty good buzz going on, and I was very hungry.

After leaving the Cruzan distillery, I went back along Route 70 back towards the Palms (as I knew that road pretty well now).  I pulled into the campus of the University at Virgin Islands, since it was on the way back.  I’d wanted to check this out anyway during the visit here.  Figured I might be able to score some food at their student center, and pick up some information or things from their campus store.  Notice I did say “pulled in,” as the campus layout was confusing.  I couldn’t find where the visitor parking was, much less where the student center or campus store would be.  There wasn’t anyone hanging about outside that I could stop and ask.

University at VI appeared to about as large as Adirondack Community College when I went there the first time (1988-1990), and that included what buildings appeared to be dorms.  Being early August, it was probably between semesters.  Since it didn’t appear I’d find any sustenance here, I got back on the road and headed for the Palms.

On that first night I’d come in, even after dark, I noticed two BBQ joints which were pretty close to the Palms, so I wanted to give them a try.  I stopped into first one on the way back, but the parking lot was taken up by some delivery trucks, so I couldn’t find any place to park.  That place looked like a small kitchen, and a pavilion which covered a pool table and a seating area.  Almost a St. Croix version of Rudy’s, except with loud reggae music playing.  I couldn’t see much more than that, as I’d been looking for the non-existent parking.  I went on to the next place.

This was called Blues Backyard BBQ Pit.  It was on a corner lot, where a food trailer had been set up in the yard next to a house, and the yard had picnic tables scattered about.  The owners were from New Hampshire, and they would still go back for a couple weeks every year to ski.  The bathroom was covered with bumper stickers from various ski lodges in NH; not something I expected to see in VI.  I got a brisket sandwich, which had come right off the pit behind the food trailer.  I ate as “Mustang Sally” played on the loud speaker.  Not bad, tasty and filling.

Still having a good buzz going on from two rum tours, back at the Palms I chilled at the bar for a bit and chatted with Steve and some of the Houston bunch.  We talked about some of the critters we’d seen here, from the requisite pelicans (which is what gives the resort its name), and the geckos which are crawling around (at least none of them tried to sell us insurance).  I’ve reported in addition to a cat I saw going slinking by one night, I’ve seen some white sand crabs, no wider than my hand, go scuttling by on the beach in the morning, as well as some smaller crabs I’d seen also, which were no larger than my thumb.  Perhaps they were a small hermit crab.

Steve made some comments about the number of bottles of water they’d been buying so his group had something to drink back at the room.  I said I didn’t have that issue, because I’d been filling up the ice bucket, letting that melt, and pouring it back into the couple bottles I’d gotten so I’d have water with me.  He said it wasn’t smart to drink the water in some overseas location.  I told him that while this could probably be considered “overseas” in some manner, all information I’d read was the water was fit to drink here because it came through a de-salination plant.  Steve’s response was that I’d start feeling the affects within three days.  I’d been around enough, even various places within the U.S., if I had something which wasn’t going to agree with me, I’d know in a matter of hours.  I wasn’t having any issues at all.

The Summer Olympics were on the television at the bar, so we were able to catch the highlights of the beach volleyball, and some of the other events.  We did have a side discussion about with all the countries competing in the events, it was odd to see Puerto Rico there as there own team (as it was a territory the way Virgin Islands was, not it’s own country).  It made me think of the last time I’d gotten to watch the Summer Olympics was, interestingly enough, when I was on holiday in Arizona back in 2008.

After having my nightly cold cuts, around dinner time, I headed back to the bar for my daily rum punch.  Since I’d eaten in the room, I wasn’t hungry, but I thought about getting an appetizer if I wanted one.  Willie was back behind the bar tonight.  Sid came wandering by, as the rest of his group had gone their separate ways while he was napping (so he was feeling abandoned).  I let him know I’d seen Maddie and Mark at the dining area playing backgammon earlier.

Willie and the manager, Shelia, got into a discussion at the bar.  Seems next door at the Hibiscus, they were doing a “dollar taco” night, and the discussion was whether the tacos were any good or not.  Shelia commented that she didn’t think you could get any food on the island for a dollar.  I was then mentioned that they should send someone over to check it out.  A couple at the bar thought it was a good idea, but they’d just ordered some food.  Shelia even joked she’d knock ten percent of your bar bill if someone went.

Screw it.  I asked Willie for a to-go cup to put my drink in, as I said I’d do it.  Nothing ventured, right.  The worst which could happen was they tasted bad.  It’s not like they could kill you.  Willie referred to me as the guinea pig.  I was posed to make a comment (quoting an old “Goodfeathers” cartoon from Animaniacs) that I’d preferred the term “Italian-American pig,” but since I didn’t know the audience, I didn’t say the joke.  Sid decided he’d tag along, although I think it was because he hadn’t found anything on the dinner menu he wanted.

The Hibiscus was west of the Palms, and I walked the beach in front of it each morning, so it wasn’t that far to go.  I rolled up to a bar full of twenty-somethings with a live band playing loud music.  The band was playing a decent cover of U2’s “All I Want Is You,” with a front man who sounded like Clapton.  It was like hearing Creem covering Bono’s stuff.  This was a more “happening” place, but I much preferred the quiet subtleness of the Palms where I could hear the ocean from the bar.

Hibiscus was out of chicken tacos, but there were still some beef left.  I got some flack when I asked for a to-go box, as I said I wanted to eat them on the beach.  I think they knew I was an invader.  Sid just chilled out as I got the tacos, as he didn’t want any.

I returned to the Palms, where I sat back down at the bar with them, for all to see.  Willie got a chuckle out of it, as I really went over and did that.  Everyone awaited my report as I chowed down on them.  These were Taco Bell quality, although with a little more grease.  So overall not bad, but I wouldn’t want to have eaten any more than two.

I hadn’t seen Shelly and Hannah come in for dinner, as I wanted to see how their dive at Buck Island went.  I did spot Maddie and Mark sitting down for dinner, and Sid suggested we join them.  They didn’t see that as an interruption, and said they enjoyed the company.

Mark mentioned the lady bartender (Tammy) had bottomed out her car on a pot hole, and needed a $300 alignment done.  Seems the pot holes have spray painted circles around them to let you know whether or not you should avoid them.  Green was okay to hit, yellow would be bumpy, and red was not okay at all to hit.  Apparently some pot holes were so bad that an orange road cone was placed in them.  We’re told that lasts as long as until someone gets annoyed at seeing them there, and then tosses the road cone into the bushes at the side of the road.  Tammy apparently hit one that she should’ve (or previously did) a cone in it, and it really tore up her car.  I said to Mark in all the driving I’d done so far, I hadn’t seen any marks around the pot holes, but I’d now watch for them.

When I asked, Mark told me how him and Maddie took a resort course on a whim, and got SCUBA certified.  Because they enjoyed it so much, that it became their thing to do together.  They’ve been diving for over a decade now.  Sid commented something similar, and I got to hear a number of interesting stories about places they’ve dove, and things they encountered.  They asked if I’d been certified yet.  I said that I looked into doing it at home, but held off on it on the chance I could do it here.  One of my plans as I was driving around here to see what I needed to do to live here, I’d look to see if there was a place I could do the certifications.

After I left the dining area, and was returning to the room for the evening of enjoying the sound of the waves, I ran into Shelly and Hannah again.  They’d been too sunburned from the day before, so they hadn’t gone to Buck Island.  They ended up going to a spa instead, but said they planned to attempt it the next day.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            Rum Therapy:  http://www.rumtherapy.com/

            Captain Morgan Factory Tour:  http://www.stcroixtourism.com/captainmorgan/index.htm

            Cruzan Distillery Tour:  http://cruzanrum.com/lpa

            University at Virgin Islands:  http://www.uvi.edu/

            Blues Backyard BBQ Pit:  http://st-croix.ceridium.com/profile/blues-backyard-bbq

            Hibiscus Resort:  http://hibiscusbeachresort.com/

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St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Three: Historic Christiansted)

DAY THREE:  Monday, 6 August 2012

            I was able to greet the sunrise properly this morning.  Since my patio is east-facing, I got to watch the sun come behind the clouds on the horizon.  A few doves wandered by, probably attracted by the smell of my cereal bar.  They didn’t make that familiar “cooing” sound, but they gave me a bad look they way a pigeon would, and then turned and walked away.

          After that, I wandered up and down the beach a couple times, to soak in the morning sun.  I then secured my room key in my swim suit (within a small waterproof container I’d purchased before coming down), and walked in the water, making a few passes in front of the resort.  I went as far west as I could (to cement break-wall), and then back east around the point, to an old dock.  It was about a half-mile from one side to another.  I probably could’ve gone further eastward, but the beach became less, and I was getting into private property areas.  While all the beaches in St. Croix are considered open to the public, I still didn’t want to range too far out from familiar territory.  The width of the beach narrowed significantly here too, so there wasn’t much to walk along any way.

            At one point, when I was walking in the section of the beach in from of the shaded groove of palm trees (where the couple had gotten married yesterday morning), I saw something small and brown dart from behind one of the shrubs to behind some low-hanging branches.  What I saw was “squirrel-sized,” but a lighter shade of brown (not tan), with a long smooth tail.  It certainly wasn’t a squirrel, as the tail wasn’t fuzzy, but smooth the way the rest of the fur was.  The critter popped its head up from behind the leaves to look out at me, similar to the pictures you’d see a meerkat do.  I could only see the head and part of the shoulders.  It was a rodent-type critter, with small ears folded back on its head.  I knew it wasn’t a meerkat (this isn’t Africa), and certainly wasn’t a squirrel (at least not a species I was familiar with).  I guessed it was a particular type of mammal, but dismissed it, because I’d never heard of those critters being here.  Any of the information I’d read said there were no snakes on the island.  We stood and watched each other for a few moments, and then it disappeared into the shrubs.  After the walk, I came through the front desk area and mentioned what I saw.  They confirmed what I’d guess had been correct.  I’d seen a mongoose.  Hi, Riki Tiki Tavi!  They were an introduced species, which came over with the sugar cane in the 1600s, and have been here ever since.

As it had been suggested to visit the local attorneys in person and hand them my resume (as opposed to emailing it), that had been the plan today, as I was going to explore Christiansted.  From what I’d seen earlier, when I drove through it yesterday, I couldn’t easily find a place to park on the streets, so I’d have to find a lot.  The travel books had commented about the possibilities of muggings in Christiansted during tourist season or after-dark, but after seeing what it looked like yesterday, I decided to be a little more prudent.  One of other items I’d also secured in my pre-trip purchases was an “inner pocket” to wear under my clothes so be able to keep my wallet and phone.  I secured it next to the waistband of my pants.  It wasn’t very comfortable to sit in the car with, and was annoying to walk with, but I’d figure it was worth it if it served its purpose.

With the road map I’d gotten earlier, I was able to find a place to park in Christiansted, which was a pay lot (as it was easier to get in and out of, than trying to park on the street).  There were a lot of people loitering about, so that made me wary.  A guy (wearing a shirt with a logo for the lot) asked if I wanted to have the car washed, and I politely declined.  I had on my white pants, and a white polo shirt (matched the white car nicely), so I must’ve either looked like a local, or at least someone there on business.  I went up and down a couple of the pedestrian streets, past a few shops, and looked for any attorney offices that were nearby.  To walk in other parts of Christiansted wasn’t the smartest thing to do, also because of how narrow the streets were.

Closer to the water’s edge (which was Christiansted Harbor), the streets were one-way, which were wide enough to have one vehicle parked, and one to drive past.  There was no other room on the streets, as that’s where the buildings began.  In most areas, there weren’t sidewalks really.  There were portions of the ground-levels of the buildings which set further back than the rest of the structure.  These sections were open to the outside (excepting for the routinely-placed support posts), and were covered walkways for foot traffic.  That would keep the pedestrians in the shade and out of the rain, and out of traffic.  Most of the pedestrian streets just had the entrances to the businesses (shops or pubs) open right to the street, without any type of sidewalk (covered or otherwise).

I came down the Boardwalk, walked to the eastern point (by the Seaborne Airlines Terminal), and then went along the west portion until it ended at Fort Christiansted.  Seaborne Airlines was the private charter if you wanted to take seaplane rides around the area, or even to some other places (like St. Thomas, or more remote areas in the British Virgin Islands).  Along the Boardwalk facing the water were many pubs, and some water-front hotels.  There was also lot of docks where many private boats were berthed.  I had to get a chuckle because the only boat I saw that was flying any flag was one that had a Texas flag.

Looking out across Christiansted Harbor was an island called Protestant Cay, which was just big enough to contain a resort (aptly named “Hotel on the Cay”).  Figure since it had a private beach on one side, it was probably one of the more expensive places to stay.  There was a wide-open park near the Fort.  I quickly checked out the Scale House (where trade good had been measured, and not much to see there), and went over to the Customs House (which was currently closed).  The park contained a gazebo and a single large tree.  This entire area is considered the Christiansted National Historic Site.

I entered the large yellow structure which was Fort Christiansted.  It was a self-guided tour of the Fort, so you could go at your own pace.  Once through the main gates, it was a large open area (the assembly area), and there were rooms within the buildings which made up the walls.  Most of the rooms were empty, and the tour pamphlet detailed what had previously been in there.  Some rooms had exhibits (like the powder room, and barracks), but there were bars installed to keep the public from venturing into area.  A section was listed as the infirmary appeared more like a prison area because of the barrier.

A large flag pole rose from the area with a small American flag on it.  Four large cannons faced out on Christiansted Harbor, slightly to the right of where Protestant Cay was.  The elevation at the cannon platforms allowed me to get a better view of the area surrounding the city.  Christiansted spread out from the coast, and as the hills rose behind it, the density of the structures dropped significantly.  Many houses dotted the hills.

Since there really wasn’t much to see of a historical nature in the Fort (other than the building itself), I breezed through it.  I didn’t want to be away from the car for too long, as this was a pay per hour (and wanted to make sure I had enough cash to get out).  I only brought a small amount with me, and ATMs on the island were few.  Also, I wanted to visit the attorneys, and I didn’t want to get too hot before hand.  The ocean breeze was nice, but I didn’t feel it inside the Fort or when on the streets.

The cloudiness of the morning had burned off before I’d left the Palms, so it was now a nice bright sunny day.  At the Fort I was able to get some nice pictures of the area.  A small tour group which I’d seen at the Scale House had now made it into the Fort.  I briefly considered attaching myself to them, but they were speaking Dutch, so it would’ve done me no good.

I looked up the streets towards where the Government House, Steeple Building Museum, and Archaeology Museum were, but that’s where the neighborhood started to look rougher, so I figured I’d save that for later.  I then made my way back to the pedestrian streets to pick up some gifts.  I went into a couple different stores, as I was looking for a place where I could get some t-shirts, and perhaps some coffee mugs.  After visiting a couple, the stores started to look similar, so I found a place that had some decent items.  As it was getting closer to lunch, I looked at Fort Christiansted Brew Pub or Rum Runners, which were suppose to be two places for good food.  I had the time, I passed on those places.  I still hadn’t dropped in to see an attorney’s yet, and I didn’t want them to be at lunch when I came around.

The closest attorney office I found from that point was that of Bernard Pattie.  I spoke to the receptionist, and informed her of my plan.  She said that Mr. Pattie wasn’t available today, and I would have to make an appointment via email.

The next attorney I found was Gerald Butler.  The Grateful Dead sticker on the entrance door was a great sign.  I mentioned my idea to the receptionist there, as man (who was barefoot) stood by, and sorted papers into some boxes.  The receptionist said that I should speak to “Gerry.”  The bare-footed man then introduced himself, and had me come into his office so we could chat.  Picture a shelf full of law books on one side, and a desk full of toys, bobble-heads, and other pop-culture knick-knacks.  That was his normal working environment.

We talked for probably about twenty minutes or so.  Gerry mentioned I would have to work through the American Mediation Institute (AMI) to be able to get anywhere’s here, and gave me some contact info.  I figured that was the best information I was going to get, and thanked Gerry for his time.

I did stop into one “specialty” liquor store to see if I could score a bottle of Bambarra (the Turks & Caicos rum) or something else I’d consider “special.”  Angie had mentioned I’d have to go through Customs on the way out, and I had a suitcase designed to hold multiple bottles of booze, so I wanted to see what I could find to fill it with.  Looking through the store, I didn’t see anything I couldn’t get at home.  No sense buying any bottles of Cruzan there, as I’ll be going to the distillery soon enough (and was supposed to be able to get things much cheaper there).

I’d spent enough money on souvenirs, so I decided not to have an expensive lunch.  On the way back to the car, I did notice the large number of street people who were just hanging about.  Did I feel unsafe?  Not really, but they greatly out-numbered me.  And with a purple bag from a tourist store, I sure I was now marked.  I got back to the car without any incidents.  I’d only spent a couple hours in Christiansted today, but figured I could come back at another time.  Christiansted reminded me of Syracuse, the outer sections of Baltimore, or even the Riverside district in Austin; a small nice area surrounded by areas which weren’t so nice.

When I was driving out of Christiansted, I did see an Indian restaurant nearby.  A quick investigation revealed they didn’t take plastic, and was a bit more than what I wanted to pay for lunch.  Didn’t want to drop my cash on the stuff I didn’t need to.  I came back to the Palms and had lunch there, as being able to eat on site was one of the reasons why I had decided to stay there.  The chicken fingers and fries were very good, but not anything that I couldn’t get in other locations.

Since there was a nice breeze, and the beach was pretty empty, I decided it was time for an afternoon swim.  I put my keys in my cargo shorts which I wore down to the beach, brought my book, and grabbed a lounge chair before heading into the water.  With hardly anyone on the beach, I figured my stuff would be safe enough.  I still stayed in slight of my belongings as I relaxed in the water and had a nice dip.

I came back out, and then was able to start a conversation with the pair sunbathing near where my chair was.  It was a mother and daughter who’d come down from Tennessee.  Shelly (the mom) mentioned he’d put in twenty-three years working for Frito-Lay, and Hannah turned twenty-one this week (hence the reason for the trip).  I slid my chair over, and spent a lot of time talking to them.  As they hadn’t explored much of the island yet, I told them what I’d learned so far.  They were into snorkeling, and planning to head out to Buck Island the next day.  Shelly and Hannah also signed up for the Monday Night Trivia game.  They invited me to join up with after dinner.  We talked for a bit longer, as these pale people got redder.  I had a good base tan going on, from all the dog walking outside I’d done, so I wasn’t in any danger of burning.

After my meal of roast beast and pepper jack cheese cold cuts on wheat pita bread, and the requisite rum punch from the bar, I went over to the enclosed, more “formal,” dinning area (as opposed to the less-formal area, which was open to the beach) for the Trivia Night.  I sat with Shelly and Hannah, and five other local residents.  During the introductions, names came and went so fast that I didn’t catch them, except for the man across from me (named Robert, or Bob).  We were called “Skipper’s Team,” after the old Navy guy who sat with us.  The two other couples were in the 50’s and 60’s, respectively, so we had a good age range represented.  There were five other tables, each with about eight-to-ten people we would be competing against.

A card was pulled at random from each of the Trivial Pursuit editions in sequence.  All six questions were read by a moderator, one at a time, and then each table had to come up with answers for all six questions.  These were written down, and handed to the moderator, who checked all answers of all the teams at the same time.  That was just the first round (the card from the very first edition).  One point awarded for each right answer the table had.

Even though there was a lot of shit we (“Skipper’s Team”) didn’t know, we had a lot of fun.  When we didn’t know an answer, we decided to come up with some bizarre, just to see if we could go for style.  Funny thing was, as we progressed up to later editions (which focused on more on events of the 1990’s and other recent items, as opposed to the earlier version, which was more things you were supposed to have learned in school), that was most of the questions we missed.  Bob even joked that we all lived through the 90’s, so how did we not know some of this stuff.  We ended up coming in second to last.  The winning table got to take home a twenty-year-old bottle of wine.

During the rounds, we’d all talk about what we were doing, and what brought us here.  Bob (who was part of the couple in their 60’s) personally knew a couple of attorneys on the island (including Gerry).  They said they’d pass my plan along to those attorneys, as Bob and his wife thought it was a great idea.  Bob’s comment was “To be so young, and have an awesome game plan; I’d wish I’d thought of stuff like that.”

I gave them my contact info (and email), too, so they could keep in touch.  Bob also mentioned they’d be leaving St. Croix soon, as they were moving back stateside.  I joked if they needed someone to watch their property if they still wanted to hang on to it, to let me know, as I’d gladly take a job of being a caretaker on the island.  Bob’s wife said (also jokingly) they’d think about it.  All joking aside, that was a serious offer.  I would be a caretaker of a piece of property (as long as someone else can still pay the mortgage).

Who knows if anything was going to come of this, but it didn’t hurt to try.  Once the evening was done, those that were locals left the Palms.  I talked with Shelly and Hannah a bit, but then they headed back to their room.  I went back to my patio to enjoy the cool tropical air, and finished off my complimentary bottle of Cruzan.  Since it was a first-floor room, I kinda wanted to sleep out there, but it wasn’t the smartest thing to do.  Even leaving my patio doors open would have visitors of the critter variety.  I did stretch fully out on one of my deck chairs to enjoy the sounds of the ocean night.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            Christiansted:  http://www.virgin-islands-on-line.com/sc/csmap.shtml

            Seaborne Airlines:  http://www.seaborneairlines.com/destinations/st-croix-usvi/

            Fort Christiansted Brew Pub:  http://fortchristianbrewpub.com/

            Christiansted National Historic Site:  http://www.nps.gov/chri/index.htm

            ###  30  ###

St. Croix, US Virgin Islands – August 2012 (Part Two: Point Udall, Cheeseburger in America’s Paradise)

DAY TWO:  Sunday, 5 August 2012

            I was starving upon waking, and needed to get food as soon as I could.  I also wanted to take a moment to enjoy the beach in the daytime too, before I did what I needed to do today.  From the edge of my patio to the water’s edge was 30 steps.  Of course I counted it out.  I went and took some pictures in the morning, as well as collecting some coral pieces to bring back for other people.

 I chose the Palms because it had a restaurant on-site which did all meals.  (Not every resort on the island does all three.)  I had an idea to eat something light while sitting on the beach, eat lunch out some where on the island, and then either dinner at the resort (or something I’d bought locally), and then followed by the nightly drink.

On the morning beach stroll, I met an older lady named Maddie.  We talked for a few moments about how beautiful the area was.  When I went to breakfast, her and her husband (Mark) showed up.  They were part of the small group that came in when I did.  They were from Houston, and came here to do some diving.

I had two eggs over-easy, home fries, English muffin, and fruit, washed down with pineapple juice.  I charged that back to the room, so I could save my pocket cash.  Figured it would just end up on the credit card one way or another.

I knew I had to make the arrangements to get my car rental before too long, as I wanted to be able to explore the island as much as possible in the time available to me.  I asked the woman at the front desk (a different person than who checked me in) about making some arrangements with Hertz.  She was able to get it so someone come out to the resort to pick me up, and bring me back to the airport to get the rental.  That was nice, as I thought I was going to have to pay for a taxi to do this.

Robert was the young guy from Hertz who came out to get me.  He took me back a different way than Douglas had brought me in, so I got to see some different parts of the island.  The way Robert brought me was less hilly and curvy, and I liked that route better.  This section of the island did remind me a lot of the way the Blue Hills region of Turks & Caicos looked.  It’s not “low class,” just what the local construction looks like after constantly being weathered.

I hate the extra charges involved in car rentals, but it’s the trade-off for being able to come and go when I want.  Don’t need to wait for a taxi, or haggle over fares.  My vacation is precious to me, and I don’t want to feel any of it is wasted because I had to wait for my ride to arrive.  My rental was a white Suzuki four-door economy car with tan cloth interior.  All my vehicles get named, so this was “Coral.”  I then drove back the way I’d come the night before (with Douglas), so the roads in the daytime weren’t as bad as they initially appeared to be at night.

Once back at the Palms, I took the time to enjoy the water finally.  The beach sand was smooth, with a few bits of coral around.  At the water’s edge, the sand continued for another ten feet or so, and then it became a wall of coral.  I went up and down the beach in front of the Palms, and noticed there wasn’t much change.  At some points the coral wall was closer to the shore, and at other points it was much further out.  The depth of the water by the coral wall was about six to seven feet, and that remained pretty constant.  So where the coral wall was further out, there was a lot of area you could stand in the water with your feet touching the ground.  It had been recommended to have “swim shoes” to protect the bottom of my feet, and I was glad to have those.  The coral wasn’t sharp, but it was slippery.  The swim shoes gave me some additional grip.

I looked into the areas on either side of the Palms and noticed they didn’t have as much beach, and a lot more sea grass.  So I ended picking what appeared to be the best area.  Going back and forth on the beach, walking in the water, I probably walked another half-mile.  I didn’t spend a lot of time on the actual beach, only because today I still needed to get the food stuffs I’d want for the week (as to keep my budget low).

During my frolicking in the water, I noticed a section of the resort, which was between my villa and the Palms’ dining area, where there was a shaded groove of palm trees which set slightly back from the beach.  It also had some smaller shrub plants around it to further set it off from the rest of the area.  A couple had chosen to get married there that morning.  The beach wedding had the officiator, bride and groom, and two attendants each.  Very subtle and low-key, which I thought was nice.  A few others had stopped to watch the ceremony, too, but they stayed outside of the groove as they were also just spectators.  That was just an interesting few moments during my walk.

I asked the lady at the front desk for directions to the nearest grocery store.  As I’d expected (and had also been told by Angie), directions here are not “take X route for Y miles, then turn left on to Z road.”  Directions were like that in the rural country, which was “go this way for a bit, veer right after the gas station, after the second left, take another right at the t-shirt shop, and then a short distance beyond that.”  What I was given was kind of informative, if I was going there and coming right back (which I wasn’t).  I grabbed the St. Croix road map I got at the airport kiosk, and would just figure it out myself and find my own way.  I travelled east towards Christiansted, with the idea of reaching Point Udall.  Along the way I’d get actual food for lunch, and then groceries on the way back.  The supermarket called Pueblo was the local tip to the best place to go overall.

As I pulled out of the Palms, I happened to look to my left and saw an iguana wandering in the grass next to the driveway.  Now I’d seen a gecko earlier in the morning, which was no longer than my finger.  This iguana was far-larger than the one Shawn once had.  From the head to the hips, this scaly bastard was as long as my hand and forearm, and more than twice as thick.  It stopped briefly enough for me to get a so-so picture of it, and then swiftly trucked into the nearby bushes.  While I’d seen iguana’s before, just never seen one move so fast.  Definitely a result of the warm climate.

From looking at the map I knew basically what route to take, but I wanted to see if I could do it without going through downtown Christiansted today.  Nope.  That’s the way the main drag went.  The two-lane road became a one-way street once you entered the city, went all the way up to the coastal park, and then made a ninety-degree right turn before continuing east.  My first impression of Christiansted was a lot of narrow one-way streets and old style (and old looking) buildings.  Christiansted was not the prettiest-looking city, and looked more run-down than inviting.  Still, I was just passing through today, so I may form another opinion later.

The roads aren’t well-marked as I’d like them to be, but it was enough for what I needed.  And driving on the left-hand side of the road with a left-side steering wheel seemed very natural to me.  Probably because when I drive in Austin, I’m always driving in the far left lane to begin with.  Once outside Christiansted, Route 75 turns and becomes Route 82 without any warning, but that was the road I wanted to be on.

Going along some sections of Route 82, the road curved a bit as it went up hills.  It reminded me of some of the back roads in Washington Country I learned to drive on.  And the more east I got, the more spread out things became.  The houses were fewer, and the area was a bit nicer looking. It seemed to be more inviting.  Travelling along the road, with the coast to my left, reminded me of the section of road between Cape Vincent and Clayton.  Very similar feel, as I went past small little developments, and the occasional eatery.

Right after the T-intersection I’d need to take to stay on Route 82 (as going right would be Route 60) I passed a placed called “Cheeseburger In America’s Paradise.”  It was early for lunch, but I planned to stop there on the way back.  With a name like that, I couldn’t pass it up.  It’d become my tradition since my very first visit to Turks & Caicos to have my “Jimmy Buffet Meal,” and I wanted to continue that.  (For those who don’t know, I basically quote the song “Cheeseburger In Paradise” when the waitress asks me what I’d like.)

Don’t blink or you’ll miss when Route 82 turns to the left towards Point Udall.  I didn’t, but just by chance.  Too busy looking at scenery.  Had I missed the turn, the road would’ve then become Route 60 again, and it would loop me around back to where I was earlier.  This far-eastern section of Route 82 could only be described as “way out there.”  I was literally out in the middle of no where.  The road was still wide enough for two vehicles, but it was narrow.  The terrain was hilly to my right, and the coast to my left.  Sometimes there was a nice drop-off to the coast I was only a few feet from, and there weren’t any guard rails about half of that time.  No visible power-poles or street lights either.  No lines on the road or other street signs.  I mention this because I wanted to see the sunrise over the Point, as that had been one of my initial plans.  Seeing how the area was, I figured driving out here in the dark might be very difficult.

As I neared the Point, something seemingly out-of-place caught my eye.  A large satellite dish, like you’d see SETI use, was sitting off on the right.  Turns out this was part of the VLBA (Very Large Baseline Array) Telescope, which is a SETI-like project.  The gates to the small compound (which contained a small building) were closed.  I rang the bell that was there, but there was no answer.  I’d have to attempt to visit them again later.  I think Torvald would be proud if I visited an Astronomy-related place while on holiday, as a “representative” of the Austin Planetarium.

Finally after a number of twists and turns (literally, as that was the odd path the road took) I arrived at Point Udall.  When I was making my plans with AAA, the information Krista pulled up suggested this was a place you’d park, and then walk a path down to.  But I’d been told by Angie that it was something you could drive right up to.  I expected just a parking area with a small plaque and a great view.  I didn’t expect this massive monument hanging out here.

This was the Millennium Monument.  It looked as if it, and the base around it, had all been made from natural stone.  Not bricks, but cut pieces of stone.  It looked like four corner-blocks were placed with the angled-edges facing inward.  There was a flag pole in the center of it too.  So the outside was vertical, and the inside sloped from the narrow top to the wider base.  From a distance it vaguely formed two interlocking M-shapes.

The road just circled around the monument.  Parking was wherever you could find it.  A rock wall separated the road from the cliffs.  Standing on the edge of the wall (directly in front of the monument), there was a bay to my left a little behind me (so at my 7 o’clock position), and to my right (at my 5 o’clock position) was a mountain which sloped down to the shore.  In front of me was some rocky coast-line beyond the rock wall (for about another hundred feet or so, out and downwards), and a wide-open ocean beyond that.  Welcome to the eastern-most point of the United States!

I took a number of pictures of the area.  Of course I’d left my Turks & Caicos magazine (Where When How) back at the room, so I didn’t have it with me to have my picture taken with it as a “recognizable far away place” (which is a fun thing the magazine editors want their readers to do).  There wasn’t anyone else out here to take my picture when I arrived.  Soon a couple came out, and I was able to have them take my picture (in exchange for me taking one of them.  It’s a nice thing tourists do for each other).  I then wandered around a few more minutes before I headed back the way I came.  I had to go that way, unless I wanted to hike over the mountain or try to swim around the island.

Remember the bay I’d mentioned (“to my 7”)?  I back-tracked to it.  Called Split Cove, it was a little place where you could pull off, and then there was a walking path down to the water.  The path looked more like an off-road route, which it very well could’ve been.  I strolled down the path to the shore where I could get some really nice shots.  I could just imagine Captain Jack Sparrow coming ashore here to bury his treasure.  There was a car parked here which I’d pulled up next to, and when I was checking out the shore I never saw the owners.  Didn’t know if they were hiking, swimming, or whatever.  It wasn’t my job to go looking for them.

Once I was done looking around, I then went back along Route 82 with a particular target in mind:  Lunch.  My destination was “Cheeseburger In America’s Paradise.”  Let me describe it to you.  Set up a small ten-foot square building to cook out of, another small twenty-foot square building for a bar, and connect with a rather large canopy tent.  Place various tables and chairs under the tent.  This was about as open to the outside as you could get.

While the server told me about a jerk chicken breast dinner which sounded good, I had a specific mission in mind, and it was what the place was named after.  Because I was driving, I passed on the “cold draft beer,” but I’d still have my Jimmy Buffet Meal.

The business was slow, so it took some time for the food to come.  I think they actually had to turn on the grill.  Not too many people present, so there weren’t too many snatches of conversation to overhear.  It was a nice relaxing atmosphere, so I didn’t mind the wait.  When my cheeseburger came, great googley-moogley, it was freakin’ huge!  I took a picture of it, with my glasses case next to it for a size reference.  The cheese was like yellowish lava spilling out from the top of the burger.  It looked so good.  And it was, too.  Very nice, and filling.

After eating, I had to take a picture of a sign on their stage area, which had a “no whining” portion on it.  Little things like that I find amusing, because it adds character to a place.  It wasn’t as good as the sign outside Jimmy’s Dive Bar (in T&C), but it still was funny.

Now that I had food under my belt, on to the next mission…which were groceries.  I’d eaten so I wasn’t hungry now, but I wanted to get some things to be able to leisurely breakfast on the patio, as well as some snack items.  Just like any other time in the grocery store, I’d just go up and down every aisle to see what’s there.  It’s more fun that way.  You get to find stuff you may not notice.  The store I went to was called Pueblo (which was an odd name for an island store), and it was similar to a small-scale HEB or Hannaford.  I’m told there’s a place called Food Town which has better produce, so not sure how it stacks up to Whole Foods.

Since part of this trip was recon for eventually living on St. Croix, I needed to see what was available (or not available) at the store, and get an idea of cost differences.  Most things I’d buy were available on the island (no Dr. Pepper, but my wild strawberry Crystal Light was there), and costs weren’t really much more.  Figure everything is imported, so you pay a little more, but this not significantly so.

What was one of the greatest things I saw?  It was Sunday afternoon, and you could buy alcohol in the grocery store.  Not just wine after a certain time of day, but hard booze!  Oh, so fabulous.  I considered buying some rum on Sunday just to say that I did it.  I had a bottle back in my room (remember that complimentary bottle that was waiting for me), so I didn’t need any more right now.  And I figured I’d be going to the Cruzan Distillery in the next day or two anyways.

Once back at the Palms, and the basics had been set, I called Ron (the guy from Couch Surfing).  I was able to speak to him this time.  Ron had some guests that had come in, so he wasn’t going to be able to show me around.  We did talk for about a half-hour, so I was glad he did take the time to do that.

Ron worked as a building inspector, and noted that work on the island was tough now that the refinery was closed (which I knew had happened February of this year).  He also mentioned instead of emailing resumes to local attorneys (as that’s “the way it’s done on the main land”), that I should actually walk in and start talking to them.  I mentioned I’d sent some out already before I’d left home, and had gotten no response.  Ron said that was probably why.

Ron did mention a number of other island facts, many of which I’d already learned (and had said that).  He commented that showed I was serious about coming here, because I had an idea of what the reality was like.  He did mention most places here don’t have Air Conditioning because it was too expensive.  Ron said people just opened the windows as much as possible during the year.  I didn’t have AC when I was growing up in New York, and used fans to move the air around, so I could go back to doing that.

The way Ron described it, there’s a single entity which provides the power to the island, and as a government-controlled monopoly they set the rates.  Ron compared the cost of nine cents per kilowatt hour (over in the States) to the forty-to-fifty cents per kilowatt hour here.  There’s also a thing called “WAPA” (not sure what the acronym stands for) which is an additional tax on the utility bills, which is suppose to be used to provide money to social programs.  Because it’s not a business providing the power, the WAPA tax can change (and apparently does) wildly from month to month.  It’s not based on a percentage of a customer’s bill cost or energy use, but an arbitrary amount decided by some nebulous means.

So while Ron said he probably wouldn’t be able to show me around, he’d try to touch base later in the week.  I hadn’t done a lot of planning on what to do or see on the island once I’d gotten here on the idea I was going to have a guide for part of it.  Still, I’m glad he took the time to chat with me.

When I arrived at the Palms, there was a flyer in the room which informed the guests of the events going on that week.  There was also a “Discover St. Croix” book to show what some of the local attractions were.  I took some time to thumb through some of these items, as well as the tourist information I’d picked up coming in at the airport in order to figure out what I wanted to hit this week.  I just had a few ideas of some touristy things to do, but I also wanted to explore every bit of the island as possible on the idea to see if this would be a place I’d want to eventually call my residence.  I can’t do that by simply sticking to only tourist destinations.  And, more importantly, I had a tropical beach a few yards away, so I wanted to enjoy that as much as possible.  I decided to keep my plans flexible, and figure things out as I went along.

I then decided it was time to relax a bit, and work on the journal (and sit at the bar doing so).  The server from breakfast (Lizzie) had made herself a mid-day smoothie.  She offered me what was left-over from the blender.  It only ended up being about a third of a drinking cup, but it was still a nice gesture.  Thank you very much.

Also while sitting at the bar, the lady bartender (I thought she said her name was Tammy) was talking to a woman about the “recent commercial she did.”  I inquired in order to meet one of the locals.  Her name was Tamara, and she worked at one of the local coffee shops.  As I asked for specific information about island life (after prefacing that I was gathering info to I could move here), her answers alternated between evasive and contradictory.  She talked about flying home at one point to be able to watch a “real football game” at one point, and when I asked where home was, she said “right here.”  It was pretty obvious Tamara wasn’t interested in chatting and providing information to me, although she kept a good conversation going with the lady bartender there.

Leaving the bar, I found a nice shady spot on the beach, and relaxed there a bit to do some writing.  While this journal was being written long-hand, I pictured myself sitting on the beach every day writing on my laptop.  (There’s a picture of someone doing that in the St. Croix Guidebook I’d gotten at the airport.)  Then I took another stroll up and down the beach, and checked out those people who were there.  A small family, a few older couples, some college-aged pairs.  Pretty much a diverse group, but they were still pretty quiet.  Their normal sounds of activity didn’t over-shadow the sounds of the water hitting the waves.

I had my dinner of cold cuts at the room, and then went to the bar for the last portion of the 4-7pm Happy Hour.  Bottles of beer and glasses of wine were half-off, and all other drinks cost a dollar less.  I had my rum punch, and talked some with Maddie and Mark, and their group from Houston.  Among the group, I also met Sid (an older gentleman, who was interested in my writing), and Steve (about my age, who was talking about his impending divorce).  There were about eight in their group, and they were going to Christiansted for dinner.  I declined as I’d already eaten, was a bit more cash than I wanted to spend, and was trying not to be an intrusion.  The Houston group was mostly couples (who could share trip costs), and they have a single van to cart all of them to their dives (thus another cost which was split).  They definitely had more money to be able to drop on the trip than I did, as I was a solo person paying for all myself.

At the bar was a different bartender this evening than before (not Willie or Tammy), and the people there weren’t too friendly or talkative.  Once I finished the rum punch, I went back to the room where I had two drinks made of apple juice and rum (from the complimentary room bottle).  I sat on the patio to feel the wind, and enjoy the sound of the waves hitting the shore.  In reality, I can hear bar noise any time at home, I can’t get the tropical coast sensations.  That was a bit more important to me.

For more information on the places visited or mentioned:

            VLBA (Very Large Baseline Array) Telescope:  http://www.vlba.nrao.edu/

            Point Udall:  http://www.stcroixtourism.com/st_croix_pictures/point_udall.htm

            Cheeseburger In America’s Paradise:  http://www.burgersvi.com/

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