Three Caribbean Islands, Four Unique Cultures

Sint Maarten/Saint Martin, Anguilla and Saint Barthélemy (St. Barts) are close neighbours. Sint Maarten (an independent country in the Kingdom of the Netherlands) and Saint Martin (a French collectivité and EU member) share the small island of Saint Martin. A 20-minute ferry ride north is Anguilla, a British Overseas Territory. Saint Barts, another French collectivité , is a 45-minute ferry ride southeast.

Despite their proximity, the countries couldn’t be more different.

Split Personality – Sint Maarten/Saint Martin

Saint Martin is the world’s smallest inhabited land mass split between two countries. The lower third of its 87 sq kms is Dutch. The northern two-thirds is French. The border is marked by nothing more than “Welcome” signs.

Sint Maarten has its own currency, the Caribbean guilder, but the de facto currency is the US dollar. Saint Martin uses the euro. Sint Maarten’s official languages are Dutch and English, but hardly anyone speaks Dutch. Saint Martin’s language is French.

We stayed in Philipsburg, the capital of the Dutch side. It is a scrabbly little town with a long, sandy beach, colourful murals, and only about 2,000 residents. It also hosts the cruise ship port. When we were there, as many as five ships per day were in port, ballooning the town’s population to as much as 15,000.

During the day, the town was bustling. Cruise passengers lounged on the beach or shopped on the main street. The island is duty-free. Philipsburg’s main street has endless duty free shops selling perfumes, diamonds, luxury watches, tobacco and alcohol. One day was enough to explore Philpsburg.

The rest of our time was spent exploring the island and doing some short hikes, memorable mostly for the steep cliffs, colourful land iguanas and troops of shy Vervet monkeys. Our niece Marilyn joined us for the last few days so we got to play tour guides.

Plane Spotting on Maho Beach

An iconic activity in Sint Maarten is plane spotting on Maho Beach. Passenger jets landing at Princess Juliana Airport pass about 20 metres over the beach as they land. People crowd the beach, cold beers in hand, to get that perfect Instagram shot. Take-offs are actually more dramatic. Despite lots of signs warning people of the dangers, fools still stand directly behind the jets. When the big jets go full throttle, sand, garbage, hats, umbrellas and sometimes people get blown full force into the ocean. It was fun to watch – from a distance.

Le côté français

There was no mistaking when we entered the French side. Roads are paved better, wider and painted with lines, there are boulangeries in every small town, payment is in Euros and everyone speaks French.

The capital is Marigot. It has a small yacht harbour, but otherwise lacks the buzz of Philipsburg. Cruise ship passengers briefly stop on their bus tours, but otherwise the town is left to the locals.

The nearby beach town of Grand Case has more buzz. It has a nice beach, but is best known for its “lolos” – traditional open-air barbecue restaurants. They are basically shacks with open kitchens surrounded by tables. The steel-drum barbecues sizzle with pork ribs, chicken breasts, fresh fish and, for the high-rollers, lobsters. Most of the cooks and staff are women. The cooking smells were irresistible. Maria recommends the fresh-grilled snapper; George preferred the juicy ribs.

Saint Martin also has the island’s best and most popular beach – Orient Bay. It is about 2 kms of pure white sand lined with restaurants, lounge chairs and sun umbrellas. It caters to every possible water sport – snorkelling, kitesurfing, windsurfing, jet-skiing.

Beaches, beaches and more beaches – Anguilla

Anguilla is a twenty minute ferry ride from Marigot. It is famous for its beaches, and not much else. It is only 25 kms long by 5 kms wide. The only way to get around is by expensive taxis. At the last minute we decided to rent a car. Using Google maps and Whatsapp, we booked a car from a guy named Lawrence. Cash only. Lawrence met us at the ferry terminal with the car, obviously his own. He was going to be busy in the afternoon when we left. He told us to just park the car by the ferry terminal, leave the keys under the mat and text him. Much smoother process than the big companies!

We drove the only main road to Mead’s Bay Beach at the west end of the island. It is one of the most picturesque beaches we’ve ever visited, yet there was hardly anyone on the beach. After a short stop for lunch, we headed east to Shoal Bay Beach. It had nothing on Mead’s Bay, yet was relatively busy. Marilyn snorkelled while Maria and George lounged under some palm trees. Very relaxing.

Before returning to the ferry, we headed to The Valley, Anguilla’s capital. We’d read that there were some historic sights. We’d read wrong. The whole island, including The Valley, was clobbered by Hurricane Irma in 2017 and is still struggling to recover.

As a British Overseas Territory, driving is on the left. Despite that, driving was not difficult since traffic was so sparse. The biggest challenge was avoiding the goats grazing along the shoulder.

Money, money, and more money – St. Barts

Saint Barts is famous as a retreat for the rich and famous. A daytrip is all we could afford.

Stepping off the ferry in Gustavia, all you see are high-end fashion stores. Dior, Valentino, Ralph Lauren, Longchamps. They are all there on the main street. We were on the budget tour, so walked right by. Fortunately St. Barts is pretty small since taxis are basically non-existent. We walked everywhere.

Beaches are free, so we walked to Shell Beach at the edge of town where Marilyn and George spent time in the clear, warm water. Next it was up (of course it had to be up) to the Gustavia Lighthouse for a birds-eye view of the mega-yachts anchored around the harbour.

Then we walked up further for what was probably the highlight of the day. Planes landing at St. Barts have to sharply descend over a steep ridge at the end of the runway. They literally skim a few metres above cars and trucks driving along the ridge. We stood at the traffic circle enjoying the planes buzzing just above our heads. Fun to watch. Not sure we’d want to fly there though.

Bring Money, Lots of Money

Up to then, we had spent little – a few euros for cups of coffee. After the climb up to the airport ridge, we were tired, hot and hungry. We could have walked back into town. Instead, George suggested walking down the opposite side to St. Bart’s most popular beach along Baie de St. Jean. He convinced Maria and Marilyn that it was a short walk, the beach would be nice, there would be lots of restaurants, and we could take a taxi back.

When we got down to the beach, Google maps only showed one restaurant nearby, the Nao Beach Club. George knew he didn’t dare suggest walking further, so Nao Beach Club it was. It was a nice beachside restaurant but the prices were eye-popping. The cheapest bottle of wine was €200. We swallowed our pride and ordered “cheap” glasses of wine – €20 each. The table of six across from us had several magnums of wine on the go! Food prices were equally daunting. Guess who had to pay for that meal.

To make matters worse, there were no taxis. We had to walk up and over the ridge to get back to the ferry.