Work Hard, Play Hard

Hello! 

Shiza I haven't blogged in ages- sorry!

So... Caribbean life has been amazing but there have definitely been some ups and downs and some as usual Tiffany disasters (would being friends with me still be fun if there weren't?!) but all in all it's work hard, play hard here and I'm really loving it :)

This boat is more formal than my first, so I’ve been trying to adapt and tone down my usual raring-to-go, loud, in-your-face, opinionated personality (which has already got me in trouble once or twice).

The Captain is referred to as “Captain” or “Captain (insert name here). “Sir” is also often used and “Cap” is acceptable but “Cappy” is a no no (I did try..). He's lovely and we get on really well. He has a great appreciation for all types of music and everyday when I clean the bridge we are singing to a song or humming a tune.

Me and the Cap

Our boys looking so hot in epilletes

Ze girls!

My job title is “Laundry stewardess”, although I cover other areas aswell, and it’s a lot to get through in one day. So I spend about 50% of my day down in the laundry, which I call “The Dungeon” as it is a small narrow room on the lowest level of the boat, with no windows and absolutely no one comes down there. I also look after the crew areas (cleaning and re-stocking fridges, vacuuming and cleaning crew corridors, setting up and clearing up for lunch and dinner) the bridge (the control area where the captain sits), the captain’s cabin and the captain (morning cappuccino, 10am green smoothie and 3pm protein shake). So I spend most of the day literally running from area to area, ensuring there’s a load of laundry on whilst I make the captains cappuccino, then cleaning his cabin and the bridge then running down to change over the laundry then running back up to do the smoothie, then back down to laundry to swap some loads, then up to crew area to stock and set up for lunch, then lunch clear up and vacuuming and cleaning of crew areas, then laundry, then captains shake, re-stocking, then laundry. PHEW! I would love a pedometer to see how many steps I take a day as I swear I go up and down the stairs about 50 times a day; so why I seem to be putting on weight instead of losing weight is beyond me! I should have buns of steel by now!

So because I’m busy and also still getting into the swing of my routine, I am always rushing around like a fly on a mission. That, coupled with the fact that I am still learning, means that some mistakes are bound to happen.... 

Us girls have tailored shirts that we wear. They are fairly expensive and they then get tailored to fit us perfectly. It somehow got lost in translation that these could not go into the tumble dryer (all other crew clothing is tumble dried or laundry stews would be working till 4am), so I accidently shrunk all our shirts. I hadn’t really noticed it yet; the one morning I just put one on that felt tight over my boobs and looked a tad shorter, but I just thought that I’d put on weight. So I just carried on with my day till our captain called our chief stew aside and asked if my uniform was fitting correctly. After closer inspection of the other girls’ uniforms, it seems they had shrunk by about 2inchs. That was the first mistake. The next thing that happened was that I had stain treated some sheets, but the stubborn stain just wasn’t coming out, so as a last resort I used bleach. The bleach worked and the sheets came out great and I then loaded in the next lot of laundry which included the captains royal purple towels. Well no one ever told me to do a rinse cycle of a washing machine after using bleach, so the captain’s towels came out with white streaks all over them, so his set of 16 towels had to be replaced with a new set (more money Tiffany has now cost the boat). 

Then there have been the “lost sock” and “clothing returned to wrong person” incidents. I am starting to think there is a poltergeist in the laundry room. We all have mini netted laundry bags for our socks and underwear and these go into the washers and the dryers. However, I always open the tumble dryer to find a lone sock sitting in the drum. All the netted bags appear closed so it’s not like the sock escaped from one of them. So then I’d put it aside, hoping its friend would show up later, but it never does and now I have a pile of about 7 lost socks. I thought I was going so crazy that I even started opening all the netted bags to check if the friends were in there, incase the lone sock’s partner had somehow permeated through the netted bag material through osmosis. But the partner socks where never there. It is a complete mystery that befuddles me daily. 

Then there was the killer smoothie incident.

Every day at about 10am I make the captains “green” smoothie with pretty much any green stuff I can find- broccoli, spinach, asparagus, apple etc as long as it’s healthy greens. So last week I was using broccolini, which came in little bunches wrapped in blue rubber bands. As usual, because I was so busy and short on time, I was rushing. And somehow I must have accidently put in a head of broccoli WITH the blue rubber band still tied around it, because our chief stew comes to me 30mins later with half a captains smoothie and says the captain almost choked on a blue rubber band. 

Then a few days later (oh god not another one. I swear I thought things were finally getting better) there was another ballsup. So some liquid had spilt on our owners sheets and everything from the mattress protector to the duvet was buggered. I took the whole lot down to my chief stew who advised that I stain treat all of it then wash it. So in some miscommunication I had understood that she meant the feather down duvet aswell. So I squash it into a washing machine thinking this can’t be very good for the duvet. And then later my Chief Stew was like omg what have you done, feather down can’t go into the washing machine! I swear to god I checked the label and it said you can wash it on 60 degrees. But when we took the previously fluffy poofy duvet out the wash, it was as small and straggly looking as a wet Yorkshire Terrier.

I was adamant that the best way to dry it was to put it in the dryer with a few tennis balls (the old tennis balls trick) so I run upstairs to ask the captain if I can borrow a few of his balls (he plays tennis) and he smiles at me and says sure but then asks why I need them. I stuttered and started looking at my feet when I explained why and then the smile quickly turned into a frown and he asked to see both me and my chief stew immediately. I started sweating and wringing my hands, adamant that after this latest near-disaster I was now going to get fired. But thankfully it was just a talking to and the duvet dried happily in the sun and I haven’t been fired yet. 

In my final laundry fuck up I accidentally washed the owners black clothing (this usually gets washed separately on the woollens cycle, cold wash, no spin) with a bundle of white chefs jackets (the clothes were stuck to the bottom of the washing machine drum and I didn't see them) which are washed on cottons hygiene at 95 degrees with a mild bleach. When the chief Housekeeper walked in and asked if I’d taken out the owners clothes, she went pale when I asked “What clothes?” then she turned slightly pale when she saw the machine on 95. We frantically stopped the machine and pulled out the clothes. The owner’s designer black underpants were now purple thankfully the other items came out unscathed. That was literally the last of my nine lives and I got a warning!

So in other news, I had my first day scuba diving a few weeks ago and I didn't panic, or drowned, or get mowed over by a cruise ship, or swept out to sea. My luck must be changing! One of the guys on our boat is a scuba instructor so he organized my books and I can learn one on one with him and get out into the ocean quicker which is great. I saw a lobster, a pretty fish that looked like a zebra and a sting ray! We also went to a wreck site where there was a helicopter. 

So a bit about where we’re based and the island:

The island is divided into the French side and the Dutch side. 

They speak Dutch primarily on the one (great because my Afrikaans goes far!) and use dollars and French on the other where they use Euros. Most of the locals speak both though and EVERYONE speaks English. And you can pretty much pay in dollars everywhere, you just ask for the dollar conversion amount. A few places on the French side are super chilled and let you pay 1 to 1; other places you have to pay the proper exchange rate though.  We just use dollars though, cos we’re paid in dollars. 

The Dutch side is the liberal, “party side” with all the strip joints and nightclubs and home to the “Soggy Dollar”. It’s also the side of the island where the yacht marina’s and cruise ships are. The capital is a town called Philipsburg (where the cruise ships are based) and is great for shopping and also has a nice strip down the beach front where, besides the cute Caribbean style restaurant bars, you can also find a Hard Rock Cafe, MAC make up store (my best find EVER as they also sell Bobbi Brown and Estee Lauder), Lacoste, DKNY and loads of diamond, duty free and electronic stores. It’s overrun with fat American tourists and elderly couples from the cruise ships though.There is the most amazing crepe place that we go to and lots of other little bakeries!

Phillipsburg beach road

One of the many little restaurant vendors on Beach Rd

Yay MAC!

The French side of the island is the more relaxed, chilled out side of the island where the prettiest beaches are and little boutique shops along the beachfront. Many of the beach bars have live music in the evenings that play salsa type music. There’s a really nice one in Grand Case called Calmos where I’ve been a few times. 

Calmos at night

Grand Case is renowned for its Tuesday night “street carnival” where the strip has little stalls all the way down it with vendors selling everything from beaded bracelets and clothing to homemade liquors, crepes and barbecued chicken. 

There is also usually live music and a awesome outdoor restaurant that reminds me of Mzoli’s in Gugs- you choose your meat and side dishes and grab a beer and a table by the busy street and they cook it up on these big braai’s at the front and bring it to you whilst you listen to the live music and watch the hustle and bustle on the street. 

Johnny eating braaied chicken!

My fav place in Grand Case is this restaurant bar called the Blue Martini where they serve great pizza’s and cocktails and there is a live reggae band which are so good you literally feel like Bob Marley’s death was a conspiracy theory and he’s been hanging out at the Blue Martini all along. 

At Blue Martini

We are in an area of the island called Simpson Bay (in the lagoon) where there are 3 marinas, of which we are in the one closest to the suburb of Marigot.  In our little marina there is a hotel casino and a country club/resort that has a pool, tennis courts and a gym. The boat organized us all monthly passes which is great, so we try to hit the gym every second day and during our breaks we often go and lie by the pool in the sun. 

There is a famous beach called Maho beach with an equally famous bar called “Sunset”. The airport strip is literally one road back from the beach and the planes come in from the sea and have to fly super low straight over the beach to land on the strip. So tourists rush there to take pics of the planes landing. If you stand on the middle of the beach, you can feel the blast of the jet engines and get blown backwards into the sea! People do it for fun but it’s pretty dangerous! 

Paulie imitating what happens to you if you're caught in the jet blast

Surfboard up at Sunset Bar with the daily plane arrival times

There’s another cool beach out in Simpson Bay, on the other side of the airport where there is a rad beach bar restaurant called Karakter where we go often to chill out in the sun and drink cocktails, get a massage from one of the local ladies that walk up and down the beach and have a bite to eat and watch the sunset. The bar is an old trailer!

View from Karakter's bar onto Simpson Bay

Pretty sunset at Karakter's

So not sure if I already said, but our owners are on board for 3 months. Now usually when you have guests on board, you don’t get any off time and you work non stop. We’re lucky in that because our owners have quite a structured itinerary that doesn’t really change day to day, we get a scheduled off day every fifth day. One person in each department is off at a time, so I have my off day with one of the deck crew. It changes up often so we get to hang out with different people all the time. It’s nice, we usually hire a car for 35 dollars for the day and go mission around the island or to the beach. 

The boys and I went for a (anti) Valentine's day of beer and pizza!

Boat to Pinel Island

Pinel Island

Pinel Island

Pinel Island

Another night out with the boys

The other day the owner wanted to take the boat on a trip around the island, so the boys had to test out the water toys, including the wave runners. The girls all got to have a go so we each took one (there are 4) and went out into the sea, from Simpson Bay all the way up to Mullet Bay (see map). They’re bloody powerful so I had a few speed wobbles at first trying to gun it and go fast, but I found I had more balance standing up so flew through the water feeling pretty cool, looking like Flash Gordon (minus the red and black spandex). We drove past a few of the yachts, showing off and I passed between 2 Heineken catamarans carrying like 40 people each, standing up and revving the wave runner, doing tight turns at high speed and praying that I wouldn’t wipe out and land up with a giant wedgie and totally humiliate myself.  We were all spaying each other and criss crossing around. It was the most fun I’ve had since I’ve been here. The water was clear blue and warm and it was a gorgeous, hot sunny day, so we’re whizzing along with the spray of the ocean in our faces passing the beautiful beaches and boats. 

I’ve had a few debaucherous nights out that I won’t even go into here (private message me for skinner) but twice I ended up at a strip club at 5am dancing on a pole. This isn’t exactly out of the norm (going to strip clubs not the dancing on the pole bit) as the many strip clubs are often the only places open late so people go there to continue their parties. A well known DJ called Megan Daniels came to play at the Soggy Dollar the other weekend and they set up this huge stage on the water and the place was packed. It was all house music and I met some really cool people including some other saffa’s.

I’ve made some good friends- some crew members and then a girl I bumped into at Soggys on one of my first weekends here (I actually met her in Antibes through the hot kiwi way back in Sept). We really hit it off and are so similar so I see her on most of my off days and we’ll do dinner or go out for a drink! And no, no boys incase you were thinking “so when is she going to get to that part?”. We have a cute 2^nd Officer that teases me incessantly (and who wouldn’t love that) but he's about the only one really!

Oh my god and then there was the pigeon incident! So the other day this tagged pigeon flies onto our boat into the hands of one of our deck crew. We tried to throw it over board to see if it would fly away but it just kept coming back and sitting on the deck looking kindof confused and sad. As the owners are animal lovers, they had the crew running around looking for food and water for it and allowed the bird a “24hr boat pass” (i.e. we have to look after it and can’t kick it out). And as always with anything to do with animals, I HAVE to get involved and take over the looking after of this bloody bird. 

So there I am googling “what to do when you find a lost tagged pigeon” (you’d be surprised how many direct hits you get) and then I’m walking around lecturing everybody  that it can only eat this and that and we can’t scare it and it needs to be somewhere quiet but still with the soothing sounds of peoples voices (as it is a domesticated, hand reared racing pigeon, they look to people for safety). Then I go on a mission to help this bird find its home. So I lay on the floor in the gym where the bird was sitting, and holding out some rice in my hand, snake slide across the floor towards it, making coochy coochy noises and manage to get a glimpse of the birds ID tag. I stuck that into google and managed to find that the bird belonged to the Romanian Racing Pigeon Society. 

So our little bird was pretty far from home! The owners were quiet concerned with the little guy and wanted regular updates on his wellbeing and my progress in finding the bird its home- which I happily gave, on e-mail and over radio (which drove everyone mad). Everyone got over it really quickly though as the bird was just being a nuisance and shitting all over the teak deck and crew having to leave what they're doing to pigeon-sit. So we ended up making pigeon jokes the entire day. I found some really funny pigeon pics and stuck them up all over the crew mess which had everyone in hysterics:

 

The next day after some TLC the bird seemed to have flown away, so hopefully it’s home in Romania now.

So the cabbage soup diet... The girls see a personal trainer who suggested they go on a 5 day cabbage detox diet.  I thought I should give it a try as I have bugger all will power with food and dieting. For the first day you are only allowed to eat cabbage soup. As much as you want, but just watery, flavourless cabbage soup. I was hanging really badly from the night before so didn’t feel like eating much anyway so that kindof saved me. The next day we were allowed unlimited cabbage soup and a protein shake. By the end of that day I was weak, irritable and emotional from not eating in 2 days and all we could talk about was what delicious food we were going to stuff in our faces on Sunday when the diet was over. 

Yesterday, on day three (we were allowed to add in banana’s and berries) I managed to last the whole day sticking to the diet but was miserable as shit and when the food came out at dinner time I sat staring at the platters of fish and marinaded pork like a dog begging at a table. Our chef who was also on the diet obviously felt similarly, so he looked at me and said “ah fuck it” and then our other stew said “ah fuck it” and I said “ah fuck it” and we all grabbed a piece of fish and that was the end of the cabbage diet! Well today is the day after and I've managed to stay eating healthy and I've lost 7 pounds! Woohoo (now lets hope I can keep it up!)

Hope you enjoyed the stories :) Much love to you all!

The Caribbean!

What is it with me and travelling, seriously?! SERIOUSLY! 

After looking forward to my new job in the warm and sunny Caribbean, I was gutted when my Saturday flight had to be rescheduled to Tuesday, as the courier couldn’t deliver my visa on the allotted day (Friday) due to heavy snowfalls across the UK. Even in Portsmouth the snow was thick and covered the whole boat! 

 

My visa arrived on the Monday and the boat suggested I get to the airport that evening as my flight was incredibly early (I needed to be there at 5am). This was a good idea, as I have Murphy ’s Law when travelling and knowing my luck there would be another snowfall in the night that would prevent the taxi from getting me to the airport or something.

So I get to Heathrow the night before my 7am flight, to ensure I had enough time and reduce the chances of anything going wrong (which, in my case is anything and everything). I spent 68 pounds to stay in a “hotel” inside terminal 4 that was made up of tiny rooms- “cabins” in a long corridor. Well crikey I didn’t expect, for 70 pounds, to be staying in a room that Bilbo Baggins would have had to crouch in. If I ever joked before about the size of boat crew cabins being like Harry Potters “the cupboard under the stairs”, it was nothing compared to this. The bed is in a hole in the wall and the shower rains onto the toilet. 

 If you sit on the loo you can pretty much reach out and almost touch the bed:

Oh well I was happy to put up with it knowing I was literally inside terminal 4, so I could walk straight out and to the check in desk. I was actually proud of myself for being so organized for once. I even went and got my bag plastic wrapped that evening to avoid having to do it in the morning, and rewarded myself by taking a leisurely stroll around the airport later in the evening and getting a Ben & Jerry’s and a Chai Latte. 

I got up in time (4:30am) and was at the check in desk by 5am. I handed over my passport and the kind lady printed my boarding passes. 

And then it started...

“I see you don’t have a return ticket? Do you have an ongoing ticket to another destination?”

 “I don’t have a return ticket as I am working on a superyacht and I get onto the boat in St Maarten. The boat is then sailing to the Mediterranean and then back to Florida, so I only need a one way ticket.”

“Unfortunately you cannot fly to St Maarten without a return ticket or ongoing ticket. Immigration will not let you through as visitors can only stay for up to 90 days”. 

“But I’m not a visitor; I’m going to work on a boat?”

“Yes but the way it works is that your travel agent needs to issue you with a return ticket, even if it is not used and then they can refund it later. This is so that immigration lets you in to St Maarten and is standard practise in your case”.

“But I have a British passport and St Maarten is half French and half Dutch? It’s part of the EU and I have a British Passport, I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry ma’am that’s just the way it works with St Maarten. You need a return or ongoing ticket.”

“But they haven’t issued me with a return or other ticket and didn’t say anything about me needing one? What am I meant to do?” I croaked, dread now setting in.

The lady looked genuinely sorry for me and said she would find out what my options are and ran off to a supervisor. They both came back and he said that yes unfortunately there was no way they could let me get onto that flight without another ticket, so I would need to purchase one, to the cheapest/nearest destination and would just need to show this to immigration. 

“But I don’t have any money” I said in a small voice. I have been living off day to day pay the last 2 weeks and even had to borrow some from my dad to start me off in my new job. I had 90 pounds on me in cash. “How much is the ticket?” I asked. 

“Its 171 pounds” the supervisor stated with not a shred of sympathy.

“I don’t even think I have enough money to pay that?”

“Well then unfortunately you won’t be able to fly today and you’ll need to change the ticket- it is changeable- with the travel agent who booked it for you and they can sort it all out before tomorrow or give them a ring now and get them to purchase the additional ticket”.

“But they’re in Florida. Its 2am there, they won’t even be awake?”

“Well unfortunately those are your only options. And there is a second problem”

Are you fucking kidding me??

“Ya?"

“You are travelling on a seamans ticket is that correct? Can I please see your seaman’s book?”

A seaman’s ticket is for marine travellers (more expensive ticket) that allows the traveller to take up to TWO hold bags of 23kg EACH. Now most seafarers have what’s called a “seaman’s book” which is a document that pretty much proves that you are a seafarer. Well I (obviously) didn't have one.

“Um... I don’t actually have one....” I said, squirming a bit.

“But then we can’t let you take this additional bag without paying for it. We have no evidence that you are actually a seafarer”

I was now well and truly panicking but trying hard to calm myself the fuck down. 

“I have my employment contract on me and letter from the boat” I said.

This seemed to be passable and they made copies of it. But the supervisor was still adamant that I had to purchase the additional ticket, so whilst he was photocopying my documents I dashed over the cash machine and inserted every card I owned and milked it dry. Added to the money I had on me, I had enough cash by 19 pounds. What an incredibly close call.

The supervisor came back and gave me my documents and said I had 5mins before the gate closed so I had to purchase that ticket asap. I ran to the ticket desk and flabbergasted and panting, tried to explain in garbled English that I urgently needed this flipping ticket in the next 30 seconds or I was going to miss my flight. I got it and bolted through security and dashed down to the departure gate which was a tube ride and a kilometre of walking away, sidestepping passengers and bags and trying not to knock over old ladies or mow over small children. I was charged with so much anxiety and adrenalin. There was no fucking way I was going to miss this flight after all THAT shit.

I got to the gate and pretty much collapsed at the desk, wheezing and clinging onto it for support, head resting on arm, with my other hand outstretched with my passport and boarding pass. 

“Have I missed it?” I asked, gasping for breath.

“No you’re alright dear, we haven’t actually started boarding yet, we’re a bit delayed today, sorry about that” she said. “Why don’t you just take a seat, you’re all good now” and waved her arm over towards about 30 other people that I hadn’t even noticed in my frenzied dash, also all waiting to board.

Well I said a prayer of thanks right there and then (not the first that day), stripped off my layers from my run and went to get a bottle of water and then collapsed in a heap on the floor to catch my breath and wait for the gate to open. Fucking hell, what a day. The next thing that was worrying me was what to say to immigration. Did I tell the truth about the boat and show my papers or do I show them that ongoing ticket that Air France forced me to buy and say that I am just passing thrugh St Maarten. I hate making up stories. 

Before leaving Amaryllis, we (the crew) spent most evenings watching one of our favourite programmes “Nothing to Declare” which is about immigration and customs at airports in the UK, Sydney and Australia. Mostly it’s people trying to smuggle in drugs and how they catch them out and then they get jailed. But it’s also about people trying to get into the country on the wrong visa or their story just doesn’t match up, and they interrogate them with questions like “Why are you a woman travelling on your own”, “Why did a third party pay for your ticket and who is this employer?”, “If you are only here for a short stay, why do you have so many bags with you?”, “Who are you staying with here and for how long?” And half the time its okay, but the other half of the time the person gets deported because their story doesn’t add up and seems dodgy. So that was now my next concern and was making me really anxious. Absolutely knackered from stress and all the bolting around the airport, I fell into a deep sleep. 

I woke to the tinkle of the food trolley (typical). I had been a little hungry when I had gone to sleep but had shrugged it off. I still wasn’t really fully awake when they put the food tray down in front of me, but I suddenly realized that I’d been up since 4:30am and it was now 12pm and I was starving. Trust the French to put on a good show: Smoked salmon, keftas de volaille (meatballs??) with jus de tomate (Harry that one’s just for you), 2 ciabatta and a small camembert, mini crackers and a chocolate éclair. AND a bottle of red wine. Not offered as an extra, but included in the tray as she pulls it out from the rack. The “optional extra” was juice. Unbelievable. They can be a bunch of total wankers, but the French really do know how to eat and drink well. 

So whilst I’m here I have to tell you that my US visa almost went pear shaped aswell. You have to pay $160 online with a credit card (thanks Dad for organizing) and then you get emailed a confirmation letter and receipt, both of which you have to take with you to the embassy. My appointment was at 9:30am last Monday and I needed the visa by Friday, so it was already cutting it fine for time as the visa usually takes 5 days to process. So you can’t screw up your interview as it could be days before you got another. And they are pretty funny about having all the right info. So I went to London on the Sunday and stayed with my cousin that night.

After a nice dinner and some wine, I said goodnight and quickly read over my documents. Well, Murphy’s Law, I came across a line from the e-mail print out that stated “.....besides your letter of appointment and receipt, please also bring the confirmation page of the online application”. Online application?? What online application?! Panic setting in, I got out my laptop and clicked on the link- 10 pages of questions and details including parents birth dates, previous dates I went to the states and those visa numbers (all with my dad back home in the safe) etc. So now its midnight and I’m on the phone to SA trying to get all the info put in. Then I see that you have to have a photo- a digital visa photo and upload it to the page. I had to get my cousin to take one the next morning and the laptop wouldn’t read my memory card and it was more swearing and hair pulling as I’d missed the train by now. 

Finally it was done and I caught the next train, with all my extra clothes (summer stuff I’d collected from my cousin who had just returned from SA.I had to give him back ALL the winter things I had just brought from home as I now didn’t need them for a year). I got to London at 9:20am, galloped down the street to my friend Kathy’s office, literally chucked my bags on the floor and then ran down the road to the embassy. I got there at 9:30am huffing and puffing, and seeing a huge queue of 50 people, made my way to the officer in charge and said I was about to miss my appointment. 

“Everyone in this queue has a 9:30am appointment, you’re all good”.

Holy mackerel, the stress of not being organized is just getting way too much for me (hence why I made such an effort with my flight from Heathrow, but even that went pear shaped). It was snowing in London and it was freezing standing there in the cold outside. But all good things come, and after a 2hr wait I was granted a 10 year multiple entry B1/B2 visa- woohoo!

So I finally arrive in the warm and sunny Caribbean! I go through immigration and just say I’m here to get onto a boat and give them my boat papers and they let me through. They didn't even ask for any ongoing ticket and when I went to the ticket desk they said sorry it’s not refundable, so Air France basically screwed me by forcing me to buy a 200 pound ticket that I didn’t even need to use. Then to add insult to injury, I sit waiting patiently for my baggage until everyone has gone and the conveyor belt comes to a slow halt. The bunch of dicks has now also lost my luggage- well actually they’d left it in France. Wankers. Because of the whole last minute buying of the additional flight, my bags were rushed through but they obviously didn't make it to the plane. 

So I arrived in St Maarten a bit pissed off, but was met by my chief stewardess who is so lovely and as soon as I walked out into the 28 degree sun outside, I didn’t really care as much. There are so many superyachts here and the kiffest looking bars and restaurants lining the streets- all kinda ramshackled and Caribbean looking, with palm tree leaves and painted colourfully, with chalk boards boasting different happy hour specials. There are one or two upmarket, modern wine bars but they’re few and far between. The crew all seem really friendly and the girls are loads of fun and all very outgoing. We went out for dinner on my first night to a little Asian place on the main road and sat outside. There was a warm breeze and the sound of drums and Caribbean music wafted down the street. 

Then last night the boys took me to an area called Grand Casa on the french side of the island where we went to the most amazing bar/restaurant. It was literally on the sand and there was a band playing salsa music and a woman singing and dancing. There are lots of tables outside on the sand, going right down to the water and you can see all the catamarans in the ocean in the background.  

There was a little Caribbean girl who must have been only 5, who was there with her parents and she just couldn't get enough of the dancing, so I kheld her hands and danced with her and then later on she just wanted me to pick her up the whole time. She was so cute.

 

It was all exactly what I had pictured. I cannot wait to get out and explore this island. There is apparently so much to see and do and luckily I have 3 months to do it in! The diving is apparently amazing here and the boat has a connection, so I can go and do my PADI open water and I start beginning of Feb. There is a pajama party at a place called Sandbar tonight and then tomorrow I am going with the boys to Pinel Island which is in the marine reserve of St Martin. The beach is apparently beautiful and is considered to be one of the best snorkelling locations (pic below of compliments of Google):

We get a free gym membership to the resort gym which is about 100m away. It has a full gym, tennis courts, a pool and classes including spinning, pilates and salsa (so keen). Boss arrives on 1 Feb and then we work 5 days on 1 day off. But we get a 2hr break each day so you can go to the gym still or go to the resort and just lie by the pool in the sun or go to the beach. So it’s a pretty great deal!  Absolutely loving life right now although I do miss the kiwi boy a bit :)