Just at the edge of town lie the ruins of Ft. Louis. In the evenings this is all lit up with blue, white and red lights. 

According to the interpretive placards, hardy groups of French settlers spent more than 100 years arriving and settling, and then just when they got settled, the British would come in, steal what they could, and burn the rest. The cycle repeated with sad regularity. 

Finally a new French governor came in the 1770s and said “You know, if we put a couple of guns on that hill, nobody could land here without permission.” Many of the settlers said “Great idea” while a few old-timers said “THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO FUCKING TELL YOU FOR OVER 100 YEARS.”

It worked. And then peace broke out, and that was that. 

So now, we get to hike up there and ponder the lessons and the view. 



(On the Dutch side of the island, that would be “Aall creatures”)

I have some underwater shots that I’ll fiddle with later, but in the meantime, 

This heron was going through a complicated stealthy maneuver that reminded me of a kitty… sneak, sneak, sneak, then all of a sudden take a short bath. 

There are other cool tropical birds here, but I haven’t gotten close enough to get good shots. I especially like the frigate birds who glide around the harbor, looking prehistoric with their angular wings and split tails. 

Because they get a steady diet of watermelon and banana and sometimes rum-soaked pineapple garnish, these Pinel Island iguanas suffer our presence. But they dream of the return of the Mother of Dragons when things will be rebalanced, species-superiority-wise. 

And of course, when it’s warm and humid and you don’t have to hide underground all winter, you can evolve in comfort. This is certainly the biggest, healthiest snail I’ve ever seen. 

Our apartment is right next to the Marigot Cemetery. Although the municipal authorities have undertaken a campaign to clean it up and better catalog the deceased, it’s mostly in rough shape. 

All those zombie movies about people clawing their way out of their graves make a lot more sense with above-ground crypts, some open to the air, others flimsily covered with rotting plywood or corrugated tin. Presumably those ones are unoccupied… or are they?

Here’s what we look at from the dining table. As advertised, we’re right on the main road, but the view over the marina is maybe better than expected. 

A lot of people wouldn’t want to be so close to traffic, or would say they prefer the open water view to looking out on the harbor. There’s definitely something to be said for the unspoiled natural beauty thing. For me, though, the convenience of walking to everything outweighs the sound of traffic, and the comings and goings of inflatable launches and ferries and so on are much more an interest than a disruption. So, yay, paradise found, right downtown!