TOO HAPPY

Despite a non-friendly port-authority, rolly anchorage, broken outboard motor and a €6 per day anchoring fee, I'm just too god damn happy these days. That's a real problem and it pisses me right off....

I recently got another feedback letter (thanks Craig) and at the end of it was a passing joke suggesting that I'm just waaay too happy these days. It's true and It's obviously very good to be happy. But I got stuck with that thought and realised again something that I've known for a very long time: For me to produce the kind of ranting that colours the earlier writings of this site, I must be at least a little pissed off or somewhat depressed. When we arrived in St. Barthelemy to see my childhood friend Markku, he very quickly noted to me the difference from my brief 2006 visit. "You look happy now" -he said.

That's a worry. Now I need to learn how to write, rave and rant while being happy... But then, why do I worry? Does it matter what I write? Yep. It seems to matter a great deal to me because this site still isn't a blog or a diary of events for others to see what I'm up to. Facebook is for that. And for those who have invited me to Facebook, sorry. I have an attitude problem with Facebook. I don't feel the need to report to everyone everything I do, feel, buy, endorse and so on. With the true friens that I have, I would not insult them with a public diary where they can "see me", but rather send them a personal letter, a personal e-mail or give them a good old phone call, even if they're oceans away. They don't have to be on Skype, I'll pay for the call. There is no price for hearing the voice and talking one-on-one with a good friend. So it's fuck-the-facebook for now. We'll see if my attitude changes as I get older. Some people get softer when they get older and maybe I too will tone down my passions. In fact, my attitude towards Facebook is probably something I need to change soon...

By the way, my friend Kapitan Beastaurd Peedoff does have a Facebook page, but he's such an asshole that I doubt he would accept anyone as a friend. He's gone missing anyway and haven't heard from him for ages.

For the Better people

Gustavia was ready for these guys. Dior, Cartier, Louis Vuitton and a whole string of others were ready to sell cheaply made shit at a price that only the dumbest or richest on earth is willing to pay.

Even the mega-rich were willing to roll and wallow and wobble onboard their yachts in a harbour that had their mooring lines strech to the max every 5 seconds. Anything, as long they are allowed to pay the highest prices and the highest port fees in the Caribbean.
That way, you know you're somebody.

Every now and again I come across people who think themselves more or less better than others. Because they have education? Because they have a pale skin? Because they have money? Because they think that having all of the above makes them better human beings? Because they think they are smarter and more intelligent by birth? If you ask me, the reason is because they have their heads buried deep up their rectums and their world ends around their assholes. Eating your own shit all day makes you self-sufficient. St. Barthelemy didn't have that problem. The island only had better people and so it was a case of collective happiness about their betterness.

All my life, I always wanted to be somebody.
Now I see that I should have been more specific.”

- Lily Tomlin -

The reason we sailed to St. Barts was to meet my old friend and his wife. That we did and for that, our visit was wonderful. But this is not really the place for me to tell the world about how wonderful and lovely M and A were and how well they looked after us, fed us, let us use their car for sightseeing and so on. If they weren't lovely people, we wouldn't have gone there. But the island itself? Hmmm.... interesting. Beautiful. French. Boutique. Yeah, like some shops are not just shops but they're boutiques. St.Barts is not an island. It's a Boutiqe Island. If you know what I mean...

This may be one reason the arrivals to St. Barts come mostly on mega-yachts. The short airstip, hiding beneath and between the the lowest hill and the sea, forces the pilots to make steep and short landings. There has been incidents of the plane actually making contact with a car on the road below... This is about the size of the aircraft that lands here.

Some of the resident yachting population were suffering from autism. Perhaps it was a specific form - St.Barts Autisim. The symptoms were clear when we passed within a boat's lenght from other yachts and people on the deck were looking at us. I smiled and waved: "Bonjour" or "Good Morning". But they were frozen, their eyes locked into mine but their bodies unable to move, unable to smile, unable to greet or lift their hand. Some - after repeated greetings - managed a twich of their upper body. On the streets of Gustavia, things were a little better but even there you could easily spot the other tourist - from his/her happy greeting and smile - while the locals were suffering from various degrees of the horrible Autism, clearly eating away slowly but surely their ability to embrace the world around them. (I'm not talking about their behaviour toward eachother, just toward me.)

It must be awful to live such a debilitating life, looking at the world around you and not being able to participate. It's almost like living your life inside your own ass, peering out occasionally but as there comes a moment of having to face another being, the head goes back in and the whole person freezes. I have seen such symptoms before and in some larger cities it seems to be quite common. But on an island of 8000 residents, the size of Nauru? (Nauru - the Finish word for "laughter", by the way) This form of Autism may well be spreading and become a disease more detrimental to this planet than HIV&AIDS. Yet, Antigua didn't seem to be suffering from it at all...

Lovely. Walking around, looking for a nice photo opportunity, I found a nice little resort ... sorry, a Boutique Resort... with the perfect little swimming pool overlooking the outer harbour.
It turned out to be a private residence. Sorry.

Money Matters

St. Barts is sometimes said to be the St. Tropez of Caribbean. I've never been in St. Tropez. The island is beautiful and has several nice beaches. The tiny inner harbour is lined with mega-yachts, even though the water is wallowing and surging, making boarding difficult and causing a constant jerking on the mooring lines. The have-too-much's don't seem to care about it. They wan't to be seen in St. Barts because that's the hip place. And yes, it is quite hip. Properties are about the most expensive in the Caribbean area. A 2-bedroom house with no view could go for €1 million but try to find a piece of land about the size of a chess board with an ocean view and you're looking at 10-20 times more. (Don't quote me on the prices, I'm just ranting...)

The island has been passed over and sold many times over the history - from French to the Maltese Knights, back to the French West Indies company, to the Swedes (they had it for about a century) and finally back to the Frogs... sorry, French. The islanders are still fiercly St. Bartians and do not consider themselves French living on a French island. Even though the culture and language is definitely French, there is no real affinity with the French government by the locals. As with many such outposts dotting the world's oceans, the true long-term local population feels a sense of autonomy and pride for their own home. Such is the case here too. I know, thanks to the insights provided by my friend and his St.Barts-born wife. The "inside" feeling of St.Barts was in fact very warm, relaxed and friendly. The outside was busy, hurried, unfriendly and rushed. Poor people, living on a wonderful island, running like headless chicken to make ends meet? Maybe. The wages on the island are high, only matched by the outrageous cost of living.

Gustavia's streets were narrow and while the town was charming and beautiful, the traffic was congested and there were often no space for pedestrians at all.

The island's transformation toward the high-end tourism started when the Rockefeller family built themselves a holiday home. More American investors got interested and over the years the local government has focused their efforts specifically into attracting the "better people". During my last visit in 2006, the fee for anchoring in the rather swelly and unprotected bay was only .... was it €4 per day. Now the price was €6 per day. That's for 9.75m x 3m. Anchoring a big one will cost you more. The many gypsy-like local yachts that try to make the most of living on the water and collecting european wages have also been hit, with annual mooring fees trebling. The local government wants to see only the rich and the beautiful occupying their waters.

The St.Bastard outboard died suddenly. After only just avoiding destroying it completely by over-enthusiasticly pulling it apart, I found the problem. Even though I had already cleaned the carburator twice, I finally found one more jet full of crap from dirty fuel. 6 hours of swearing and it's all good again.

Not surprising, our visit concentrated mostly on spending time with our friends. As lovely as it was - I really could have stayed a lot longer but I was afraid I would develop autism... - we had to move on. The real reason was of course that we had gone 60 miles westward from Antigua and the relentless easterly trades would make it hard to get back on track for exploring the rest of Leeward Islands. With a forecast of NE winds for one day, we made a move. After 8 hours of motor-sailing, we managed a good 18 hours of sailing and found ourselves going from riches to rags, to a whole different island of France.

The beaches in St.Barts were lovely, as was the whole island with its narrow windy roads. The water in the harbour was so clear we could see the anchor all the way at the end of the chain. Unfortunately with the wind being just S of E, the swell made life quite uncomfortable onboard.

Previous: Antigua

Next: Guadeloupe