(This entire 17-part story can be found in the “travel” category.)
Life in St.Thomas, US Virgin Islands afforded us plenty of time to enjoy the sights. One night a week I would cook dinner – red beans and rice – at our house and we’d eat out on the deck and enjoy a calm night of watching the stars and the harbor. The other six nights of the week, we went out and partied!
Blake, Aaron, Doug, and myself had a ball exploring the different bars and restaurants. There were plenty of other “continentals” we met, including a bunch of utility crews from Alabama and Mississippi that had been sent over, trucks and all, to help restore the island after the destruction caused by Hurricane Hugo. The camaraderie was great and it brought lifelong friendships.
Sundays, our day off, were usually spent at Coki Beach. This was a typical beautiful, narrow Caribbean beach, located at the opposite end of St. Thomas. I would normally hitchhike over there about 9am and swim and lay on the beach. Aaron and Doug would grab a bus later and show up by noon. We’d spend the rest of the winter day enjoying the 90 degree water and alternating taking trips to the island vendor a hundred yards away who sold ice cold Heinekens for two bucks apiece.
Blake went back to the states after a couple months, so Doug and Aaron gave up their apartment and moved it with me. It saved them on rent by having an extra person to share expenses, and my place was much nicer. Our landlord, the little old guy nearly 90 years old, also owned a home on St. John, which along with St. Croix made up the US Virgin Islands.
He needed repairs done on that house, so for awhile I would have Aaron and Doug drop me off at the ferry on Saturday afternoon, then I’d take the seven mile boat ride to St. John. Sunday morning, I’d be outside by 6am doing repairs. Aaron and Doug would get off the ferry at 10am, then we’d spend the rest of the day exploring St. John. We had use of the landlord’s jeep, so we drove way up into the mountains, checking out nature trails, old sugar plantations, and the local scene. St. John, with just 6,000 inhabitants, is the most beautiful of the Virgin Islands. The other two islands have about 50,000 residents each.
Life was almost a dream. The four-foot long iguanas sitting 40 feet up in trees, the dolphins, the huge sea turtles, Megan’s Bay, the beaches, the splendid oceanview homes and estates, the sailboats and yachts and cruise ships, and the hustle and bustle of an island rebuilding after a hurricane made life serendipitous.
But there was a dark side to the Virgin Islands. Crime. I know I’m generalizing, maybe even stereotyping, but a large segment of the male population did not work. It was the women that carried the load, did the tourist-related jobs. The women dressed up and went to work everyday to make money to feed and clothe their family. A much smaller percentage of men had gainful employment.
This led to problems with alcohol abuse and drug abuse. Especially crack. The crack problem was near epidemic. No wonder every first floor window in the entire Caribbean seems to have bars over it. Break-ins were rampant, a sure sign of desperate drug addicts. We let a local guy use our bathroom once. After he left, our watches were all gone. Unbelievably, he denied it!
Aaron, Doug, and Blake each took their turns getting robbed at knifepoint or gunpoint on the streets, sometimes even in daylight. I never got robbed, which can probably be attributed to the fact that I was over 15 years older than them, looked a bit rougher (okay, a lot), and didn’t wear designer sunglasses and clothes like they did. I wasn’t a target, they were.
Inevitably, crime is the reason most continentals eventually leave the US Virgin Islands, or anywhere in the Caribbean for that matter. After more than a half year in St. Thomas, it was enough to send me packing, just like everyone else.
- Mountain Man
Tags: blog, hitchhiking blog, travel blog, US Virgin Islands