Island hop till you just can't stop

My last full day of vacation came around before I knew it.  Rather than let that get me down, I played the game of "depression suppression"by resolving simply to make the most of the time I had left.  Fortunately for me, there was still so much to see and do, so when the alarm went off at some ungodly hour on Wednesday, I didn't even mind the early start.

Wednesday - Hey Sister!

Like a pair of decaffeinated gluttons for punishment, S-West and I lined up before 9am on Wednesday for a coffee at Rituals - this time at their store in the St Kitts capital, Basseterre.

We needed the fortification that day; not simply because of the time but as a way to steel ourselves for some tourist pushing and shoving aboard the 45-minute ferry ride from Basseterre to Charlestown, the capital of St Kitts's sister island of Nevis.

When I'm in New York and have the good fortune of taking the ferry, I like to stand outside to get the full benefit of the cool sea breeze, and the occasional splash of water or sea spray.  Fortunately for me, the ferry to Nevis catered to my particular whims, only this time I didn't have to jostle anyone for space (phew!).  We all had ample seating on the top deck - no pushing or shoving required.  The waters were calm, the sea breeze was beautiful, and the notion of going home the next day was banished from my mind.

Did you know that there are no traffic lights on St Kitts or on Nevis?  I don't know what their car accident rates are, but not once was I ever worried about my safety on the roads.  And when you get to Nevis, driving is not even something you have to think about.  Taxis are plentiful, though they're not the yellow cab kind that New Yorkers are accustomed to seeing.  Taxis in Nevis are well-maintained (and blessedly air conditioned) passenger vans that you can actually hire for a simple transfer, or charter for the whole day.  A friend of Kitty's mum had pre-arranged the latter option for us and our guide (named Ford) was fantastic.  Once we were all settled in, Ford distributed laminated maps of Nevis; he strapped on his microphone headset; and we were on our way.

After pointing out some of the historical buildings on the main street of Charlestown, Ford took us to the site of the Bath Hotel which was constructed in 1778.  It had been the first tourist hotel in the Caribbean and the celebrity hang-out of its day.  The Hotel is now used for Government offices, but just across the street you can still splash about in the Bath Spring.  Ford told us that the water in the spring is said to contain minerals that have a soothing, medicinal quality and people come for miles to soak their aching bones.  But you can't soak for too long - the water is maintained at over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

On the day that we arrived, an old man was having a restorative bird bath in the hot water, stark bollocks naked.  Our visit caused some consternation amongst the neighbourhood gentlemen, who scurried around, urgently stage-whispering, "He's got no pants!".  We waved them off and surged forward, nonchalant New Yorkers who have seen much weirder stuff on the subways.  All the same, rather than joining the mirthful bather, S-West and I instead decided to dunk our feet in the smaller pool.  When we emerged a few minutes later, you could clearly see the red rings around our legs where the hot water had been.

As we continued driving through the winding streets of Charlestown, Ford told us about the "skirt and blouse" houses - the photo's not so great but see how that house has stone on the bottom storey and wood upstairs?  This type of architecture is really common in the capital, and I really liked the fashionable analogy.  Easy to remember.

Further along, we passed the Jewish cemetery, marking the resting places of the mostly Portuguese Jews who had fled persecution and settled in Nevis.  There isn't a huge Jewish population in Nevis these days, but nevertheless I found it interesting to learn - particularly as in Nevis (and in St Kitts), Anglican and Catholic churches abound - so why not Jewish synagogues?

Our next stop was the local cricket ground, which on the day we visited was being used by a school group running track races.  A dry pitch (nothing that a decent rain wouldn't fix) and it was no stretch to imagine the West Indies cricket team belting the ball around there.

Like St Kitts, reminders of the sugar industry are everywhere in Nevis.  The sugar mills seem to be better preserved here though, which is something that became immediately obvious to us when we pulled into the very glamorous Montpelier Plantation Inn.

Ford had just finished telling us that the late Princess Diana had stayed at Montpelier with her boys back when they were small, and it remains one of the most exclusive accommodation options on the Island.  Guests guard their privacy zealously but I couldn't resist taking a few snaps of the immaculate grounds, including an old sugar mill that had been converted into a private dining space.

Leaving the glitterati behind, we jumped back in the car and drove to The Botanical Gardens of Nevis. We wandered through the beautiful grounds in 30 minutes - twice as fast as the brochure recommends - but we still had ample time to appreciate the diversity of the flora, and even the fauna (in the form of some cheeky parrots in the rainforest enclosure, and a lizard that posed for a photograph before scuttling up the wall).

All this culture and learning had made me quite hungry. Can you believe we'd already seen so much and it wasn't even lunch time yet?  

I remember feeling rather relieved when Ford revved the taxi van's engine and steered us ever skyward up the steep Nevis hills to Golden Rock - a beautiful resort with a rather elegant restaurant, owned by American artist Brice Marden (whose colourful work we had earlier admired at Montpelier).  On this property too, the sugar mill had been repurposed - this time into the lovely bridal suite.  After lunch, S-West and I went exploring and quite by chance we happened upon the suite, but we saw a pair of men's boardshorts draped over the chair out front.  Rather than peer through the windows, we figured we'd leave the new Mr & Mrs to their business (whatever that might be!).

Our ferry back to St Kitts was scheduled to depart a little after 4.30pm, and Kitty and S-West had said there was one last place in Nevis that I needed to see.  Ford drove us through the expansive grounds of the Four Seasons complex but we kept right on going.

Finally, our destination came into view.  Sunshine's was one tourist destination I didn't mind visiting.  It's the most popular beach bar on the Island, with a world-famous knockout rum punch called a "Killer Bee".  Of course I had to have one, cause if a drink's good enough for Beyonce and Jay-Z, it's good enough for me.  We also met the owner, Mr Sunshine himself, but he was famously coy about the ingredients of the celebrated beverage.  Our expert powers of deduction however concluded that a "Killer Bee" contains about a million different kinds of rum, pineapple juice (or was it passionfruit?), and a sprinkling of nutmeg on top.  Served with lots of ice, it was a tasty and welcome beverage to round out our day - but one drink was definitely plenty.  I was just so glad that Kitty and S-West made sure Ford brought us there.

Admittedly the day had taken it out of me and I was a bit more subdued on the ferry home to St Kitts.  Nevis is less populated than its sister island and for all the sight-seeing we did, I think Nevis is much more tailored to the "rest and relaxation" set.  If I ever get a private jet, I'm taking it to Nevis and staying at the Four Seasons - you heard it here first.

For my last night in St Kitts, S-West and Kitty had yet another treat in store.  This time we went to Sprat Net in the capital, Basseterre.  I'm disappointed my photos didn't work out because when we went, the place was packed and there was a live calypso band playing.  A bunch of middle-aged white tourists with no discernible rhythm also got up to dance, which was embarrassing for everyone really.  I didn't get out of my seat, but in between mouthfuls of succulent chicken wings and tasty fries, I definitely grooved on the spot.  After a couple of ice-cold Caribs, S-West and I indulged in a local rum (CSR) with Coke.  We stopped after one, but that did seem a shame.

After 5 full days in St Kitts and Nevis, I was sunburned, tired, and totally blissed out.  The previous two heinous weeks at work were definitely behind me, replaced by the best Caribbean memories.  I will remain grateful to S-West and Kitty for making sure we took this trip, and of course to Kitty's mum for opening her home to me and making sure the tastiest local treats made it into my belly.

As I flew back to New York on Thursday morning, I realised that this was the last overseas holiday I would be able to take before my passport expires.  But the travel bug has bitten me once again and it's time to start planning the next adventure.  Where will it be?