Days 3-6

I woke up the next morning wondering what happened the night before, but was surprisingly less hung over than I should have been after about 30 straight hours of drinking. That was a nice perk as I didn't want to spend a day of drinking recovering from drinking. Kristy and I headed into town to do some exploring, did a little shopping, but were really itching to go do some sitting on the beach.

We posted up on Coco beach, and it was at this point that I realized that the French have an uncanny ability to artistically tell you that you're an asshole without the smile leaving their face. Something in the overall tone and composition of words. Quite fascinating really, but somehow after waiting beerless on the beach for too long of a time, I wandered over to the bar to order a Carib (I fired the president) and felt guilty for doing so. Bartender tells me that he'll bring me the beer, he tells me that he'll bring me the beer, and I didn't even have a chance to complain about not being served beer, and walked back to the beach kinda giggling really. Finally when he came back I asked for buckets of beer and this was acceptable to all parties involved (thank God).

When the sun was finally gone and the beers finally empty, we wandered a couple doors down for some dinner and had the most wonderful Pad Thai. We chatted with the French bartender (who was awesome) and learned about his adventures and how he ended up behind this bar on this beautiful beach. It was an awesomely relaxing day. Poker Radio

Day four was get out and explore day. We did a bunch of driving around but both ended up being pretty exhausted, came home early, and just hung out. I really got into a Richard Bach book called "A Bridge Across Forever." It's a somewhat autobiographical with some fictional flair thrown into the mix and is a style I really like. The book is both deep and a good read and has definitely influenced my thinking.

Day five, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.. No cake, no party, no moment of celebration, but it was the best birthday of my life. Kristy and I headed to Baie Le Galion, this beach we found just down the coast that was a bit less untouched. At this beach is the Saint Martin surf club. Met the guy who runs the thing, French guy, and super cool. Basically he was running a surf camp for groms and every once in a while a tourist would show up and rent a board or ask for lessons. I rented a board, a decent enough 8'6", and asked him about the break.

Apparently I had picked a good time to go out wave wise, but man was it a paddle to get out there. It was a reef break and not very big at that. I guess that the Atlantic and Caribbean are not known for their waves or swell energy, but I was stoked to be out there. The break was different than anything I had ever ridden before and it was fun to get out.

On the paddle back in (also something foreign to me... I've been spoiled in the ease of accessibility to awesome surf in Cali), the French launched their animal campaign to gross me out. In the middle of the bay with nobody looking or listening, I got the biggest handful of ooey gooey I have ever encountered in the water. It wiggled when I whacked it with my swim stroke, but the texture and lack of fin or anything in the entire palm of my hand made me wonder what it was. Naturally I let out a bit of a scream, but then found myself lying on a surfboard in the Atlantic ocean laughing my ass off.

After we closed down that beach, we drove to a different beach north of Orient Beach and found the dump on the French side, naturally right in the middle of paradise. Tucked back away on top of one of these mountains? Nah, right on the beach. Why? Because we are French. We ended up hanging out there as the sun set, and Kristy and I had a beautiful evening together. We came back to the villa and decided to simply go to the restaurant that was in the resort. It was very elegant, fine dining, and French. The food was very tasty (once I got over the fact of how different it was... no chance I eat any of the courses ten years ago). We shared a bottle of awesome Pinot Noir and sat for hours European style simply enjoying our meal together. As we relaxed on our table by the pool outside, towards the bottom of our glasses, I leaned back, put my right arm toward Kristy intending on resting it on the short glass wall behind me. My hand found the top of the post, and on top of that post was a toad. I make some high pitched embarrassing squeal which transitions into laughter within the same breath, and the toad is still sitting there looking at us like, "What?" I mean, wtf?!? I'm already surrounded by frogs but now this toad rubbernecking on my birthday dinner? LOL. Ended up holding the cute little amphibian for a bit but didn't give him any of the funky food that I am sure he was interested in.

Day 6 was the quintessential lighting of money on fire for the Caribbean shopping spree, and between the two of us we created enough smoke that would have required a declaration through customs. I said happy birthday to me and got a nice Movado and a bracelet with almost 2 ct worth of bling in it. I'm not the fancy schmancy type, but I do like nice things in the right settings, and I like having a few nice pieces of jewelry. I also love Cuban cigars and bought a box of those, so smoking parties will be at my house for a while now :-).

So, after the nice evening on the beach, we ended up what is turning into what is rapidly becoming our favorite beach/spot on the island, Bikini Beach on the shores of Orient Bay. That evening we ran into our friends from the first evening on the island, and I felt like I was getting to know somebody that I knew I knew but didn't know how I knew them. I re-learned all the basics, and we enjoyed the evening together. At one point it was Mark and I on one side of the bar, and about four feet away was Kristy and his girlfriend Brenda. Behind them on their bar-top a huge, ginormous French cockroach walked up behind the women. I was about to say something, give a warning, when Mark said, "No... wait." At the moment I interpreted his warning as wisdom, ie. it doesn't matter what they know as long as the cockroach doesn't touch them, and it's looking like it won't.

Now, after that little piece of wisdom, aparrently I had infuriated the gods of karma, and within about 20 minutes I found myself screaming in a very high pitched tone, because the biggest cockroach I had ever seen in my life was on my arm. After much deduction, I realized that the damn bug had dive bombed me, falling/jumping/intentionally-attacking-with-ferouscious-downward-velocity, and ended up on my arm intentionally to freak me out. Anyways, not much I can do about it after the fact since the damn thing was vanished by the time I wanted to kill it, and I collapsed into laughter. The French women to my left scurried for the hills (sand dunes, rocks, barstools, taxis, etc...) while my friends Mark and Brenda laughed and Kristy smiled compassionately (but thoroughly glad that it was me not her :).
 

For the record, the last two paragraphs of this blog are written on the same bar where the cockroach attacked me. They have free wi-fi, and good for all involved I get to post thing and read things here now on this Island, mon. As far as my last (important) blog is concerned, THANK YOU so much for all the comments left. Y'all have no idea how important they are to me, and it has made me infinitely happier on this already paradise-like island.

Peace and good luck,

Devo

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