We spent an energetic morning, prowling the street of Grand Case, trying to find a car rental place. We finally found one, but it showed no signs of life. Grand Case has a small airport but, of course, it never occurred to us to go there. We decided to take a bus bound for Marigot. Frisha thought we were highly adventurous to do so, but the buses on St. Martin proved to be far more civilized than those we have experienced on other islands. For 2 euros apiece (about a fifteenth of the cost of a taxi), we were deposited right by the centre of Marigot—an easy walk to the marina and, we hoped, car rental information.
No such luck. The chappy waved a hand in the general direction of Europe and suggested we’d find something up there. I proposed visiting a hotel and asking the concierge. There we found a flyer for a car rental place based, naturally, in Grand Case. “But wait!” I cried. On the back of the folder were maps for the company’s two locations, one not far off in Marigot. We started to walk. We walked and walked and eventually turned into an unlikely looking street combining post-industrial with neo-concrete architecture in an alluring fashion. Frisha and Whit stood on the main road and looked down this thoroughfare with deep scepticism. WW and I marched forward and found…a hotel. WW entered while I called the doubters to join us.
Inside, the nice lady told us the car rental place had closed at this location and is based only at the Grand Case airport. Sigh. However, she was willing to call them up and see what could be done. After much toing and froing, she told us it would be half an hour. Fine. It was beer o’clock and there was a nice little bar by a pool in a garden. WW and Whit ordered beer, I asked for white wine. Sorry, no wine. Seriously?? This is France. Ah well.
Eventually we had a car. We drove it up a very steep road for a long way, past homes of the fabulously wealthy with views of the fabulously wealthy, then we parked at the bottom of a very steep and stony trail. Up we hiked, higher and higher, until we reached the top of Pic Paradis. An array of radio and microwave antennae greeted us, but also truly spectacular views down to Orient Beach on the east of the island and to Philipsburg in the southwest. We felt fabulously wealthy.
That night we had a superb meal at the Auberge Gourmand in Grand Case, one of a number of outstanding restaurants in the little town that vie to produce extraordinarily fine food.
The wind continued to roar.
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