ST. MARTIN — Day 4

It was another super-relaxing day at the local beach:


After lounging around and doing absolutely nothing for an hour or two, I went for 20-minute jog from one end of the beach to the other. Amy had lent me some type of fancy smartphone watch, which told me the distance (1.65 miles) and my pace (slow, but whatever — YOU try jogging barefoot on a slanted beach with thick sand and waves rolling in up to your ankles).

A bit later, I took a half-mile walk with my mom. Here’s what it looked like at one point:


I was amused by this “Miami Heat” boat . . .


. . . and this 8-ball buoy:


Here’s a man and his dog:


Here’s my mom:


Here are Amy and Martha with their kayaking/snorkeling guide:


The guide told us that he grew up on the northern coast of France, where the weather is awful. He moved to St. Martin five years ago, works here full-time on the beach, and now has a wife and a little kid on the island — not a bad life.

While Amy and Martha did their thing, my mom and I escaped the mid-day sun inside the condo:


In the late afternoon, Martha challenged me to a game of Scrabble . . .


. . . which we never finished. I *hate* that. I’d rather lose by 200 points than end prematurely.

As the sun began to set, I went for another jog on the beach and did a few sprints because why not? Also, it’s never too early to start getting in shape for baseball season.

At 7pm we all walked down the main street . . .


. . . to a BBQ place called Sky’s The Limit, which came highly recommended from the locals. Here’s what I ate:


That’s a chicken and rib combo with cole slaw, spaghetti, potato salad, rice and beans, mac and cheese, and salad.

Speaking of cole slaw, here’s a whole lot of it on the floor:


Our waitress dropped a huge container of it, and before it was fully cleaned up (and the floor was still slick with mayonnaise residue), a customer slipped in it. One of the employees grabbed his arm and caught him just before he crashed to the floor. It was hilarious in a glad-that-wasn’t-me kinda way.

Martha requested that I get a photo of our waitress, whose name tag said “Lolipop”:


On our way back from dinner, we stopped in a little store called Sexy Fruits:


Whaddaya know?! There was something baseball-related:


Look what was inside the baseball:



I was tempted to buy it because, as Martha said, “That’s soooo YOU.” But eh. I have no place in my life for useless trinkets.

Here I am with my mom and Martha:


I didn’t buy the pink cowboy hat either, but it does look good on me, no?

The one thing I did buy (at a teeny grocery store down the street) was a “Chubby” bubble gum-flavored soda:


How can you NOT buy something like that? And by the way, did you notice Martha pointing at her chubby stomach in the background? And did you notice her St. Louis Cardinals t-shirt? She’s swell.

As for the soda, it was extremely sweet and artificial and bubble-gummy, and I loved it — but only enough to have two sips. Martha tried it and said, “It tastes like frosting,” and she was absolutely right.


  1. Zack Hample

    Ha, yes, they certainly do. I’m home now but still have two more days of the trip to blog about . . .

    I thought it was a smoothie place (or something like that) when I first saw the sign.

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