Sint Maarten or Saint-Martin, is an island that has been split between France and The Netherlands for centuries, and despite occasional trouble in Europe, the relations between the neighbours on the island were almost always fine. But split is visible.
Narrow street in Philipsburg
The island is split into two dependent territories – the Dutch colony, part of the Dutch Antilles – called Sint Maarten, and the French department called Saint-Martin. The border between those two does not exist, as it practically does not in Europe, since both France and The Netherlands are part of the European Union, and both singed the Schengen Agreement.
I immediately felt the charm of the island. Well, to be completely honest, I could not believe the chaos with taxis at the Dutch airport. Then, I was definitely unimpressed with the traffic.
Favourite spots:
Colourful architecture of St Maarten
However, I felt so at home when I saw the plenitude of waterfront bars and restaurants. My jaw almost dropped when I drove onto Philipsburg main street. It was a narrow, single-lane, one way avenue lined with fine palm trees and excellent shops. Colonial Dutch architecture adapted to the heavenly Caribbean climate just complemented the overall charm!
What's really great:
Waterfront of Philipsburg
As soon as I miraculously checked in at the most chic (and the first ever) hotel of Philipsburg, the Pasanggrahan Royal, I stepped on the beach and almost jumped in awe. The town beach was superb and a megaclean beach level promenade separating the beach sand from the hotels' and households' buildings was a pleasant surprise. I loved that esplanade. It was so civilised! Some of the beach-front bars and eateries placed comfy couches and armchairs directly on the beachsand among baby palmtrees. How cool was that?
Sights:
Old Marina
In addition to the grand buildings on the main street, I went to see the historical Philipsburg. It was simply part of the marina lined with old wooden houses now converted to shops, restaurants, bars and a terrible casino.
Accommodations:
Pasanggrahan Royal Hotel's waterfront garden and terrace restaurant
As soon as I miraculously checked in at the most chic (and the first ever) hotel of Philipsburg, the Pasanggrahan Royal, I stepped on the beach and almost jumped in awe. The town beach was superb and a megaclean beach level promenade separating the beach sand from the hotels' and households' buildings was a pleasant surprise. I loved that esplanade. It was so civilised! Some of the beach-front bars and eateries placed comfy couches and armchairs directly on the beachsand among baby palmtrees. How cool was that?
Nightlife:
Main shopping street in Philipsburg
In the evening the beach-front entered into its different form of life. Many of the bars sponsored bands to play live, some of which were quite good when sticking to easy songs. Others tried to perform more ambitiously with rather mixed results. So mixed that I could not really listen to it, and I moved on.
Hangouts:
A little square in Philipsburg
I eventually landed in an extremely comfortable ottoman on my personal verandah attached to my hotel room. If the crimson bougainvillaea had not grown so tall I would have enjoyed the view of the beach. Instead, I lied down out of anyone's sight and listened to one of the bands playing at the Get Wet Bar. I guess Philipsburg made a great impact on me as it was the first town so far on my holiday with beach-front facilities, bars, restaurants, shops, etc. First in three months of travelling.
Restaurants:
A night falling on St Maarten
In the morning, I crossed to the French side of the island with the aim to have breakfast at one of Marigot's countless cafes. Surprisingly, the French side appeared much less developed and seriously underinvested. Whilst Sint Maarten appeared like a separate state of the Netherlands, with its own flag and currency, Saint Martin definitely demonstrated that it was a French Department, fully integrated with the Republic of France, flying the blue/white/red French flag, dealing in euro and riding French car registration plates.
There were a few colonial French buildings around but not enough to create elegant ambiance. It was a pity.
I was also hoping for a larger number of French-style cafes and bars. I could not even see the French baguette breads around. The eateries were opening very late as well. I could not make up my mind where I should sit down and relax, breakfasting on something hybrid, combing French and local cuisine.
I walked around the small town of Marigot for about an ho
Other recommendations:
A church overlooking a small square in Philipsburg
My taxi driver did not speak Spanish, which I found interesting. I figured he must have arrived from a poorer Carib state and never learnt Papiamento or Spanish. He was hopeless avoiding traffic or entering one way street wrongly. He also told me in his heavy Caribbean accent that he could not hate more doing jobs for the local people. He did realise it was racist but could not helping telling me. He mentioned that the locals often lived in difficult to reach places, on dirty roads and carried smelly bags. He said it was ruining his van and leaving it smell of fish or dead goats.
Apparently locals carried a lot of dead meat and fish with them. Tourists, like me, on the other hand, were always clean, headed to civilised places and had money. Yes, he told me he had been tricked on many occasions that the locals had not had enough money or had relied on friends or relatives at the destination to pay, who either had not had money either, had not been at home or had never existed at all.
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