Today’s guest post is by Lisa Pitzer, an Account Manager at Covington Travel, specializing in corporate travel service management. Lisa has worked in the travel industry for 18 years and has traveled worldwide. 

I am a planner. I like to study a destination before I go, get suggestions from other travelers, and surf the web like a fiend. I travel armed with guidebooks, maps, and a manila folder of confirmations. That’s why I was so surprised that my recent trip to St. Martin reformed me, taught me how to leave the lists behind, and really travel.

As soon as my husband and I stepped off the plane and felt the balmy air, we shed our winter sweaters. Our rental car was waiting for us in the airport parking lot, and in no time we were off to find our villa. In true Type-A fashion, I had created an online map of St. Martin, carefully marking each restaurant, market, beach, and point of interest we wanted to see. I had detailed directions to the villa, but quickly found out that there are virtually no street signs. I threw my map into the backseat, we rolled down the windows, drove in the direction that felt right, and eventually found our villa.

 

We stayed at Villa Harmony, in the Lowlands/Terres Basses area on the French side of the island. Our two bedroom villa had an open living room, large tiled kitchen, and a huge patio and private pool overlooking the Caribbean Sea. We were instantly in love, and as soon as the caretaker left, we jumped into the pool, and that’s where we stayed for the rest of the day. The caretaker had stocked our fridge with bread, butter, eggs, beer, wine, and bottled water, so we had omelets for dinner on the patio, and watched the sunset.

The roosters woke us early the next morning, and we decided to venture out. With map in hand, we began the circuitous route around the island. After exploring Marigot and having lunch at Serafina’s, we were pretty hot and sweaty, so a dip in the ocean was required. Again, the map wasn’t much help, but after a few wrong turns, and a drive down a road that doesn’t deserve to be called a road, we arrived at a pretty little beach, Friar’s Bay. There are three beach bars here and lots of powdery sand. After a quick swim, we were refreshed and back on the road. As we made our way around the island, we passed the village of Grand Case and decided to explore it another day. We saw incredible views at Dawn Beach and got into a traffic jam in Phillipsburg. We were really getting hot and tired and longed for the pool at the villa. We decided to pick up some groceries, head home and finish exploring another day.

 

For the next two days, other than the two-minute drive down to Plum Bay, our favorite beach, we did not leave the villa. It was so relaxing to float in the pool and gaze out at the sea, thinking and doing nothing. This is not something either of us normally do, but we did it well. I was actually feeling guilty about not doing some of the things on my list. We had planned to go to the open-air markets, go zip-lining at Loterie Farm, explore all the beaches, and eat in fancy restaurants. Instead we read, sang along with the satellite radio, drank wine, and napped.

 

When we finally decided to join civilization again, we made the 20 minute drive to Grand Case. This charming little village quickly won our hearts. We ate at the famous Lolo’s, St. Martin’s answer to street-food, on the waterfront. Dollar beers, grilled ribs and shrimp, and an incredible sunset made for one of our favorite St Martin experiences. We strolled down the narrow streets, reading the menus of the numerous restaurants. We had dessert at a crepe cart, where we chatted with a lovely French couple while they made our fresh crepes.

The next day, we headed down to Baie Rouge, a long beach on the French side. After a lunch of sandwiches on fabulous baguettes, and several pina coladas, we rented two beach lounges and an umbrella for the day. The surf was big enough to be fun, but not dangerous, and we spent most of the afternoon in the ocean. We walked the length of the beach and tried to peek over the walls at some unbelievably swanky houses. We decided we’d play the lottery when we got home, and this is exactly what we’d do with the winnings.

For dinner, we decided to try a little Swiss restaurant we had passed several times in Sandy Ground, LeChalet. It was a tiny little building, the front open to the street, and decorated with pictures of snowy mountains, old wooden skis and snowshoes. We ordered Raclette, which can only be described as cheese heaven. A large half wheel of cheese is placed on a special holder and is heated from a burner that is placed above it. The top layer of cheese melts and is scraped onto your plate with a special knife. It is served with hot baked potatoes, sliced meats, mushrooms, onions, and pickles. The owner was wonderful and very patiently explained the process to us. She showed us photos of the family in the Swiss Alps that makes the special wheels of cheese for them and is very proud of her Swiss roots and beautiful home country. For dessert, the owner insisted we try their special homemade ice cream and then an elderberry schnapps to cap it all off. It was an unexpected and unusual treat to enjoy a traditional Swiss dinner while in the Caribbean.

 

Our last night, we spent the evening in Grand Case. Dinner at Calmos Cafe was unforgettable. They have several low picnic tables in the sand on the beach, with comfy pillows and colorful lanterns scattered around. We settled in with some cocktails, ordered dinner, and watched the sun go down. The French music was low-key, and the food was delicious. Our entertainment was watching people buzz around in their dinghies, coming in from their sailboats for dinner in the village. Again, we made a note to play the lottery so we could have a sailboat to go with our mansion.

On the plane ride home, I looked through my maps, guidebooks, and lists. I had no regrets that we did almost nothing on my original list. We learned how to slow down, go on a whim, and drive with no destination. Isn’t that what a luxury vacation should be? And there’s always next time.