Earlier this year, my boyfriend and I visited London for the first time. It was a magical trip - it was his first trip to Europe and our first major international trip together, and we discovered that we travel well with each other. Upon arriving home stateside, however, my wanderlust was rekindled in a really strong way. Due to budget and circumstance (my best friend’s wedding, a new job, a major move), I hadn’t been able to visit Anguilla, my favorite spot on earth, in nearly three years, but a quick check of my frequent flyer account confirmed that I had enough miles to get me to St. Maarten. A quick conferral with my boyfriend determined that whereas I had sufficient paid time off for a week long getaway, he (alas) did not, so I booked a solo return trip to Anguilla.
Which means that from May until November, I had the fun of planning and anticipating my entire trip. The most fun of which was determining where to stay - do I return to my beloved Barnes Bay and rent one of my usual places there or try someplace new? Despite getting a free flight, I still needed to be budget conscious, but because it was a solo trip, I also wanted to feel secure and not stay in a remote location. I considered the apartment at Roy’s and the ever-popular Ferryboat Inn, but in the end I chose Turtles Nest on Meads Bay. Since Meads Bay was home for my first ever trip to the island, it felt like I was coming full circle to stay there for my first solo vacation there.
I was glad to get off the boat for multiple reasons, but not least of which was the preponderance of ugly Americans sharing the ride. Badly behaved and giving the rest of us a bad name, there was one couple and a family of four on my boat who were the very picture of entitlement. They outright refused to tip the luggage guy even after he came up to them asking for one (and he handled a LOT of bags for them) and they sat and groused loudly about the boat not leaving on time (we left a few minutes late) and how they weren’t paying good money to sit around waiting.
|View from Calypso en route|
|Panoramic shot of my studio unit|
|My tiny west-facing balcony|
As you can see, the beaches are hideously crowded. That gorgeous water was calling to me so I took a quick dip before heading back up to the room. I’d originally been planning to have a casual beach dinner at Blanchards Beach Shack, a 7-minute walk up the beach from Turtles Nest, but apparently they were closed for the phenomenal private wedding taking place at Four Seasons. Instead I ran up to Best Buy for some cheese & crackers to nosh on with the complimentary bottle of wine that Turtles Nest left for me in the room, along with some breakfast essentials for the upcoming week.
The sunset was beautiful and the perfect backdrop to my first meal on the island, and since I had been awake for roughly one billion hours and the wine was having its wicked, wicked way with me, I decided to make an early night of it. The air conditioner chilled the room to perfection and I fell asleep reading with the distant sound of the waves in the background. Home at last.