House Bertrand

I’ve never gotten around to posting pictures of our house, mainly because for a while there we were planning on moving out of it. That never happened – a combination of us resolving the issues with our landlady and me not liking change. So we’ve been in the same place our entire time here.

I feel the need to explain, before I begin, that houses on Statia are not like houses in the US or Canada. So when I say our house is 'nice', I mean relative to the island. We would never live in a home like this in America, but we consider ourselves lucky to have lived here during our time on Statia.



Our propane tank, at a perilous 30-degree tilt away from the house. No one sneeze.

The past few days we’ve been welcomed home by this ample smattering of blood across the entry archway:


And up above:


And on the tile:
We have no idea what died or how, but it makes me feel better to think it was a very large lizard that got killed by a cat, and not a human that was bludgeoned to death on our porch.


Here’s the porch, washing machine, and laundry line. We have a real line out back, but it’s been overtaken by trees and spiders. Plus, our washing machine is so tiny that one full load easily fits on our makeshift line, so we don’t really have need for more space (as long as I keep on top of the laundry).

Looking the other way on our porch, the front door.

Kitchen and front door, from the bedroom. Tiny fridge, tiny stove.

Table and bedroom door, from the kitchen.

Living room and the French doors we never open because they’re not screened.

Our bedroom. This is as made as the bed ever gets. The swimsuits and bras hanging off the doorknob are typical.

Our closet and makeshift hamper

The hallway to the spare bedroom and bathroom. Our house has a really weird layout and you have to walk through one bedroom to get to those other things. Wouldn’t you just love to see them? Too bad. Both the bathroom and the spare room are absolutely awful. We close the door on them and try to pretend they don’t exist except for when it’s absolutely necessary that we enter.


And that's our home. It holds our stuff and keeps most of the rain out. The end.

PS - Our landlady writes "House Bertrand" on the memo line of our rent receipts, so apparently that's the house's name. A first for me for sure, living in a named house.