Statia: the Final Days (part 1)

I don’t even know where to begin. For starters, my names post really took off this year. Look at my traffic over the past few days:


So exciting! We left Statia on Wednesday for three days of travel and I was without internet access for the entire duration. It was driving me absolutely crazy not knowing what was happening on my blog.

But I’m getting ahead of myself! My final week on Statia was jam-packed with stuff, what with a day-trip to St Maarten, in-laws in town, Jon’s graduation and birthday, going away parties, and trying to fit in as much snorkel/beach time before packing up and leaving our little island forever. If you sense upcoming photo overload, you are correct!

My parent’s cruise ship pulling in to port. I flew over, rented a car, and drove across St Maarten to pick them up all by my onesie. Then somehow I was appointed chauffer despite the fact that I hadn’t driven in two years, let alone on tiny, windy, foreign, conjested streets. Sort of terrifying, but no one died. Oh! On my flight over there, I saw a WHALE from my airplane window!! So, so, so, so, so, so, so cool.

They cruised with their friends Rodger and Nicole. This was my first time meeting Nicole, but Rodger is pretty much family. He and my dad are bffs to the point that my grandma calls Rodger my dad’s boyfriend which, obviously, never ceases to be funny. Especially when neither of them objects. (sidenote – I was explaining to Rodger that by law I couldn’t work on Statia and therefore was bored most of the time, and he replied, “Then no wonder your blog is so Bloggity Blog.” Biggest shock of my life! Rodger reads, or at least once looked at, my blog!)

We headed to Orient Beach for a day in the sun and surf. Aside from getting turned around a few times on my way back to the airport, it was a perfect day. (That’s not excluding the many 80-year-old men on the beach in thongs, and I don’t mean flip flops.)

In the top five best pizzas of my entire life.

When I left St Maarten, it was in-law time!

Walking up the Slave Path with my nose in the historical walking tour guide book like a super-nerd. Speaking of both of those things! The guide book explains that the “Bay Path, sometimes mistakenly referred to as the Slave Path…blah blah blah”. But the ENGRAVED SIGN at the bottom says “Slave Path”! That could have SOMETHING to do with why people call it that! This is an outrage.

Three killy-killy kestrels on the Catholic church.

Jon and his dad at Fort Oranje.

There’s a story behind this picture. One day Lianna and I were walking to the beach along this path when suddenly THE WALL CRUMBLED BENEATH MY FEET. My massive bulk ruined a several-hundred-year-old walkway. It was an avalanche of sorts that resulted in my left leg being nearly crushed by several stones. For MONTHS afterward Pearl would bring up my injury – “Rocks fell on Jessie’s leg, but she’s okay.” I still have a scar. Anyway, so that’s a picture of the damage I caused. My lasting mark on Statia.

Speaking of lasting marks on Statia...

Double awesome. I'm thinking about selling it on eBay.

And, oh gosh. I can clearly see this is not all going to fit into one post. To be continued...