“The American Caribbean”
3/31/17, “Transfer Day”
John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York (JFK)
100 years ago today, the Virgin Islands were transferred
from Danish control to American control.
It is celebrated in the United States Virgin Islands as their national
holiday, and this hundredth anniversary will be of special significance
there. When I learned about this holiday
a few years ago, I designed my trip to the American Caribbean, as I call it,
around being there for the hundredth anniversary of Transfer Day. When I learned that it would be an
all-weekend-long celebration, which each of the three islands celebrating on a
different night this weekend, I planned my trip around overnighting on each
island for the corresponding nights. It
is a trip that will bring me to every National Park Site and National Historic
Landmark in the USVI, before connecting in Puerto Rico on the way home to
revisit the World Heritage Site there.
At four days with two days off from work, it clocks in as a longer trip
for me, but the mission will be well worth the time spent on it.
Okay, so, since I am flying out in the
morning and will do activities this afternoon, it is now Day 1, but I might as
well recall Night 0 to round out this entry.
After a long day at the office, I went to my Thursday movie, eating way
too much at the theatre. I saw “The
Zookeeper’s Wife,” which failed to me in its inauthenticity and its inability
to properly carry the seriousness of the subject matter. I then went home and packed.
I slept poorly throughout the night, only get
two full REM cycles, interrupted by a GI issue that woke me up and prevented me
from getting back to sleep for well over an hour. My car was waiting downstairs for me, and I
changed into my suit and got ready. I
had budgeted an hour and a half with traffic, counting on that time to get
another REM cycle, but it was actually only half an hour. It worked out for the best, though, as
everything at the airport was slow. I
think it took me longer to go through security than the drive to the airport
from my apartment.
I had forgotten two
things. I had neglected to bring my
chopsticks for my first Official meal in the USVI, and I had almost no cash on
me. The overpriced ATM in the airport
solved the second problem, but I couldn’t imagine where I’d find chopsticks in
the USVI. I then went to get breakfast,
which was a sandwich place that had a long line that moved slowly. I got a pressed bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich
on a sesame bagel, which was delicious.
I sat down to eat it next to an Asian family, who were eating their meal
with, you guessed it, chopsticks. There
was a Hong Kong place in the food court, where I procured a pair of
chopsticks.
It was now 7:30 AM, and
boarding was at 7:55 AM, so I didn’t think I would have enough time to write my
entry. To make matters worse, I had to
take a shuttle to the C Gates. I got to
my gate at about 7:45 AM, where I sat down and proceeded to write this entry,
quickly, which I will now close, as we boarding is starting.
Charlotte Amelie, Saint Thomas, United States Virgin
Islands
As the sun sets over the Virgin Islands, I am left to
recount a very familiar tale, a tale I have recounted numerous times with
datelines such as St. George’s, Grenada and Basseterre, Saint Kitts and
Nevis. In fact, the tale is so familiar,
that, more than once today, I checked my pocket for my passport, only to
remember why it wasn’t there. While the
experience of spending an afternoon walking around a Caribbean capital alone is
familiar, doing so in one that is a US Territory is not. No Cubans would be found on this island,
legally at least, but I would not have to pass through border control,
either. It is no different than going to
Boston or Miami.
As the establishing
shot shows, the Danish red remains in the architecture of this island, even 100
years later. That was brought me here
today. These celebrations were, in a word, epic. It was the most fascinating experience of the
year, second only Inauguration, if I discount New Year’s Eve in Sydney. They did it up right. The celebration was one for the ages, and
it’s not even dinner time yet. I was
thrilled to be here for the celebrations, and I have the utmost confidence that
this trip will rank high on the lists when I do the final reckoning.
After I closed this morning, we soon boarded,
and I fell asleep even before we took off, sleeping through the whole
flight. I was treated to the familiar
site of landing at a Caribbean airport.
Leaving the airport without going through border control was
unfamiliar. I took a taxi to the hotel,
which to me nuisance, was a shared taxi, but we were at my hotel soon
enough. I realized that data would be an
issue, but I had the trip well-planned, so I wasn’t concerned. I could use Wi-Fi for my posts. My room wasn’t quite ready, but it would be
ready by the time I finished lunch, and the restaurant on-site was one of the
best places on the island for local cuisine.
In fact, I think I will be having dinner there, too. They offered me a room to change out of my
suit, so I changed into some casual clothes.
When I was done changing, they let me put my luggage in my room, but it
wasn’t fully cleaned yet, so I went to get lunch. It was the perfect place for a familiar
meal. The cuisine was not much different
from the rest of the English-speaking West Indies. I got stewed chicken with rice and plantains,
along with seltzer and local rum, eaten, of course, with chopsticks. The meal was good, and I was able to go into
my room afterwards. I resituated myself,
and I was ready for my afternoon. On the
docket was the three National Historic Landmarks on the island, the legislative
assembly building, and the centennial celebrations.
I headed out and lit up a Partagas, my first
cigar in the USVI. My first stop was
Blackbeard’s Castle (yes, that Blackbeard), which was a bit of a trek. Not far, but it was up a steep hill. When I got there, I discovered to my dismay,
that it was closed today and tomorrow. I
circled around back and found a good spot for a photo. I headed back down the hill, and I could hear
the celebrations had already started. As
I was walking, I saw a procession of Official vehicles and armored guards. Surely this was for the centennial, for some
dignitary.
I walked next to the St.
Thomas Synagogue, which is the oldest congregation in the United States, the
second oldest in the Americas, after one in Curacao. On the way, a shopkeeper asked me to look at
their humidor after I finished my cigar, I and promised that I would. Soon enough, I was at the synagogue. I saw the Plaque, and I was thrilled. I took my ceremonial pictures, and then I
learned I could actually go inside. I
went inside and took some pictures. I
was shocked that the floor was covered in sand, by design. A guide gave me a brief history of the
synagogue and sold me a keepah, which I bought more to give the donation than
because I actually wanted it. She
invited me for services, and I am on the fence about going. It might be too late by the time I’m ready,
though.
From there, it was down to the
waterfront, where Fort Christian and the legislature were across the street
from another. That’s when I saw it. The parade.
It was in full swing. I was
thrilled. This was what I came for. Literally.
I took some pictures and said to myself, “I love it when a plan comes
together.”
I continued to Fort
Christian, where I found the Plaque and took my ceremonial picture. That was it.
That was all three of them. The
souvenir stands were right there, too.
Only one thing remained.
I
ditched my cigar and headed back to the legislature to take my ceremonial
picture. “Saint Thomas Complete.” I sat a bit and watched the celebrations and
speeches, including one by, I think, the Governor.
The crowd soon dissipated, and I then got my
souvenirs, including the one I wanted most, a flag pin. It seemed to be the only flag pin for sale on
the whole island. She was the only one who
had it, and it was her last one.
I
walked back to my hotel, stopping at the cigar place along the way. She offered me a beer as an apology for not
letting me in earlier, and I gladly accepted.
The humidor had a sparse selection and no grand bargains, but I picked
out two at a reasonable price to round out the assortment I had brought with
me. From there, it was back to my hotel,
and I almost immediately took a nap.
I
woke up after an hour, lit up an Aroma de Cuba, and headed back down to the
legislature, where more dignitarties were speaking, including, what I found the
most exciting moment, the Danish Prime Minister. I wondered if I had ever before been that
close to a sitting Head of Government.
Trump or Obama driving past me in a motorcade don’t count. The Congressional Delegate from USVI talked
about colonialism, and the Danish Prime Minister apologized for the slavery
that occurred during Danish rule.
Whether or not to give the Virgin Islands (and the other territories)
Congressional Representation beyond their non-voting delegate is an interesting
question. The Republican in me does not
want to see a guaranteed additional 2 Democratic Senators and 3 Democratic
Electoral Votes. However, the
libertarian in me does not believe it just to deny the citizens of these
islands their right to representation in our federal government. Perhaps a solution could entail splitting
Texas into five states, as is discussed from time to time. On the other hand, it seems the majority of
the population seems to favor the status quo, perhaps due to some financial
benefit. After the speeches, I walked
back to the hotel and went outside, where I sat down, lit up my trusty Ardor,
and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as it is time for
dinner, and watched as twilight gave way to night.
I actually meant to publish this before dinner, but I
forgot. Since it’s still open, I will
take this opportunity to recount the dinner experience before I publish. My problem with visiting the Caribbean, by which
I mean the English-speaking Antilles, is that I never want to go home. No other place in the world, with the
exception of The North, makes me feel that way.
It is not because I have any great love of the beach. It because of what Jamaica Kincaid says that
we Westerners love about these islands, that they’re “quaint.” That was what I felt the first time I visited
the English-speaking Antilles in Dominica, the same that I felt when I visited
Antigua myself. It is what I feel every
time I visit the Caribbean, and it is what I am feeling right now. I love the quaintness of these capital
cities, and I have spent the night in more than I care to count.
In fact, I think it is safe to say that I
have spent the night in more Caribbean capitals than 99.999% of the American
population. Yes, I am standing by that
math. I do not believe that there more
than 3000 Americans who have overnighted in as many Caribbean capitals as I
have. Visited on cruises, sure, but flew
into and spent the night, no.
I love it
here. I love the atmosphere. I love the pretty architecture. I love the feel of the island. I love walking around seeing the sites. I love eating the local cuisine, drinking the
local beer, and smoking my cigars and pipes from my hotel balcony. I love the mountainous views or else the sea
views. It is always one or the other
depending on the room, sometimes both.
Whether it is Basseterre or Bridgetown, the feel is always the same, but
different.
This trip will represent the
last nights I spend in the Antilles for the foreseeable future. In September, I will visit the Pacific
Islands, but I do not know if it will be more the same or more different. Either way, I am looking forward to it.
Okay, dinner. After I closed earlier, I walked over to dinner. Other than abysmally slow service, the meal
was great. I had a splitting headache,
not having had any caffeine since that cup of coffee with breakfast. I got a Turkish coffee to start, but it
somehow took over fifteen minutes to come.
For dinner, I ordered tamarind shrimp as my appetizer and the local
specialty kingfish with fungee for my main course, both of which were
excellent, along with a local beer.
I
then got rum cake with ice cream, along with the same rum from earlier, as
dessert. I brought the rum back to my
room and lit up a Nat Sherman, figuring this was how Nat himself would have
enjoyed the Caribbean. I then sat down
outside, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that
I can publish.
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