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Whole Lot a Bakin' Goin' On

Club O, where nothing is better.

sunny 88 °F

Sunday morning. It's hot. Really hot. And still. The usually reliable trade winds are taking the weekend off and the sky is hazy with Saharan dust. Dark clouds scurry through, making a day on the beach seem less certain than the night before. Even worse, we have not slept well. We have spent the night being terrorized by a creature that emits a high-pitched cry that resembles a squeaky hinge. Every 10 seconds he (she? it?) calls out, jarring us out of whatever state of sleep we've reached. Periodically, it torments us by going silent for a few minutes and just as we believe that it's decided to shut up or move on, it begins again. By 3:00 AM it has either gotten laid or established it's territorial ascendancy and goes to sleep or just shuts up. We are told it is a cocqui frog. We call it the Hellfrog. Much too tiny to find and forcibly relocate, we learn to adapt to it and by the end of the week, we barely notice it.

We head to Orient and zero in on Club O. There we find fellow TTOLers Gary & Berne, Al & Bonnie, and David & Pauline. Though we've never met them, we have traded emails in the run up to our trip and it's a treat to finally meet. We stake out our chairs and bake. The breeze is still a no-show and the heat caroms off the sand and water and settles on our skin, blanketing us. Fortunately, frequent dips and Caribs keep us acceptably comfortable. The eight of us trade stories and tips about the island and have one of the best times I've ever had on a beach.

By the end of the day we are glowing, pink in some places, pinker in others, especially those areas that rarely see the light of day in public. Back at our room we wash off the salt, sweat and sand. We drive to Grand Case to Talk of the Town, Too, a lolo we've eaten at before. The breeze is still AWOL and TOTT is crowded and slow. By the end of dinner we're once again hot and sweaty and ready for bed. I lie in bed, feeling the heat rise from my body to do battle with the air conditioning and wait for sleep to come.

The Hellfrog, safe in a palm tree, smiles to himself and takes a deep breath...

Posted by Sea'n'Sun 04:57 Archived in Saint Martin

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