The Derelict Faire

The most important thing to remember about St Croix is that more than any other island I've been, it’s a different world. Many guests complained about the island. “there wasn’t enough to do.” “Not enough shops.” These are all the "common type" thoughts. They are what separate the few and the masses. St. Croix is unique. It has a palpable feeling, a culture different from any other place, and for that I love it to pieces…to death…to eternity.

It’s the largest of the U.S. Virgin Islands, and so it goes, there are more stories to tell in its hidden corners, the annals, which I believe has far more than meets the eye. I’ve always known of St. Croix under odd circumstances. There was a small pond in my back yard that I put in while I was in middle school. I love the water, you see, and it took a lot of convincing to finally let my parents give in to putting in a pond. We still had it to this day and it was beautiful. It was only a hundred gallons shell, but the style of the pond, prefabricated, was called St. Croix, and so I always associated our little pond with that island. I love geography, and have always studied maps of the Caribbean, but that’s a different story. Regardless, I was really looking forward to finally coming to terms with the reality of St. Croix. Luckily, we had a long day in port there, so Madeline and I planned to have quite the day.

Getting off the ship took a little bit of extra time. I’m always forgetting things and so is Madeline, and we just had to go back a few times. We got off the ship with some friends so we decided to take some pictures on the dock. They’re pretty standard. Getting closer to land, we came upon some very frightening creatures. They were decorated men on stilts called “hooters” and they are the things of nightmares. It was the perfect way to start an adventure on a new world.

Moving forward we discovered an abandoned carnival. The wind was strong, brightening the colors of the place, highlighting the eerie emptiness of the whole mess. There were no Diamonds International, or Emeralds Express, or Tanzanite Outlets. There was only old town. There were only settled folk. There was only real life, different from the fantasy world of vacations. It was the most refreshing feeling.

We were lucky to find an island taxi that could take us to the opposite end for only 2.50. Most taxis charged $9 one way, so it was kind of a daunting deal. Were we tricking him or was he tricking us? Either way, after a 20 minute ride, we arrived in Christannsen. Taxis, I think, are one of the best ways to really feel out a land. The driver is always unique, and you zip by so quickly, its hard to process. Its like flipping through a a moving picture book. So many images that become one impression. Fantastic, but fleeting.

Christannsen had a nice old feel to it. It was fresh, clean, and old. Lots of abandoned buildings and forts. Like a giant derelict play land, a faire, so to speak. Most people turn their heads to these things, I think, but some of us find adventure in them. Madeline and I are lucky enough to have each other to enjoy similar ideals. There was an old, yellow fort on the harbor. You were supposed to buy tickets somewhere, but it really wasn’t arranged very well. We just walked in to what seemed to be an empty, staffless, building. It was well kept, but still haunting, looking out towards the sea in such a way. What I love most about these islands is all the boats you get to see. They’re everywhere, and each one, I’m sure, has it sown unique story to tell. Where its been and where its going. There are tons of smaller islands too with little houses and hotels on them, independent from the entire world. Each one a distinct life of its own. There really is so much out there. One world…one ocean…one continent…one archipelago…one island…one house…one soul, adrift at sea…and who are we? Who am I? What story do I have that’s greater than the one that came before me?

After the fort, we tried to find a nice beach to relax on. It turned into quite the hike. We walked down the street, and came upon a house being reclaimed by the jungle. Theres something all too exciting about excavating the ruins of old houses isn’t there? You start thinking of strange lives being lived…through these old, unfamiliar rooms. What ghosts still linger, and what is it they need before they disappear into the ether forever? My camera ran out of batteries there, but I did get some nice shots. The jungle had all but taken over the ruins. Moving on we came to an old gas station that had been converted to a restaurant. We found many more places like this. They all looked like they started as one thing and then morphed into another, and so on and so on until the buildings themselves become sort of forts in their own right. A central building surrounded by walls of belongings and bric-a-brac. Chickens and dogs running around like soldiers brought to alarm...lived in but loved in, each with its own personality. We walked by an ocean front road, where we saw old fishing boats being worked on and conch shells lining the street. The air smelled like the sea and the people looked at us with weary curiosity. Sometimes as a stranger you feel more at home in the land of the lost than anywhere else. Our walk to some sort of restaurant or popular area proved fruitless. It was Three Kings Day after all, and most public stores were closed. A reporter stopped us and asked what we thought of the place. We told her we both loved its charm. We assumed pseudo names so she wouldn’t print our real identities. I was Johannes and she was Adeline. We were either dating or siblings, because in Sweden, it can be hard to tell.

Completing a giant circle, we hiked back to the main square in Christannsen and decided to eat some food there before taking a cab to a neighboring bay for the rest of the afternoon. Along the boardwalk we ran into our good friend Jana! She was on a date with a comedian who was training for some sort of event called the joggleathon. Apparently you jog and juggle for like 5km. I don’t get it, but he had almost 0% body fat, which is fine. We stopped to have a lovely meal of fried tuna and buttery French shrimp sandwiches before finding our beach retreat. All the locals told us to simply take the water taxi to the nearby hotel island where you could just lay on the beach there, but that was too easy and close at hand. We decided to go a few bays over to Buccaneer Beach, where maybe things would be from a different perspective.

Adeline and I, Johannes, kept our pseudo names for the remainder of the trip. The Buccaneer Bay Beach was wonderful. We changed into our swimsuits in the nearby bushes like a couple of Bohemians while the other kept look out, and found relaxation in the calm water of St. Croix’s isolated beaches. It was our port of solace, separate from the ship, and our current realities. I think pretending to be someone else only helped our enjoyment of the afternoon. Only with this illusion could we shake the constant stress of making it back at departure time. Always coming and going, never any real time to enjoy. Its a give and take of a life. Besides swimming, ordering a couple drinks, and jumping off the pier, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about the couple hours we spent there, but it was unexpected and unpredictable, which is the key to good luck. I could not have imagined that place, and so it was that much more enjoyable. We decided that Buccaneer was a lame name, so we named the bay after our drinks, Madam Von Strolten’s rum punch. And so our afternoon had taken place at Cape Fjord Von Strolten…one of the most beautiful beaches in all of the West Indies.

On the way home, we joined forces with a family who had been stiffed by their previous taxi driver. It became evident that most of the people who cruise on Disney would not be enjoying St. Croix. Things weren’t jut perfect enough for them…and so come the complaints: “They were giving out free rum samples on the peir! Alchohol!!!” “The island is ugly.” “There’s not enough shopping!” These are the people of America. The backbone of my country. I did my best to chat with the driver to cover the uncomfortable silence in the cab. You could tell he had many stories to tell that Disney would not have been happy to hear. However, things turned sour when he stopped the car suddenly on a hill, and told us we had to wait for his son who would be meeting us here. Adeline needed to get back to the ship, and the family just stared at me dumbfounded, as if what was I, an officer, going to do? I told him we better continue to the ship, but suddenly he exited the vehicle and walked down the road. I followed him and told him we weren’t paying to wait for his son, who is “supposed” to meet him here, which was the middle of nowhere. After about 10 minutes this guy eventually showed up. He was in the U.S. military on leave and had gone to the wrong hill, apparently. He joined us on the rest of the ride and laughed when his father said that he would get us back to the ship in ten minutes. Our driver did not get a tip from anyone…except Johannes..who deep down, can understand the longing a father might have for a son…one day.

Adeline ran on board the ship while I took some time to wander the port. There was another abandoned fort there, this time red instead of yellow. I imagined a level you might find in Silent Hill at the abandoned fort. Theres a locked gate which you must find the key for in order to get access the top level and the cannons. You must shoot the cannon across the yard to find the gong, and then use the gong to ring the signal bell, which was foundered in Chicago, to my surprise. It’s a small world. I wandered to a liquor store hoping to buy some Carib, my favorite beer in the world, but it was too pricey, so I bought a drink made from Sea Moss with peanut. As I walked back to the ship and drank it, many locals pleasantly noted that I was enjoying that drink, telling me its also good with rum, and that I should enjoy it because I will need to make babies tonight. It was alright I guess, and I made plenty babies.

Back on the pier, the sun was setting and I had 30 minutes before I had to open my gallery. There was a local steel drum band playing and I sat to listen to their music for a minute. It was a wonderful sound. When the tune ended, the last song I heard was requested by a woman. If you haven’t heard Amazing Grace on steel drums, you should seek it out if you can remember. Letting the song bring back some memories I headed down the pier to my ship as the music drifted slowly away. As I got on the gangway, the song finally ended, and my wonderful day in St. Croix came to a close.