by Niambi Brown Davis

We were booked for a week in St. Thomas, and like any good traveler in the age of the internet, I did my homework, searching through travel message boards and destination review sites for what to do, see, and where to shop on the island. You can not read about one United States Virgin Island without some mention of the others. Post after post raved about St. John’s pristine, idyllic beauty, kept that way since 1956 by Laurence Rockefeller’s purchase and donation of 5000 acres of its land to the National Park Service.

From our balcony at St. Thomas’ Wyndham Sugar Bay, we could see St. John’s light cascading down from its hillside homes. Since it was so close, why not take the 20 minute ferry ride from Red Hook to Cruz Bay? Although I had enjoyed a couple days of high octane activity in downtown Charlotte Amalie, I looked forward to what I thought would be a pleasant day-long tour of the smaller island, learning the names of tropical flora, fauna and little else. I wondered if two-thirds of the island was National Park land, could the remaining one-third be a tourist destination manicured within an inch of its natural life to satisfy a postcard depiction of paradise? As soon as the ferry docked, I realized just how wrong I had been. Instead of a Park Ranger, we were met by a Tropic Tours guide who introduced us to Cruz Bay and the island of St. John. She was a lively, gracious host who wore her most beautiful, but comfortable dress to welcome us.

The man who was our tour guide in its entirety was witty and knowledgeable, and kept us amused and informed as we barreled (and I mean it) over roads that wound through the hills like ribbons around a maypole. Once he stopped by the side of a winding road that ran through a tropical forest, hopped out and announced his need for a quick stop. He may in fact have used nature’s facilities, but he returned with handfuls of bay leaves. St. John is reputed to have the finest bay trees in the world, and the oil from their leaves is the basis for the famed St. John Bay Rum.

None of the pictures I’d seen, even the most professional guide book photos, could compare with an up-close view of the jewel-toned island. More than once our driver pulled onto the shoulder or into an overlook where we stared down in amazement on hills that seemed to be carpeted in green velvet and water clear and blue as Bombay sapphire. The oohs and ahhs were endless - each time we thought we’d seen the most beautiful spot on the island, the next was even better. When I returned home and shared my own amateur shots, I gave up trying to prove that the vibrant colors of the landscape hadn’t been doctored by digital magic. Even the upscale Caneel Bay and Westin Resorts take their casually elegant cues from nature.

During Danish rule, twenty-five sugar plantations produced rum and sugar from slave labor. The National Park Service has restored the ruins of the Annaberg (Anna’s Hill) Sugar Plantation, and offers depictions of life after emancipation, with scheduled demonstrations of basket weaving, bread-making and gardening. We trudged up Anna’s Hill for an up-close look at what slaves endured for their masters to live the high life in paradise.

The Park Service also maintains Trunk Bay, one of the most beautiful, photographed and visited beaches on the island, While I took up a seat on the powdered sugar sand with a book, my daughter joined a family of fellow travelers to snorkel the Trunk Bay Underwater Trail, guided by submerged markers that provide a lesson on its marine and coral life.

One of the high points of the visit was lunch at Shipwreck Landing, a casual, open air bar and restaurant tucked into a bend of the road just across from an azure blue bay. Over good conversation and rum punch (for those of us who were legal) we dined on conch fritters, pasta, mahi-mahi and burgers.

They may have been lurking somewhere in a corner in the dark, but I found no cheap t-shirts, fake dreadlocks or coconut trinkets made in Taiwan. Instead, local, low-key and upscale best describes the St. John’s shopping experience. A classic West Indian rum shop sits near a bright painted house full of casual island clothing, one of a wide variety of unique boutiques, galleries and specialty shops than can be found all over the island. At Coral Bay we purchased screen printed t-shirts, handmade body products, painted scarves and decorative burlap tote bags from Tall Ships Trading and the Jolly Dog.

Once was not enough and two days later, my daughter and I took another trip back to Cruz Bay. I sat on the upper deck next to a man who could have been the twin of the steel band man adorning my DC Pan Jammer’s t-shirt. At Cruz Bay, the first stop was Our Market, an elaborate fruit and flower-decorated stand serving up thick, fruit-filled smoothies and delicious shakes. We found the Pink Papaya, a colorful Caribbean-style house filled with rooms of home decor, jewelry, art and tableware created by a local artist. There were narrow shops with beautiful antique wooden cabinets holding one-of-a kind silver, silk scarves, and reproductions of antique maps. Finally, we made our way to the courtyards of Mongoose Junction, a West Indian stone building of exceptional shops rising at least three stories into the air. At the very top, the Body Deli is set up delicatessen style, serving up its pricey scrubs, creams and soaps in carry-out containers. In the Fabric Mill, I browsed through rooms of home accents and accessories, unable to resist a few yards of tropical-themed fabric. Upstairs, resort chic clothing shares the courtyard with an open-air café and a gallery showcasing the work of local fine artists.

The Caravan Gallery’s global groupings of art, masks, jewelry and collectibles come from Africa, Asia and Europe and places in between. The height of my Mongoose Junction shopping experience was Bamboula which featured a beautiful collection of clothing, furniture, baskets, textiles and jewelry from around the world, displayed in rooms highlighted by polished wood and lots of light. At the end of the day, along with workers, residents and other tourists, we lined up to purchase our tickets and board the ferry back to Red Hook.

St. John has been added to my list of saintly seaside havens like Georgia’s St. Simons Island and Maryland’s St. Michaels - places deserving this claim with no hesitation: I could live there forever.

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