St. Martin is known as the Friendly Island, but I think it should be called the Butterfly Island –Ile des Papillons. Little, white butterflies are everywhere.
They were fluttering about Tuesday at Fort Louis as we reveled in the great views of the harbor.
Les papillons could be seen amidst the foliage as we made our way up Pic Paradis, the highest point on the island.
John made like a butterfly yesterday afternoon, flitting across the water on his first kite surfing adventure.
After a quick lesson, he was off — skimming across Nettle Bay like super-sized fish bait. Kim, Dan and I watched from the shore, slowly cooking despite gobs of 50 SPF sunscreen. The Caribbean sun is a real scorcher, but the butterflies don’t seem to mind the UVs at all.
With John back on shore, we headed out for an early dinner and happened upon a fantastic restaurant, Le Pressoir, named after an old salt press located across the narrow street in front of the place. (The Dutch initiated salt mining on the island in 1631. At one time, salt was as dear to the world as gold or diamonds.)
The food at Le Pressoir was incredible, particularly the cold cauliflower soup with shrimp which I enjoyed as an appetizer…
followed by roasted scallops in a scrumptious truffle sauce.
I topped the delectable meal off with my favorite French addiction — macarons.
Driving back to our villa in the dark, I wondered what butterflies do at night. Do they actually sleep? Or do they simply lounge in the foliage until the sun beckons them to come out and play?