Long story short, I was invited to attend a wedding in St. Lucia. New Year’s Eve fell on the weekend before the wedding. Every year, I make it a habit to travel for the holiday. This year, I wanted to ring in the New Year in Chamonix Mont Blanc, France. After weeks of researching both trips, I found it cheaper and more time efficient to fly directly to St. Lucia from Europe instead of returning home to Chicago between the two trips. Apparently, St. Lucia and the surrounding islands are popular vacation destinations for Europeans. Thomas Cook Airlines offered a non-stop flight operated by Condor from Frankfurt Airport in Germany to St. Lucia’s Hewanorra International Airport for less than €400 EUR.

It was Tuesday, January 3, 2017. Every bone and muscle in my body ached; I had lost my voice, was unexplainably bruised, and could barely lift my backpack off the ground. New Year’s Eve weekend took a toll on my body. I was running on E. [see post: NYE in Chamonix]

From Chamonix, I took an airport shuttle bus to Geneva Airport in Switzerland in the middle of the night. Upon arrival, I learned that my early morning flight to Frankfurt was canceled. Panicking that I would miss my next flight to St. Lucia, I started to regain consciousness. Since there were no other direct flights to Frankfurt that morning, my only chance of making it in time was connecting through Zurich. By some miracle, my flights to Zurich and Frankfurt were both on time. Barely able to carry my backpack, I found the energy to run across Frankfurt Airport. Approaching the gate, I noticed the flight was delayed. At this point, all I wanted to do was board the airplane and sleep. I was presented with an upgrade offer: about €80 EUR for Premium Economy Class. Without hesitation, I handed over my credit card. I wobbled my way to my seat, passed out, and woke up about nine hours later in Vieux Fort, St. Lucia.

Since I was not attending the wedding that I initially booked the trip for, I wanted to get away as far as possible – which meant staying in Gros Islet, located on the northern tip of the island. By road, the distance between the airport and Gros Islet is only about 68 kilometers (or about 42 miles). However, the route involves driving through mountainous volcanic terrain, bringing the commute anywhere up to two hours. I was willing to pay for the helicopter transfer, but could not fit my snowboard bag (what a hassle carrying that thing around from the mountains to the islands). Private transportation in St. Lucia is ridiculously expensive. And, hotels will take advantage of you when arranging transportation on your behalf. Prior to my departure, I arranged all transportation through St. Lucia Airport Shuttle. They offered the best price in terms of transportation around the island and provided outstanding customer service.

Before even meeting the driver, Guests Relations at St. Lucia Airport Shuttle reached out via email to welcome me to the island and to ensure that I had arrived without any problems. The driver was waiting for me at the exit. We loaded the car with my snowboard bag and were on our way. By this time, it was pitch black outside, so I was not able to gaze out the window and enjoy the views. Still exhausted, and not able to speak, I closed my eyes and drifted in and out of sleep. Note to self: zip up your jacket next time you decide to go paragliding in the dead of winter.

I strategically chose to stay in Gros Islet. There were two activities that I wanted to do while in St. Lucia: learn to kitesurf and visit the island country of Martinique. Unlike in the southern part of the island, the wind up North is consistent and less vicious, making the area an ideal kitesurfing location. Additionally, the ferries to Martinique depart from this region. And of course, staying here ensured that I would not run into anybody that I did not want to see.

I booked two nights at the Bay Gardens Hotel. The hotel, as advertised by Orbitz, is a bit deceiving. I paid extra to stay here (as opposed to just booking a random cheap hotel in town), because it looked like the hotel was situated on the beach. It is not. The hotel’s sister property is the one photographed and advertised on Orbitz. The free shuttle bus from one hotel to the other comes every hour. If you show up even five minutes early, it leaves without you.

It was late at night by the time that I checked in to the hotel. Of course, it happened to be karaoke night directly in front of my room. Exhausted, I did not even bother unpacking. I fell into bed, hoping to wake up good as new and ready for my kitesurfing school that started in the morning.

I have always wanted to try kitesurfing. I had originally planned to do a training camp in Dakhla, Western Sahara later this year. On this side of the world, St. Lucia is one of the best kitesurfing destinations. Given the change in my plans, I had plenty of time on my schedule to fill with lessons. I arranged private lessons for that morning with Beth at Kitesurfing St. Lucia.

Two-hour lessons cost $120 USD and include all of the necessary equipment and a jet ski assist. Cas en Bas Beach is located just ten minutes away by car from the Bay Gardens Hotel. Although close, that taxi ride costs $20 USD. Ridiculous.

Day one of kitesurfing school and I was already in love with the sport. Maneuvering the kite was much more difficult than I had assumed. But, I always love a good challenge. Lessons started on the beach.

I was given a smaller kite and taught the basics of guiding it through the air. Once I was comfortable flying it around, we moved to the ocean. Getting the kite out of the water was a lot more challenging than on land. Once I figured out how to get it up by myself, I was ready to body drag. Beth was a beast. Pushing 60, this woman steered a jet ski while guiding the kite through the sky and pulling me up by my harness from the side. How embarrassing. I need some work. But, what a rush. I definitely will be joining the kitesurfing camp in Dakhla this year.

I had no plans for the remainder of the day. I figured that I would hop on the shuttle to the Bay Gardens Beach Resort to catch some sun and then head back to my hotel for dinner.

Little did I know, my plans were about to change. I noticed two women laying behind me on the beach, chatting about heading to the island country of Martinique. Since my day trip to the island for the following day was canceled, I interrupted their conversation to ask some questions. Before I knew it, I had dinner plans. I expected a calm night – as these women were basically twice my age. Note to self: stop assuming.

I met Juliet (St. Lucian woman living in the United Kingdom) and Lucy (Polish woman living in Germany) in the lobby of my hotel that evening. We missed the complimentary shuttle. So, Juliet took charge and had it called back for us. We were going to crash the sister property’s cocktail party. As Juliet said, who could pass up free food and drinks?

These women wanted to pregame. After a couple of rum punches, we missed the complimentary shuttle… again. This time, the driver was not too happy about returning to pick us up. We were dropped off at a local bus stop, where I learned that sometimes hopping into a sketchy-looking, tiny van gets you to some amazing places.

For dinner, we ended up at a sushi restaurant at the Rodney Bay Marina.

Lucy did not want the night to end there. We walked over to the bar next door, where locals and expats created a delightful atmosphere. A few more drinks in, Lucy and I were learning to dance like islanders. Juliet, joined by some locals, were teaching us white girls how to move our hips. Within minutes, everyone at the bar wanted in on these lessons. As the night continued, we met some of Juliet’s friends and hitched a ride back to my hotel. I was exhausted. Pleasantly and happily exhausted. I said my goodbyes to the two new friends I made and went to sleep.

It was Thursday morning, and I was supposed to be on a boat to the island country of Martinique. My day trip to the island was canceled. Prior to leaving for St. Lucia, I had booked the “Martinique Day Trip from St. Lucia” through Viator for that day. The all-inclusive day trip included sailing on a motorized catamaran to Martinique, wandering the Le Grand Marche Couvert (large bazaar), exploring Fort-de-France, snorkeling the cove of Anse Dufour, and eating and drinking on the boat afterwards. Sounds wonderful. Too bad that I would not be experiencing any of it. For reasons unknown, Barefoot Holidays emailed me the day before advising me of the change in the date of departure. Unfortunately, this day trip only left from the northern part of St. Lucia, and I would no longer be in the area the following day.

I spent the past day planning to take a public ferry over to Martinique on my own. Waking up that morning, I said screw it – the day trip apparently was not meant to be. I slept in. After a week of traveling between continents and celebrating the New Year, this was going to be my first relaxing day of the week – or so I thought. As I was eating breakfast, I saw Juliet and Lucy walk into the restaurant. We ended up having breakfast together. Since my plans for the day were no more, I decided to take a second set of kitesurfing lessons.

I was supposed to be at Cas en Bas Beach later that afternoon. Upon my arrival, Beth quickly advised me that she would need to postpone my lessons to a later time. That was not going to work for me as I was transferring to another hotel about two hours away that evening.

They say things come in threes? First my flight was canceled, then my day trip to Martinique was canceled, and then my kitesurfing lessons were canceled. And during it all, for the first time in my life, I did not panic once! This past week of traveling set a completely new tone for my life. Peace and happiness. What took so long?

I turned around and ran back after my taxi driver. He took me back to the beach to search for my new friends free of charge.

We swam, drank, and had a local lunch on the beach. Three goodbyes later, this would be the final one.

The drive from Gros Islet to Soufriere is not for the faint hearted. As my stomach was twisting and turning, I had to ask my driver Isaac to pull over several times along the way. Luckily, Isaac and I shared the same sense of humor. We cracked jokes and jammed out to reggae until my face lost color from the drive. It quickly became evident that someone above sure had been looking out for me the past week, ensuring that I made friends every day and everywhere I went. We exchanged contact information, and he offered to take me out the following night for some local seafood and dancing.

As the paved road turned to rock, the car abruptly stopped. The Still Beach House (the hotel that I was staying at) was at the very end of Soufriere, overlooking a beach. The security guard walked me down several steps directly into a room. I expected to check in at a reception desk or lobby, like at every hotel that I have ever stayed at. Nope. One did not exist. The security guard handed me the keys to my room, motioned to the cocoa tea he made me, and gave me three pieces of bread. As I set my backpack down, I asked him what the noise was. Apparently, the toilet and shower have been running and leaking for days. I was a bit confused. There was nobody at the hotel that I could speak to.

I played plumber for about an hour, trying to figure out where to cut the water supply to the room, until I snapped and went to go find the security guard. Normally, I would ignore the roaches roaming around and disregard the decapitated rat outside of the door, but I paid more than double to stay at this hotel. I wanted to end my holiday more luxuriously than sleeping in a bunk bed. The security guard tried to call the manager, but she said there was nothing that she could do that night. Back in the room, I did what I do best – made the best out of the situation. I pulled the mattress away from the wall, blew up my own pillow, and used my jacket as a blanket.

I woke up early that Friday to go speak with a manager. Nope. Only the housekeeper visits the property. I spent the morning using my snowboard tool to help the plumber take apart the shower.

Meanwhile, the housekeeper phoned the owner, who eventually made sure to take care of me. I was given a peace offering of breakfast, water, and a fruit plate to the new room that I was transferred to. After sharing my experience via email, I was also refunded one night’s stay.

Prior to arriving in St. Lucia, I arranged a full day of scuba diving with the Hummingbird Beach Resort (located next door to the Still Beach House). Chester, the dive master, is highly recommended on TripAdvisor. I reserved two dives with him for $120 USD, which included all equipment. The dive was set to go out that morning. Still sick, I really did not feel like diving. I emailed Chester and expressed my apologies for canceling last minute.

Other than scuba diving, there is not much to do in Soufriere. It is a quiet place.

If I had a “do over”, I would not have stayed overnight in Soufriere. As the locals emphasized, Soufriere is a place that you visit for a day. And, staying here on Friday meant that I would miss the famous Gros Islet Friday Night Street Party, which I unfortunately only learned about during my stay in Gros Islet.

Soufriere is geared towards tourists – guided hiking, commercialized Sulphur springs and mud baths, and a drive-in volcano.

I did not want to do any of that. I quickly reached out to the locals I met while out dancing in Gros Islet. They offered to come pick me up from Soufriere and take me back up North for the Friday Night Street Party. Thinking back to the motion sickness that I would have to endure for the two-hour drive each way, I could not agree to the offer. I ended up texting my driver from the first night to take me somewhere else. I opted for the drive-in volcano. Nothing special. I was there and back within hours.

I had the rest of the day to myself. Before I could make myself comfortable at the lunch table, I heard from Isaac. I honestly expected to be bored out of my mind, doing nothing but relaxing for eleven days. I was wrong. Completely wrong. The last nine days have been entirely unexpected. Surrounded by new friends, sleepless nights, and adrenaline-enriched activities, I needed a vacation from my vacation. At this point, I had not spent one day or night alone in over a week. I had to cancel my plans with Isaac for that night. I wanted “me” time.

I traded in my glass of rum for a cup of tea, and took my laptop to the balcony. As I sat down to begin writing about the last few weeks, I could not help but smile. One of the only trips that I was ever anxious about, turned out to be one of the best I have ever taken. Embrace change. A little courage goes a long way. What a trip. I wanted to leave on a high, so I decided to leave the island a day early. And of course, I did not want to run into anybody from the wedding. I found a nonstop flight home to Chicago for the next morning and left.