I’ve lived in tourist traps almost all my life. Show me a beach that isn’t a tourist trap. The reason I live close to beaches is because I’m addicted to being in or on the water. Fishing, sailing, scuba, snorkle, skiing, swimming, women in the scantiest garments or nothing at all, birding, or just watching the stars progress, or the weather—especially between June and November. Many tourists pay big money to do these things, between Mojitos, lines and blunts.
I don’t drink much at all, and don’t smoke anything anymore, so that part I don’t do. Mostly they pay me to take them diving and sailing. Pretty laid back. Overnight island hops or sunset cruises with champagne and good finger food, take my time returning under the stars. Give ‘em a taste of the good life. Tell them some island lore while just offshore under a nice moon.
“And beyond those cliffs is the Tascher Plantation, where Josephine, a beautiful and intelligent island creole, was groomed well by her father and the best tutors before being sent to Paris against her will when barely a teen to marry her first husband, a wealthy Viscount, who was guillotined before she married Napoleon and became Empress of France.” LOL. They love it.
Sometimes my first mate, a local, just makes shit up. But she tells great stories, so it’s cool. Her late night voodoo stuff is really good. You don’t have to hunt far for those old stories here. They are still just right under the surface.
I don’t charter for fishing because I run a sailboat and it messes up my deck—and it’s impractical for the modern fisherman. They prefer to get out to the grounds quickly and when sated, get back to the dockside lounge ASAP. They don’t want to do this under sail. They prefer a Sportsman Angler with outriggers and a tuna tower, and a minimum herd of 440 extremely loud horses hanging off the transom. Not my style at all.
So, I do some of it. But the fact is, I’ll always be seen as a foreigner here. These islanders are all of old, extended families—some slave and some masters—and you can’t buy your way into that history no matter how long you live here. The best you can hope for is to make good friends. It be dey island way, mon.