By Sarah Greaves-Gabbadon
CJ Travel Editor
There’s no beach in sight. No sandy scallop being washed by foam-frilled waves.
Yet this is a vista that’s in no way diminished by a lack of sand. And I just can’t look away.
I’ve only been in my room here at St. Croix’s Hotel Caravelle for a matter of minutes, and I really should be examining the newly-renovated digs.
But I’m drawn to the sliding glass doors which overlook Christiansted Harbor, its expanse splayed only about 20 feet from where I’m standing.
The sun is slowly starting to descend, casting a silvery sheen on the water’s surface and throwing the green hills to my left into sharp relief. Cotton wool clouds make their slow and silent transit across the blushing sky.
Day-trippers are returning home from jaunts to Buck Island and nearby Protestant Cay, their laughter as they disembark the pleasure boats now anchored alongside the boardwalk filling the air. From here I can hear the lap of waves against the docks, strains of Bob Marley waft up from RumRunners, the waterfront bar and restaurant directly below.
It’s a Caribbean scene as classic as the hotel I’m staying in, which has been right here for half a century. And I can relate. Because I’m in no hurry to move from this spot, either.
