St. Bart’s Rental Was Ideal Getaway

What’s the point of flying off to the Caribbean when there’s perfectly fine swimming weather at home? And why bother renting a house for a few days when you could just as easily stay in a hotel?

Last July, my husband and I rented a villa on this tiny French island. We had never traveled to the Caribbean during the summer, nor had we ever rented a house instead of a hotel room.

Both risks were well worth taking. It turned out to be one of our most memorable vacations.

We had wanted to go to St. Bart’s for some time, but found it too expensive in winter. Of course, in summer you’re not likely to spot Brooke Shields or Mikhail Baryshnikov, but is that worth a couple of grand?

As for the house, it was bigger, more private and a better buy than a good hotel on the island.

A friend told me that renting one of the many private villas available on St. Bart’s was the best thing to do.

“There no such thing as a bad house,” said the friend, who gave me the number of WIMCO (West Indies Managememt Co.), a Rhode Island-based firm that handles rentals on St. Bart’s. A nice woman answered the phone and patiently explained the different sizes, prices and locations of houses available.

At summer prices, it was possible to get a two-bedroom villa with its own small swimming pool for $900 for five days; it could easily have accommodated two couples. (In high season, the same villa would go for about $3,000 a week.)

During winter, which is St. Bart’s high season, weekly villa rentals range from about $700 for small studios without pools to $10,000 for spectacular hillside dwellings with five bedrooms and private pools. In general, the nicer, more spacious villas are on the hillsides rather than the beach.

I was apprehensive about signing up for a house sight unseen. What if it was dirty? Or had bugs? Or was just too inconveniently located? What if we really missed being able to simply beckon a waiter for a pina colada? Would it be too inconvenient to go to the rental office to make phone calls since most of the houses are not equipped with telephones?

As soon as we landed safely on St. Bart’s short runway, after a 10-minute flight from nearby St. Martin’s, all fears were quickly dispelled.

A charming young Frenchman met us at the airport villa office and guided us over the steep winding roads to our villa. It was located on the Vitet village hillside and had a sweeping view of the blue waters of Petit Cul de Sac.

The simple house was typical of the West Indies, with a peaked red tin roof, gingerbread trim and terra cotta floors. The kitchen and dining room were in a detatched wing from the living room and bedrooms. Both wings were joined by a common roof and faced the swimming pool and deck area.

There was also a lovely sort of outdoor living room furnished with oversized rattan sofa and chairs and protected from sun and rain by a roof. This arrangement made it possible to live outdoors without constantly applying a layer of sun screen.

The bedroom was air-conditioned, which made it more pleasant for sleeping and also provided an escape from mosquitoes. (Do bring a can of repellent.) The kitchens are fully equipped and linens are provided.

We immediately felt at home and fell comfortably into the island routine.

Even during our brief stay, we had the feeling of living on the island rather than just being tourists. Best of all, it gave us the precious gift of tranquil time alone and soon became a kind of second honeymoon cottage.

And yes, there is maid service. Every morning except Sunday, someone comes in to make the bed, tidy up and even wash any dishes lingering in the sink.

We drove down to the big supermarket across the street from the airport to shop for supplies and get acclimated to local life.

While French rock music played in the background, we bought wine and cheese flown in from France and stocked up on basics. At charming little rotisseries, we bought freshly baked croissants, baguettes and deliciously prepared takeout foods. There is never a problem finding something decent to eat on a French island.

In the morning we would get up when we pleased and have coffee and croissants at our leisure. Our only time constraint was remembering that most of the island stores shut down from noon to three. Then we would drive off every day to a different beach--each more glorious than the next.

The first day we lurched over the steep hills to Gouverneur, an isolated stretch of sugary sand, tranquil water and a mere handful of other swimmers.

On another day we went to the beach at St. Jean, which is more crowded and commercial and offers water sports. Then to Flamands on the ocean side with its real surf. One day we took a half-day sail which stopped at Colombier beach, otherwise accessible only by a fairly strenuous hike.

When the tropical sun blazed at high noon, we would usually retreat to our hillside hideaway for a leisurely picnic and take a dip in the pool. One day we had steak frites and icy beer at Chez Francine right on St. Jean beach. For a big splurge, lunch at Taiwana and you might find yourself sitting next to Christie Brinkley--maybe even in the off-season.

The afternoons are long and lazy. Plenty of time to read or nap after lunch. And then go back to the beach when the sun is less searing. Around five, it’s cool enough to play tennis. At sunset, we sat on the terrace and sipped a glass of Beaujolais. And then we went off in search of more fabulous French food at one of the many island restaurants.

About half of the restaurants were closed for the summer, including Castelets, widely regarded as the best on the island, but that doesn’t mean there was any problem finding a good meal.

One night we ate at Francois Plantation, a gracious country inn with an open air dining room furnished in antique mahogany.

Another evening found us at Hotel La Banane, a less formal, less pricey dining experience. On another occasion we chose local lobster at Le Flamboyante, a modest restaurant on the terrace of a private home owned by enterprising folks who also built and rent out their tennis courts to tourists.

Food is expensive on St. Bart’s--everything is imported. But while the restaurant prices are astronomical, shopping at the supermarket or take-out shops won’t put much of a dent in your wallet.

And that’s another advantage of having access to a kitchen. We didn’t do much serious cooking, but chose to put together simple picnics of roasted chicken and prepared salads.

St. Bart’s is chic French--an island version of the Cote D’Azur. You’ll find no gambling casinos, golf courses or discos here. Just sun, sand, sea and plenty of good food, in season and off.