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An USAmerican in Paradise
Part Three
Martha K. Harrison
When we set off to spend several months in a foreign country, the thought of
missing US Holidays didn’t cross our minds - until they were upon us. So
far, we have celebrated Memorial Day and the Fourth of July in St-Barth.
In Alpine, New Jersey, where I had lived for almost 17 years, Memorial Day is
celebrated with a parade and cookout that is probably more of an excuse to have
a party than to observe the Holiday. I always host a party for neighbors
and less fortunate friends from other towns (who don’t have a parade coming by
their homes) and we sit on the porch and amuse ourselves with the goings on.
One year with the Winter Olympics still fresh in our minds, we had cards to
flash at the people in the parade. One side had a 3 printed on it....the
other side a 10. Everyone enjoyed our humor except the politicians
who mostly got 3s!
As the end of the parade passes the houses along the street, residents fall into
formation to join it and walk to the cemetery down the block that has a monument
in honor of our Veterans. This is where the local elementary school band
sets up and entertains us for the next hour. The Local, County and State
politicians take advantage of their captive audience to make their rhetoric
heard; however, this is the time neighbors catch up with each other’s news
ignoring the ramblings being made at the microphone. At the end of the
ceremony we then go to the Municipal Building for a cookout, band, and softball
games. It is a nice tradition
This year I remembered it was Memorial Day only because I went on-line to check
the stock market and found it closed. After parade withdrawal, we headed
to the local bar and grill to have what is described as the best burger on the
Island. Since we don’t have a grill, eating their version of a vegetarian
cheeseburger was the next to best thing to a cookout! They don’t serve
grain burgers like I buy at home, so actually we ate tomato sandwiches with
lettuce, pickles, and cheese on a bun with French Fries that give some of our
fast food chains a run for their money. This is the same bar that the
owner of our house insisted we go to because of its local flavor. He
described it as ’’Le Select in Gustavia, under the trees, which is the
social center of the island, where you find top actors, sail bumps, unskilled labor
men, senators and all kinds of people mixed together.’’ I
quickly faxed him back to tell him I thought unskilled labor men and Senators
were the same thing. ‘’Touché’’ he replied! We purchased
fireworks at the local video rental store and had our own little party on the
beach. Neighbors came out on their terraces to quietly watch and seemed
mildly amused by our enthusiasm. The 4th of July was pretty similar to
Memorial Day....the only thing I did differently was to thank all the French
people I ran into during the day for their gift of the Statue of Liberty.
Before coming here, I marked my computer calendar with pertinent dates for the
French. The 14th of July is Bastille Day. Our biggest hurdle in
finding out what the day’s events were was no one here calls it Bastille Day,
so they had no idea what I was asking about. Fete de Nationale is the
proper name. With the language problem solved we then asked everyone we know
here what festivities were planned and they eagerly told us of all the bands
playing at the bars on Saturday night....which was the 12th of July. I
finally called the tourism board and they didn’t know what the plans were
either but they gave me the name of one of the Assistant Mayors to call.
He supplied me with information of the festivities. 10 a.m. we would meet
at the Monument of Death.....this should have been my first clue of what would
follow. After the ceremonies at this monument, we would retire to the
Mayor’s chambers for champagne....you have to give the French credit....they
know how to entertain! We got up bright and early and dressed in red,
white, and blue - making a point to leave in time to find a parking place.
Much to our surprise the town was completely empty except a few people at Le
Select. We parked next to the harbor and walked up the hill to the
Monument of Death and no one was there...but, we heard loud speakers blasting
Sousa type Marches from the Mayor’s office. There was not one car on the
road and no one to be seen. We gingerly went up the stairs to the office
and found about 25 people sitting, talking quietly with each other sipping
champagne. We sat down and were given drinks and proceeded to smile a lot.
The only familiar face was Yves Bessas, our health store owner, I have no idea
who the other people were or where they came from.
Once people stopped sizing us up and I stopped smiling, I spotted an older
man I had been most anxious to meet - Remy de Haenen. He was seated next
to the Mayor and I wondered if it was okay to get out of my seat and mingle.
At any party in the USA the politicians would be shaking hands and kissing
babies, but not here! The Mayor sat regally in his big Mayor’s chair at
his big Mayor’s table and waited for people to greet him. To get to
Monsieur de Haenen, we had to get through the Mayor.... please don’t
misunderstand me, it isn’t that I didn’t want to meet the Mayor, I
just don’t think we share many of the same political views so I wanted to
avoid meeting him. Besides, his pompadour hair scared me and I have long
lost the ability to grin and bear it like a good Southern Belle should!
After obligatory glad-handing, I pushed by the Mayor to meet Monsieur de Haenen
and he was everything I knew he would be.
The first thing I noticed about Monsieur de Haenen was his great eyes, I suppose
when you have seen as much as he has your eyes would have a special mystery to
them. In 1945 Remy became the first person to land a plane on St-Barth, I
asked him if he got excited knowing he was the first and he replied ‘’No,
why would I? I didn’t know I was making history - I was just
checking on my boats’’ He said his business involved boats and
transport and he initially came here just to check on deliveries. He asked
me how I knew so much about him - I laughed and told him I had read all
about him and he said with a surprised look and big smile ‘’You read
about me!? ’’ He alone proves my point that the real heroes never have
puffed chests (or pompadour hair). When Remy realized I knew his place in
history, he admitted in a whispered voice that he had been excited when he
landed for the first time on the Island of Saba. Its runway is now 390
meters long.
Remy had flown to Saba many times on his sea plane and even delivered the mail
to its people by dropping it as close as possible to the small hospital on the 5
square mile Island. Saba has no beaches except at very low tides and
is mostly visited by divers and snorkelers. We can see Saba from St-Barth
and it looks like a volcano rising from the sea, its altitude quickly reaches
3000 feet above sea level. In 1959 the people asked Remy to try and land
his plane on their Island and to help them develop an airport. He
researched the area and found only one spot that might serve as a runway - a
place called Flat Point on the edge of a cliff. He asked the people to
clear the small area of rocks and stones and to paint planks of wood yellow so
he would be able to see the runway from the air. Much to his amazement
when he returned in one week, the whole population had worked non stop to finish
the job. He then announced that if the wind and weather conditions were good the
next day he would attempt to land around 11 a.m.
He succeeded that day in landing his plane on less than 100 yards of raw
terrain. I have seen the photos of that historical day, the whole
Island’s population showed up in their best clothes and the herds of sheep and
goats were gathered to one corner of the field he landed in He was greeted
with huge bouquets of flowers, champagne, and cheers, the Priest even came to
bless his plane. Even today I would be beyond ‘’excited’’ to land
on Saba....other words do come to mind, though.
Once Remy saw St-Barth he decided to make it his home building a spectacular
hotel on the La Plage St. Jean named Eden Rock. It sits out on a small
peninsula and is made of lava rock, it is simple and elegant just like its
creator. He was the Mayor of St-Barth from 1962-1977...and people here
still like and respect him! He now lives a quiet life in Santo Domingo to
be close to his Grand-daughter and Great-Granddaughter, he is a widow and says
it is too noisy where he lives.
When he visits St-Barth, the present owners of Eden Rock always honor him by
having him stay at the hotel as their guest. How nice he is treated like
the living legend he is.....how nice he doesn’t know he is one.
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