Coral Bay, St. John: Hamlet? Village? Burg?
Twenty years ago, when I first moved to St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands, I witnessed a bunch of locals engage in a rum-fueled debate about whether Coral Bay–the sleepy, far side of the island where I was living–was a village, a hamlet, or a burg.
There was no consensus then, and I can imagine the debate reigniting with fervor now that the New York Times has pronounced Coral Bay a “village” in today’s headline feature on winter travel.
Thanks to reporter Shannon Sims for including me in her story, excerpted below, about the joys of visiting St. John’s more remote corners.
You can read the full New York Times story here.
And you can read more of my Coral Bay stories in NOT ON ANY MAP: One Virgin Island, Two Catastrophic Hurricanes, and the True Meaning of Paradise.
From The New York Times: Chilling Out in Coral Bay
In her book, “Not on Any Map,” the journalist Margie Smith Holt wrote about waitressing at one of the most popular bars in Coral Bay, Skinny Legs, a laid-back hamburger shack with live music that often requires standing in line to get in. When I asked her to describe the village, Ms. Smith Holt laughed. “When you arrive, there’s a sign that says ‘Welcome to Coral Bay,’ but you look around and see nothing and you think, ‘Am I here?’”
“That’s the charm of Coral Bay,” she said.
Coral Bay has been called “the best harbour refuge in the West Indies” thanks to its topography, but Irmaria seemed to laugh at that description: Both storms barged right through the heart of the harbor. During my visit, hurricane damage was still visible. Masts of storm-sunken boats still jutted above the bay’s surface, and a pile of gnarled, vine-covered metal along the shore was all that remained of a favorite bar.
But Ms. Smith Holt described residents as “used to taking care of themselves,” given their remote locale, and today, signs of the community’s resilience far outnumber the hurricanes’ scars.
Skinny Legs continues to thrive. And new businesses have started up, like Surf Club Cantina, a restaurant with an open-air bar overlooking the bay. These spots remain so casual flip-flops are sufficient.
Or perhaps not even necessary. The village’s main attraction these days is Lime Out, a floating taco bar that also opened after the storms. The restaurant, in a pontoon cottage, is surrounded by inflatable floats — lily pads, as they call them — and as you eat, fish nibble at your toes.