Ever since our first contact with them, when we flew over on our arrival, I had yearned to return. We hadn’t been lucky enough to land at the famous Maho Beach, the airport right by the sea, but our arrival in St. Thomas had been interesting enough. These islands were definitely beautiful, the jewels of this region. They were far more developed than most places we had visited so far. And how could they not be, when they are still, in the “name of democracy,” partitioned among the great powers?

Here, it is perfectly normal for an island visible on the horizon to belong to a completely different nation. The great colonial powers carved up this region long ago. Since then, depending on the era and circumstances, they have supported local uprisings whenever it suited their interests, their “higher goals,” and their backroom machinations. The big powers pit the small ones against each other to extract benefit, one way or another, directly or indirectly. France against England, England against the United States, America against Spain, England against Spain, round and round it goes, in every conceivable combination. From Cuba to Panama, the Bahamas to Puerto Rico, and on and on.

But that is simply the history of the world. It is nothing that hasn’t happened in some other corner of the globe following the same recipe. History repeating itself, just on different meridians. Unfortunately, it seems we were absent from class when this history was taught, having “bought” those lessons dearly only in our own recent past. But let’s not get into politics; I wouldn’t be saying anything new anyway. Let’s return to the island.

As with every approach, the first view of the coast told us enough. An open approach, a beautiful harbor in sight, and most importantly for us, a dock. This meant the disembarkation would be swift. Furthermore, a beach and a shopping center—larger than any we had seen so far—were within our line of sight. The color of the water was fantastic, rivaling the best beaches of the Caymans and Half Moon Cay. At first glance, everything promised a very beautiful port of call. It seemed to be one of the best ports among them all. But first, we had to do our job: photograph the guests. It turned out to be the fastest operation yet. The guests seemed to share our opinion about this port, so they were ready to leave the ship almost instantly. Usually, their exit comes in waves; they are sluggish in the morning, only picking up the pace and leaving around ten or eleven. This time, however, everyone was ready, and they surged out in one massive wave, like a tsunami.

We had to be on high alert to shoot as best we could. If they flew past us and we didn’t capture enough photos, the excellent port would mean nothing; the boss would make sure we regretted the day. We didn’t want to experience that, so we gave it our all. Fast and efficient, we snapped photos like machines. Much faster than usual, it was all over. By two o’clock, most of the guests were outside, and we had met our targets—three hundred or more photos each. That meant we were all happy and could focus on ourselves, each in our own way. As usual, I was the first to bolt, eager to see and learn something new. There were various options for sightseeing and activities here, but precisely because of that, I had to start from the basics. To get acquainted with the island and see what it had to offer. The more I learned now, the easier every future visit would be. If I explored something different each time, this would truly be one of the better ports, just as we all suspected.

Right at the exit, it was evident that this was a highly organized port. The pier was large and wide enough to accommodate even the biggest cruise liners. That is something not every port can boast. Moreover, they were looking ahead, into the future; alongside the existing ones, they were building new terminals and docks. Construction was in full swing right when we arrived. Work was happening everywhere, yet despite the activity, everything was passable enough to avoid congestion. This port would soon be capable of handling nearly a dozen ships simultaneously, which is truly worthy of respect.

At the very entrance to the pier, an interesting sight. The flags of France, the Netherlands, the USA, the European Union, and St. Marteen fluttered from the masts. All the countries are represented here. So, some ten thousand kilometers from Europe, we had actually sailed into the Netherlands!

As if that weren’t enough, the other part of the island belongs to France! This island is shared between these two nations. How progressive and advanced, in the 21st century, indeed. This was the first time I had seen something like this with my own eyes. All the countries I had seen so far were under the influence of great powers, mostly indirectly. Belize, Honduras, and Mexico had each fought against history and colonial influence in their own way. But here, it was still happening. In the present day, in reality.

Once again, I learned firsthand just how ignorant I was. All those history lessons were now becoming genuinely useful. It wasn’t just ancient history, something unnecessary; it was something happening here, now, right in front of me. Naturally, that familiar feeling of wonder and ignorance I felt upon arriving in Miami returned. And so, I repeated my first lesson to myself: better to keep my mouth shut and keep moving.

I finished with the historical introduction and entered the shopping center…