A dream view
A mere two or three hundred meters from the restaurant stood the cable car station. I found myself unexpectedly intrigued. I knew we wouldn’t find snow at the summit, which made me all the more curious about what was up there. The name itself was compelling: Paradise Point.
Naturally, the name suggested a scenic viewpoint. We had just enough time, not enough to go hunting for a beach, but too much to head back to the ship and rot in our tin can. There were a few guests ahead of us, but no excessive crowds. This piqued my interest even more; the moment I see a massive line, I almost automatically veer away. The ticket price was reasonable, around twenty dollars. But I was in for an even more pleasant surprise at the counter. As soon as they spotted the ship ID around my neck (which we are required to wear at all times, like a cowbell), they informed me that the crew rate was only five dollars. Even better, I certainly wasn’t going to complain about that.
Both my Indian colleague and I, who had tagged along, received wristbands. These served as our tickets. Once they see it on your wrist, no one asks any questions. We stood on the platform, waiting for the gondola to reach us. The ascent began. Honestly, I didn’t expect anything special. Knowing how Americans market their tours, I assumed the name was just hype, nothing more than a decent view and likely a couple of gift shops. But with every meter we climbed, I found myself looking around more intently. It is incredible how a view of a single place can differ so drastically from two different angles. Down below, everything seems simple: streets are just streets, three ships lined up, a port. Nothing spectacular, one might say. Up here, a completely different image. Like another planet.
The harbor entrance was magnificent; nature had carved out a beautiful bay where the ships were anchored. The colors of the sea and the surroundings were fantastic, unreal. The beauty of that vista is almost impossible to describe. I was left speechless, a rare occurrence indeed. We stepped off the tram to inspect everything more closely. The summit featured a large lookout point, a massive terrace flanked by restaurants and shops. How else would Americans do it? I walked past the shops to the edge of that vast terrace, which offered the best vantage point. There was nothing left to do but simply enjoy it. Truly. It was not a scene from this planet. The most beautiful postcard I could have imagined didn’t come close to this reality.
We had no choice but to sit on that terrace, grab a drink, and bask in our discovery, especially since the ticket price we paid allowed for a little extra indulgence. And this truly was a discovery, as it wasn’t overcrowded. Neither crew nor guests; most had gone elsewhere. All the better for us, we could enjoy it more. We took a heap of “postcards” on that terrace. I call them that because the photos we took looked more like professional postcards than amateur snapshots. We enjoyed ourselves for as long as time permitted. Two hours later, we had to head back. Another advantage of this spot was its proximity to the ship. There was no chance of being late or getting stuck in traffic, as often happens in other ports. After the descent, a mere five-minute walk separated us from the ship. We could wait until the very last minute and maximize our free time.
And so ended our first outing in St. Thomas. I was more than satisfied. Regardless of where I end up, I doubt I will see something more beautiful many times in my life. This place showed us firsthand why it bears the name Paradise Point. It was up to us to continue exploring this beautiful island.
