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Eating Our Way Through Sint Maarten

By Carrie Honaker



Forty-eight feet down, looking up from the sandy ocean !oor

where the JabJabs — a once floating bar, now artifcial reef,

lists starboard — I’m surrounded by life. Moray eels, lobsters,

rays, and two juvenile reef sharks swim in the cerulean

waters around me. The sharks are close enough to touch with

my camera mount and more curious than adults that haven’t

learned fear.

Life has been on repeat since landing, waking early for some

mango and johnnycake, watching the sun come up over the

ocean, assembling dive gear, boating out to one of the many

wrecks or reefs o# the waters of Sint Maarten, (also known

as Saint Martin) making my way down the line from the

mooring ball to the vibrant world under the sea.

The 37-square-mile island, home to two countries, is

friendly, above and below the water. Smiles are abundant,

words of welcome "ll the air, life is peaceful. The only

marking of a division between French and Dutch territories

is a monument on the roadside.


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