Maybe it’s just my gaping head wound talking — day-drinking light and dark rum + stairs = trouble, kids! — but Carnival in cheery St. Thomas, the when-in-Rome excuse I had to get my sugarcaned sottishness on, is hands-down (in front of the toilet, likely) the best in the Caribbean for beginners.
And that’s saying something, considering there’s no shortage of Carnivals to choose from in the ’hood. Each island hosts some form of it (usually lasting a a few days to a week, at least, if not a whole dang month), and they’re all staggered throughout the year, so just about every calendar week you can find some costumed, parading psychopathy, somewhere. Montserrat and St. Kitts wrapped their Christmas/New Years tie-ins just last week. Haiti’s is a more proper Mardi Gras tailgating affair, running the opening week of March. St. Maarten, like St. Thomas, doesn’t get down until April through early May. While others prefer their bacchanalian hangovers in the summer, like Grenada’s “Spice Mas” and Barbados’ “Crop Over” June-barreling-into-August extended plays.
Seems the Carnival everybody always wants to talk about, however, is Trinidad and Tobago’s notoriously naked, nutso affair (you’ll have to wait till March to indulge). Makes sense theirs should be the wildest of the bunch, given they’re the Caribbean country nearest Brazil — the crazy has rubbed off, for sure.
But good old no-passport-requiring St. Thomas, being a United States Virgin Islander and all, has a mellower, considerably more laid-back take on things. Warning: Laid-back isn’t at all code for straight-edge, by any means — this is the homeland of Kelsey Grammer, dontcha know!
Now in its 62nd annual go-round, running April 5 through May 3., St. Tommy’s Carnival kicks off with calypso competitions and a steel band jamboree, and ends with its headliner, the adult’s parade (there’s a cuter kiddie one the day before) in the USVI capital of Charlotte Amalie, right in the center of the island’s southern coast. It starts at the Western Cemetery, works its way down Main Street, and ends at Lionel Roberts Stadium. Costumes are typically some combination of feathers, sequins and (mostly) skin; troupe sizes range from a few dozen people, to hundreds. Along the route, spectators — and there are thousands — set up folding chairs and park it on either side of the road to watch for hours and hours … and hours (last year’s parade was delayed by rain and ran well into the night).
Also along the 1½ -mile path, some entrepreneurial residents repurpose their houses as pop-up mini-marts. Need some BBQ wings and a Red Bull? Come on in and help yourself, friend — after you hand over a few bucks, thank you kindly.
But first, there’s J’ouvert, the pre-party party that goes down two days before the adult parade, where damn near the entire island parades in Charlotte Amalie at sunrise (it used to start even earlier, at 4 a.m., but it’s since been pushed back for security reasons) from Addelita Cancryn Junior High School, winding through Veterans Drive and down the waterfront.
During Trinidad’s J’ouvert (so I’ve been told by a hardcore vet), random people will just approach you, cover you in mud, paint and/or baby powder, then slap you in the face — closed fisted if they’re especially festive. Fun as that sounds, maybe skip that one for now if you’re a noob — baby steps.
But alternatively, for St. Thomas’ J’ouvert, party people just like to play really good, really loud live music on slow-moving, giant open-air trucks, and wear ridiculous outfits (psychedelic — as if there’s any other kind — smurfs, check; naked-save-for-the-suspenders Super Mario Bros., you better believe it). You come for the calypso, but you stay for the homemade word tees — some favorites this past year: “I’m not a gynecologist, but I’ll take a look”; “Don’t bite the d*** that feeds you”; and the very straight-to-the-point gem some 300-pound gentleman was sporting read, “Don’t ask me for s***!” on the front — and back, to drive his point home.
Unfortunately, this past year’s J’ouvert saw a bit of unpleasantness in the form of a triple shooting (no worries, no one died). Turns out I was 10 feet away from it at the time, but was completely unaware of it because the music was so loud. I didn’t even notice people around me were running away. Ace reporter = this guy!
After that, though, it was all peace and love, peace and love. I walked in the adult’s parade dressed like an Arab pirate of some sort — I think? — in the Caribbean Ritual Dancers troupe.
I started the day sober in a vest and a skort, toting a plastic sword. I ended the day vestless, skortless and swordless — just barely in my T-shirt and shorts — with a double-digit BAC, a dazed smile on my face and four staples in my forehead courtesy of the local ER. Somewhere in between I dirty-danced with belly-dancing Arab princesses (brilliantly choreographed by troupe leader, Diane) and barflyed heavily at our float/schizo-flavored Cruzan rum dispensary on wheels.
Oh, the fuzzy maybe-true, maybe-not memories.
We must have done something right, because our group won for best troupe under 50 people — I like to think my wandering off and getting lost half-way in probably helped the most.
You’re welcome!
Lowdown
Go: Sample nonstop winter/spring fare from NYC was $368/RT on Delta (delta.com)
Stay: From $327/night at the airport-adjacent Best Western Plus Emerald Beach Resort in Lindbergh Bay, emeraldbeach.com
Info: visitusvi.com; vicarnival.com
The North Pull
Tragically, it’s still a few months till St. Thomas’ Carnival — but that hardly means you have to hole up in your hotel room, clock-a-watchin’ and thumb-a-twiddlin’. Here’s how to get out of the capital and enjoy the northerly side of St. Thomas while you wait.
Picnic bask it — Grab an amply-hot-sauced burger or jerk fill-in-the-blank (chicken, pork, even fish, weirdly enough) at Glady’s Cafe in Charlotte Amelie, then drive on over to Magens Bay beach, directly opposite the capital on the north side, to scarf it down. It costs a few bucks to use the beach, which goes toward keeping a lively lifeguard on call, on-site toilets clean and the sand litter-free. There’s a bustling beach bar, too — try the rum shake: it brings all the boys and girls to the yard.
High, there — The greatest views on the island can be had for free atop St. Peter Mountain — at 1,500 feet up, you can spy 20 different islands spying right back atcha. The catch? You have to walk through Mountain Top’s enormous airplane hangar of a gift shop that sells everything from bathing suits to banana daiquiris (7 million nanner-fans have) to get there. Tchotchke up then hit the observation deck and observe away (mountaintopvi.com).
Life of pie — The kinds of people who play at the north side’s Mahogany Run Golf Course can be the kinds of people who don’t much care for “scary Carnival” (and will only publicly say so within the safe confines of the pro shop). You don’t have to talk with these people. Just pull up a chair at its restaurant, The Grille, politely ignore them and then order the pizza. You won’t regret it — served up rectangularly, their flatbreaded pepperoni progeny beats much of what you’ll find in NYC (mahoganyrungolf.com).