I love the French side of St. Martin. Every morning, I make my way to the main town of Marigot. Overlooking a small harbor called Marina Royale, I sit at a table at La Croissanterie and order a buttery and hot croissant, served with a café au lait so strong it makes Starbucks taste like water. Then I stroll along the winding alleys behind the harbor, as the hot sun begins its ascent, and soon Marigot starts to feel like a town on the French Riviera. Boutiques, restaurants, and small markets line the streets. On Rue de la Liberte, the latest French fashions can be found. A must stop for all foodies is the Gourmet Boutique on Rue de l’Anguille, to snack on Brie and Camembert cheeses, Godiva chocolates, fresh baguettes, and the tastiest jambon (ham).

I dread the Dutch half of St. Martin. The beaches are just as fine as those on the French side, but the traffic is unbearable, and unlike the French influence in St. Martin, Sint Maarten has very little Dutch flavor. There are no gabled houses, winding cobblestone streets or canals. No pastel-colored walls or orange-colored roofs that resemble the storybook village of Willemstad, capital of the Dutch island of Curacao. I couldn’t even find a store that would serve me a chunk of Gouda cheese. Instead, Sint Maarten’s capital, Phillipsburg, offers us the mile-long Front Street. Designed with the duty-free cruise ship passenger in mind, the stretch of stores on this street offers such indigenous wares as Cartier watches and Sony electronics. Uggh!