I heard once there are only two types of people who go to St. Barts: Euro-trash and rich assholes. While I cannot be sure which group I belong to, I have a strong suspicion.

St. Barts (or St. Barths if you’re French or pronounce “croissant” with excessive use of the throat), is located somewhere in the eastern Caribbean Sea. Where exactly is impossible to say. It’s not a Caribbean Island, but is part of the Leeward Islands, which belong to The Lesser Antilles (The Greater Antilles are Cuba, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, Hispaniola, which the countries of Haiti and Dominican Republic share, and Grand Cayman.) Also, it’s part of the French West Indies even though it is east of the continental U.S. It is west of France. I would say it’s near Puerto Rico, but no one knows where that is either.

This small island nation was named after Christopher Columbus’ brother, Bartholomew. Chris was the first European to land there in 1493. He was an Italian employed by Spain. Eventually the Swedes managed the island for a while, then the Brits invaded. Then the Swedes got it back. After a few natural disasters, they wanted it off their balance sheet believing it to be a money pit and sold it to France. France has since kept it. Colonialism is complicated. Obviously the indigenous people who lived there, the Arawak Indians, were not consulted on any of this.

We flew to St. Maarten before hopping a Cessna Carvan to St. Barts. The landing is notoriously exciting. Pilots must have special certifications to land at SBH. The approach is steep, and the terrain, notorious for preventing the reuse of airplanes when impacted, is unnervingly close on the final approach. I included a video. The runway is only 2100’ and ends in the ocean, unlike most runways which are over 8000’ and end in a grassy field. You definitely notice the lack of a grassy field when there isn’t one.

Fortunately landing is the least dangerous thing you’ll be doing since driving on the island is way more treacherous. Hairpin turns, limited parking, cramped roads, clueless tourists (like us), impatient (French) locals, steep hills, and hundred foot drop offs into the sea all make driving a real “killer.” Apart from service vehicles, almost everyone drives a version of Mini Cooper. Originally a British brand, it’s now owned by BMW, who are German, on an island full of young or geriatric French people, all catering to a variety of European tourists, with a few Americans here and there. Again, colonialism makes for odd bedfellows.

The infrastructure cannot handle large influxes of people, so the island has retained a charm lost to many island destinations looking to maximize profit from the traveling masses. Rotund cruise ships cannot dock at St. Barts, which I think suits the locals. There are also no Sandals-esque hotels.

Of the islands in the Caribbean I’ve visited, I liked St. Barts the best. Crazy driving conditions notwithstanding, it felt unique … a piece of Europe accidentally discarded in the Atlantic, and a gruff population that embraces their outpost at the edge of the Caribbean Sea.