Bored Walking.

Beach, breached.

Philipsburg, Sint Maarten — We’re encrusted in salt and sand.

A bucket of Carib, tucked at the base of our chairs, keeps us cool. It also gives us a mild floating sensation we can't blame entirely on the mild waves.

Especially after a second bucket appears — with small cups of rum punch.

A serpentine boardwalk winds between Philipsburg's colourful timbered structures, separating restaurants from the beach. Sandwich boards offer a variety of specials, wi-fi and clean bathrooms.

Hawkers rent chairs and umbrellas in an attempt to get you to stay near particular restaurants. Of course, we get a whispered "special deal." Performers dance behind a keyboard, playing reggae and the Eagles.

A day spent at a snail's pace.

Their sounds are softened as my head bobs under water. Music, muffled and caught in a bubble. 

Bright umbrellas line the beach like a rainbow of gumballs. The sun thumps and jerk chicken sizzles on the grill.

It’s a beach day in Sint Maarten, turquoise jewels shimmering around our faces.

We bob in the salt, bathing in the sun.

Bliss.