Virgin Islands are jewel in bright crown of Caribbean destinations

The northeastern Caribbean is easy on the brain and the eye. It lacks the variety of last year's southern destinations. No dramatic volcanoes, no lush rain forest, and the natives seem a little less exotic. But it delivers the stunning beaches and breathtaking blue expected in the region, and it's blessed to be within easy striking distance of Florida so requires little logistic effort. Our seven-day cruise combined the convenience of a Ft. Lauderdale departure with four ports of call: the Bahamas, St. Maarten, St. Thomas and and Grand Turk.

This was my fourth visit to St. Thomas, so perhaps I am artificially pre-disposed to like it, but I have to say that the Virgin Islands (British or American) remain my favourite destination in all of the jewels in this shining sea. Mostly because they look so good. There are scores of Virgins; the big ones you know about (St. Thomas, St. John, Tortola, Virgin Gorda), surrounded by little ones. Almost any vista here takes in beaches and numerous islands and coastlines. All of which gives the water an incredible range of colour as the depths vary from beach to channel to beach to deep sea. European discoverer Columbus was clearly impressed by the beguiling number of islets as well, since he named the chain after St. Ursula's legendary 11,000 virgin companions. The vegetation here admittedly isn't lush, but when you can tear your eyes away from the sea you'll find it's green enough for a nice juxtaposition, and the hills add to the view.

On the convenience front, St. Thomas also comes with the added benefit of being an American territory. While it's still a bit ramshackle and laid back, on the whole this place is freshly painted, solidly built and humming with American efficiency and cheerful customer service. While there are other candidates for best shopping in the Caribbean, I will cast my vote for Charlotte Amalie with its helpful sales people, well-maintained shops and efficient shuttles going to and from the cruise port. (Though I, needing exercise, opted for the very pleasant two-mile walk.)

We spent the afternoon on an expedition to Turtle Cove aboard the sailing ship Doubloon (see www.doubloon.com), probably the best Caribbean tourist excursion I've experienced. The two-masted sailing ship offered the romance of pirate legend, but was fitted out for modern comfort. The crew was wildly entertaining as well as being very knowledgeable about the area; one was a marine biologist. We motored three nautical miles out to the cove, dropped anchor and snorkeled in a protected area where green sea turtles graze contentedly on a field of sea grass about 15 feet below. If you get tired of the turtles (which would be difficult as they are endlessly diverting) a reef populated with a wide variety of life, including some magnificent black spiny sea urchins, curves around one side of the snorkel area. It was heavenly. Even better was the cruise back to the ship under full sail, rum punch flowing and Jimmy Buffett tunes on the sound system as the exquisite shorelines around Charlotte Amalie slipped past. Life doesn't get much better than this.

In second place on this year's destination rankings comes Grand Turk. We had a great time here last year and then heard with dismay of its battering by two hurricanes last fall. Reading of almost complete devastation, I thought we might be diverted elsewhere. But rebuilding carried on at high speed and the giddily-painted cruise centre looked just as festive and well maintained as last January. Only a few roofs still to be completed hinted at all the rebuilding that had taken place. Otherwise the place was pristine and so new the paint was hardly dry. A collection of shops curve around a series of courtyards leading to a giant Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville bar, which overlooks one of those massive, winding pools you find in luxury resorts. Well-maintained beaches fringed with palm trees (newly-planted) and featuring startlingly blue water edge the whole complex. It's one of those delightful ports where you can get off the cruise ship and find all you need within walking distance. Which is exactly the Princess corporation's intent, of course, since they own the whole place.

We bought into some more snorkeling, however, so left the Princess oasis for a drive through the real Grand Turk. And here the hurricane damage was still intense, with perhaps half the homes roofless and derelict and lots of people still living in tents. Not surprising, but perhaps a fine testimony to the long-term thinking of the natives, the cruise centre and the hospital got rebuilt first, now it's the school's turn. Individual housing is taking a back seat to general employment and welfare. Our snorkeling here wasn't as good as on St. Thomas, though it's hard to say if that was because of reef damage, because we were out in the slanted light of late afternoon, or because it just wasn't as good a snorkel site. I did see some particularly impressive tiger fish, so that made my afternoon.

Third favourite comes Princess Cays, the cruise operator's private resort area in the Bahamas. There's little here besides the beach ... but a lovely beach it is. Four artificially scalloped bays are separated by the dock at which the tenders from the ship land, and by little outcroppings of stone manned by lifeguards. On shore there are abundant beach chairs and umbrellas, a few shops, bars with wait staff ambitiously patrolling the beach chairs for orders, snorkel rental, a live band doing the expected mix of steel drum classics, Buffett and Marley, and an outpost of the ship's restaurant that serves up a big beach barbecue. The weather was perfect, the colours intense and the novelty of the ship in the distance at anchor, rather than at a land-based dock, made for a pleasant view. My only complaint? We pre-booked snorkel hire for $35 per person and really shouldn't have wasted the money. There's a limited reef here and few fish. We should have just soaked up the free amenities and the sun. That said, I was perfectly happy to substitute a "real" port for Princess Cays. It was a beautiful, hassle free day at the beach.

Coming in a distant fourth was St. Maarten, which I have no desire to ever set foot upon again. I think of the Caribbean as a region characterised by cheerful, laid back people dedicated to customer service. The denizens of St. Maarten make the worst New York stereotype look pleasant. They are truculent, disinterested, silent and seem incapable of cracking a smile. I thought this might have only been the guy who handled wheelchair assistance from the boat. But upon my fifth native who refused to make eye contact or engage in anything resembling conversation, I had to conclude there was something going on with the whole population. That was reinforced when we were ripped off royally on beach chair rental. Mom, close to exhaustion, really needed to get off her feet. So we headed for the first spot on the beach and the attendant told us $20 for two chairs for the afternoon. Cushions extra. That seemed ridiculous, but I needed to get Mom settled so I payed up. Later in the afternoon I saw the sign that said $20 for two chairs, two pina coladas and two cushions. I had to chase the attendant mercilessly to get the drinks, and then he expressed his irritation when I didn't tip him. (The $20 was all I had.) Despite multiple requests he never did bring the cushions, so I finally liberated two from their premises myself.

They might be excused, or at least forgiven, if they lived in some sort of paradise. Sorry. The beach near the port was good, but the shopping street behind it was a run down, tacky version of St. Thomas filled with rude shop keepers. Clearly, if there is a God he is paying no attention to the Caribbean, because nobody with any sense of justice could have let a hurricane wipe out the lovely people of Grand Turk and leave these hostile natives untouched to rip off every visitor. If I ever cruise back here, I will take a tour to the French side of the island, where the welcome HAS to be better. And that, coming from someone who is not often a fan of our Gallic cousins, is saying a lot.