On August 9th I set out to celebrate my 26th birthday on the furthest secluded beach I could get to on a budget. Though the free flight and amazingly low hotel price may have been a steal, I learned two very important things during my six day getaway: the British Virgin Islands are not a place to visit if you’re on a tight budget, and you shouldn’t visit during low-season if you’re young, single, and looking for any kind of nightlife fun.
In case you missed the previous post, let me preface this story with the fact that this was originally a birthday trip I had planned for myself and my (now ex) boyfriend. But shit happens, so my friend Stephanie stepped in and said she’d go. I met her at the airport in St Thomas and we took a $20 cab ride to the $55RT ferry to Tortola. I was excited to finally cruise around the islands in the warm Caribbean air, but that was hardly the case. The boat was fully enclosed and looked like it was about to sink at any minute (it actually did catch fire on the way back to St Thomas, but more on that later). We made it over to West End Tortola safely in about 45 minutes, and finally one last $10 cab ride got us to the resort in Long Bay.
Fast forward to check-in. When we arrived at the hotel I was greeted as Mrs. Edwards (my ex’s last name) for the next two days, no matter how many times I told them otherwise. Even though the reservation was in my name, they just couldn’t get it through their heads that he wasn’t there. It’s a good thing I wasn’t upset over this breakup, or it could’ve been painstakingly similar to the Sex and the City movie.
After checking in we hopped into a van and our driver dodged chickens and roosters to drive up a steep hill, around to a secluded entrance and down a few stairs to our room. It was a room with only one bed, even though I had specifically called and changed the request myself. Fortunately it was off-season and the place wasn’t really that busy, so we hopped back in the car and drove back down the hill to a beachfront two bed room with a balcony looking out over the ocean. Jackpot upgrade.
We both arrived absolutely starving, but my wallet was already feeling a little bit strained so we decided that the best thing to do was to get into our bikinis and run out to the beach to watch the sunset.
Once we’d basked in the glory of paradise until our fingers were pruney, we ventured down to the resort’s beachfront restaurant, 1748, to fill our bellies. The place couldn’t have been more romantic: candlelit, open-air seating along the ocean, with the sound of waves crashing, and four other love-drunk couples gazing into each others’ eyes as they shared desserts. We were going to need wine for this.
We both opted for a light dinner (Stephanie because she has this mysterious thing called self-control, and me because I was more concerned with getting a buzz off the wine). We took our time enjoying our minestrone and bruschetta, as the couples began to head back to their hotel rooms one by one. Before long it was 930 and we were getting glares from the waitresses. We took that as our cue to end our first day of our accidental honeymoon and head back to the room ourselves.