St. Maarten: One Island, Two Countries, and One Very Unexpected Beach Day
St. Maarten is one of the few places in the world where you can have breakfast in one country and lunch in another—without ever leaving the island. Split between the Dutch side (St. Maarten) and the French side (Saint-Martin), this Caribbean gem offers two distinct cultures, cuisines, and vibes, all wrapped into 37 square miles of sunshine.
And sometimes… a surprise or two.
Two Sides of the Same Beautiful Coin
The island’s division dates back to 1648, when the French and the Dutch signed the Treaty of Concordia and agreed—peacefully—to share the land. Legend has it that each side chose a runner to mark the border, and whichever runner went farther would claim more land. Whether or not that story is true, today the Dutch side is slightly larger and known for its lively energy, nightlife, shopping, and cruise port.
The Dutch side (where cruise ships dock) is vibrant and energetic, with casinos, duty-free shopping, and bustling beach bars. The French side, by contrast, feels more relaxed and European, with charming cafés, boutique shopping, and a strong emphasis on food, wine, and long, leisurely lunches.
Both sides use different currencies, languages, and governing systems—but the border itself is invisible. You can cross it without even noticing… which is exactly how some adventures begin.
A Cruise Day Plan… or So We Thought
Picture this: a cruise ship docks in St. Maarten for the day. It’s not our first visit, so instead of staying close to the port on the Dutch side, we decide to do something different. “Let’s go to the French side,” we say confidently. “We’ve already done the Dutch side.”
So we hop in a taxi and ask the driver to take us to a beautiful beach on the French side for a relaxing day in the sun. Easy enough, right?
The taxi drops us off, we walk onto the beach, and settle in with our towels and sunscreen.
The morning air was soft, the water sparkling, and the beach gloriously quiet—We got an early start by European standards. My blond-haired 3-year-old immediately took this as his cue to claim the sand, running back and forth like a tiny, joyous whirlwind.
Slowly, other beachgoers began to appear. Europeans, no doubt, strolling with the casual confidence only Europeans seem to have. And we—obviously American, on our end of the beach.
Then I noticed her. Walking down the beach toward us. I had to do a double take. Nope, not a bikini, not a sarong, not even a strategically wrapped towel. Totally naked. From head to toe, absolutely nothing.
Yes. We had accidentally chosen a clothing-optional beach.
She sauntered past us, walking with the kind of confidence that made me want to look away, but also… not. Tan, very busty, and loving her 40 something year old self. As she should, now that I am that 40 something year old I understand that more than I did in my 20’s
My husband froze, unsure whether to avert his eyes or pretend this was perfectly normal. Our 10-year-old son nearly jumped out of his skin, his Christian school upbringing clearly failing to prepare him for this “lesson in human anatomy.”
Once she passed, we all burst into laughter. I shrugged and said, “Well, we wanted a French experience… I think we got it.” I leaned down to my 10-year-old and explained as calmly as I could, “It’s ok. We all wear a skin suit under our clothes.”
Meanwhile, the 3-year-old couldn’t have cared less. He continued darting along the sand looking like the cherub he was, blissfully oblivious to the cultural shock surrounding him, occasionally stopping to throw a handful of sand into the sparkling waves.
And just like that, our “relaxing French Caribbean beach day” became one of those stories that will never, ever leave our family lore.