In the never-ending search for the world's most perfect beach, we decided to visit a tiny island called Anguilla ("The Eel" - it's kind of eel-shaped) in the Caribbean. Anguilla fit all of our requirements - small, relatively untouched by tourism, little crime, and many beautiful white sand beaches. Anguilla is part of the British West Indies, and the people are reserved, but not unfriendly, and the economy is stable. The main industry there is power boat building. The Anguillans specialize in making the types of speedy boats that cut through the waves like a knife through butter, and you will frequently see posters announcing boat races.

We managed to avail ourselves of most of the major forms of transportation in our long trip. First, we caught a flight out of San Francisco, changing planes in Miami for the relatively short hop to St. Maarten/St. Martin, a small island dually owned by the French and Dutch, which offered the closest airport to Anguilla. We deplaned in St. Maarten (the Dutch side), and took a taxi over to the other side of the island (St. Marrtin - the French side) to the ferry port. After a light lunch, we took a ferry over the choppy waters to Anguilla. After breathing a premature sigh of relief, we realized that we had to somehow get to the east side of the island where our hotel, Shoal Bay Villas, was located. So we caught another taxi for the half hour ride over bumpy roads to the east side of the island. By the time we arrived, we must've looked frazzled because the owner of the hotel greeted us, and immediately invited us to the beach bar for a drink while our luggage was taken to our room. That was the best idea we'd heard all day!

After sucking down a couple rum punches and gazing at the aquamarine water and fine, white sand, we made our way to our room. The room was very nice and clean with a kitchenette (ha! - like we were going to cook!), bathroom, king bed, and sitting area, complete with bookshelves stacked with paperbacks left by previous travellers. Life was good. Even though there was no air conditioning, (ceiling fan only), the room was a great deal at $125/night (off-season rates).

Mostly, we sunned and swam while on Anguilla. The hotel had a small pool big enough to do laps in, and the water was warm and crystal clear, so we took advantage of both. Snorkelling was incredible, too.

Highlights of the trip included:

Dinner at Millie's Crossroads Restaurant (located at the crossroads in the middle of the island). We had the treat of spending an evening getting to know Millie, a well-travelled woman from Curacao who kept us spellbound with her stories. ( Like the one about Chuck Norris leaving his wife for an Anguillan girl...) Millie cooked us up a feast to die for. I had fresh caught fish with all the trimmings, and Bill had ribs with her special island sauce. We talked with Millie into the night, and met several of the locals who stopped in for a beer or two.

Another adventure I'd highly recommend was our venture to a place called Scilly Cay (pronounced "Silly Key"), a l ittle speck of an island off the coast of Anguilla. We took a short boatride to the island, and plopped ourselves down on chaise lounges with the water lapping at our feet. After putting down a couple sizable rum punches, we were getting hungry, and so we ordered the Scilly Cay special - fresh lobster. I've never seen a lobster as huge as the ones we had that day. They were over a pound and a half each easily, served in the shell accompanied with a divine curry-based sauce. Each plate was about $35, but it was more than worth it. After we'd let the meal settle a bit, we snorkelled around the tiny island, which was surrounded with huge, pink conch shells. Nirvana!

One of the people we met at Millie's, recommended that we get ourselves to "The Rasta Shack" as soon as we could to meet his friend, Isley, and check out some of his wares. So we rented a 4-wheel drive and drove over to the other side of the island, looking for the place. We drove around and around, and finally stopped and asked a guy walking on the side of the road where the Rasta Shack was. He stopped and pointed to a large green, red, and black striped building. Well, duh. We spent an aromatic afternoon with Isley, and ended up buying one of his CD's (he was in a reggae band with Diamond, the guy we'd met at Millie's).

One day we drove over to Cap Juluca, a very ritzy resort on a gorgeous pristine beach. We had drinks on the terrace overlooking the ocean, and pretended to be rich. Robin Leach - eat your heart out!