The rain is just starting to fall as Clara Reyes and I begin meeting, so we duck into a covered cabana at Seaview Beach Hotel in Philipsburg, the capital of the Dutch side of Sint Maarten. Sitting on white couches, we smile at each other, two strangers sizing each other up. Clara is the Director of Sint Maarten’s Department of Culture, here giving a random writer an hour of her time to talk about what it means to be a St. Martiner. Wearing beautiful – handmade – colorful clothing, she embodies an island style, carrying herself with a grace and dignity that is intimidating at the start.

My plan is to talk to her about capital-c-Culture, things like music, poetry, and dance, areas she is probably the leading expert of in the world. Instead, the conversation goes in a very different direction. Over the course of an hour, we talk about what it means to be a person on this island, and what it means to be a visitor here. We talk about diversity, about community, about friendliness, and about love. We talk about family, about our lives, and about our hopes for the future.

It is beyond anything I could have possibly expected before coming to St. Martin (S’Martin, Clara says, almost in a Boston accent). But it is incredibly characteristic of what I have found here in my week exploring both the Sint Maarten and Saint-Martin sides of the world’s smallest divided landmass.

Clara tells me that there are two types of people here: those who are born here, and those who are born to be here. That is a powerful statement of acceptance, one that values the immigrant at the same level as the native. And immigrants there are here on St. Martin, with, according to Clara, 115 registered nationalities on the Dutch side alone. They come from everywhere, and during my time here I meet people from all over the world, all who choose to be here on this island, working to make it the amazing place it is.

And this attitude of acceptance is felt. You cannot help but to feel it. For this island of St. Martin, it is an indelible part of what it means to simply be. This is known as the Friendly Island. And while that lofty statement is probably made elsewhere as well, here they really mean it and live up to it.

***

The day is hot on the French side Saint-Martin as I pull up to a former plantation house, now dilapidated, that hosts the island’s top museum next door. Amuseum Naturalis celebrates all that is St. Martin, with focuses on its unique history, endemic plants and animals, and natural beauty. It is free to enter, putting its mission of education above any aspects of finance.

Mark shows me around. He and his partner started this museum, and run it as volunteers in their free time. When they moved to St. Martin from the United States, they fell in love with the place and its people, but found that children, especially those here on the French side, didn’t have the same love and appreciation for their home. History studied in school was French, not local. Even the fact that schooling was done in the French language was hard, since English is the primary home language for the majority of islanders.

This museum attempts to change that, with its primary focus being to educate school-aged kids about the amazing island they call home. Mark and his partner do so via the physical space – which attracts significantly more locals than tourists like me – and through a book program, mailing multi-language books to all children on both sides of the island. These explore aspects of nature and culture, of history and of community.

Mark wasn’t born here. He was, as Clara would say, born to be here. He has dedicated his life to bettering his community, becoming so intertwined with the fabric of this place that he speaks of it as though he has been here his entire life. But he is only one of so many who do this, who choose this place and then live up to the ideals it espouses. A smile, a hug, a handshake… he offers all three, seeing me for who I am and offering his most authentic self in return. Friendship is born of less.

Clara tells me that this is what it truly means to be a St. Martiner. It is a desire to see and to be seen, an offering of kindness and friendship as not just a part of meeting, but as a prerequisite for a meeting. It is a universal process of pre-approval, and it is a glorious feeling to be part of that.

***

“Toronto, right?” A voice calls from behind me as I step onto the sand at Simpson Bay to watch my favorite sunset on the Dutch side of Sint Maarten. I turn, remembering that when traveling, A and I tend to tell people we are from her home of Toronto rather than from the US, especially now. A smile as wide as the sandy beach greets me.

Sam is originally from Grenada, but has been here on St. Martin for a while. I met him this morning at the Seaview Beach Hotel. Sam works there, helping tourists find their perfect beach chair and umbrella, and we had a five minute conversation as I sipped my coffee prior to the rush of cruise ship passengers.

“Please, I want you to meet my wife and my son,” he says now to me. His wife is a schoolteacher originally from the Netherlands, and their son laughs on a playground a few feet away. (He gives me a fist bump in greeting, the same huge smile of his father evident beneath curls to die for.) Over the next half hour, we talk about life, about education, about us. We swap stories, hopes, fears.

As we give hugs goodbye, the brightness of sunset fading to dusk, it occurs to me: this isn’t normal. Well, it isn’t normal most places. I met this man under totally different circumstances for a mere few minutes. He remembered me, remembered my story, and greeted me as a friend. A warm smile, an embrace, two people connecting as humans, as individuals desiring to see and to be seen. It may not be normal elsewhere, but here, it just makes sense.

This is, after all, the Friendly Island. Clara speaks of the attitude of jollification, as a building of the concept of home. I can think of no aspect of culture more wonderful.

It is impossible for me to share just how common these incredibly intimate experiences are here. From Claire, a server at Grand Case Beach Club, sharing her story of coming here from France a little over a year ago and her fears at the daunting task of learning English, to Sunil, a Hong Kong native who operates Dutch Blonde – a restaurant serving the best Dutch pancakes I’ve had outside Amsterdam – opening up to me about his yet-to-open speakeasy he has dreamt of, the conversations I have are deep, they are intense, and they are almost immediate. People here, whether they were born here or born to be here, are infected with that spirit of warmth and acceptance.

I could go on and on. From those in tourist-facing professions like Rosin, from Finland, who helps run the Philipsburg-based Adventure Race, to Kai, a medical student who has been here most of his life, to everyone in between, friendliness is universal. I truly believe that if those who live here wore shirts identifying themselves as locals, I could walk up to each and introduce myself with a hug – and I’d be embraced in turn. I’d be accepted as Jonathan, as a person worthy of knowing and loving, as a human seen.

***

The rain hasn’t let up, but the way I am smiling, it might as well be the sunniest day yet here on St. Martin. Clara and I have gone from strangers to friends. I’ve seen photos of her family; she has heard stories of my relatives. “What do you want Americans visiting Sint Maarten and Saint-Martin to know?” I ask.

“See me,” she says after a moment’s pause. “See me as a person. Respect me. Greet me. And I will see you, respect you, welcome you. That is what it means to be from S’Martin.”

And I do. And she does. And so, too, does everyone else I meet on this magical Friendly Island.

And I feel at home. You will, too.

To all of those who I had the immense pleasure to interact with while on the island, thank you. To those who appeared in this story, your warmth has been a huge part of what made this trip so memorable. To those who didn’t, know your friendship is no less appreciated; I just didn’t have room to write about the countless people who touched me is such an intense emotional way. A special thank you to Visit St. Maarten/St. Martin for bringing me to this incredible place you call home.

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