A Tale of Two Cities: Marigot and Philipsburg

By Tom Clifford

I had the good fortune to experience a day in both Philipsburg and Marigot. Consequently, I have a tale of two cities to tell. This is not, I hasten to add, an account that would pass close scientific scrutiny and inquiry. Nor do I suggest for one moment that I have any compelling attribute that would make my findings more persuasive. These are just the initial thoughts of a traveler grateful to indulge in the island’s offerings.

The timescale of my experience also played a part. I started off in the morning in Philipsburg, fresh, enthusiastic and ready as it were for battle. I finished exhausted on the French side. But I was revived in a seafront bakery with coffee and a delicious fruit tart. Will this influence my reporting? Bien sur.

The imposing presence of Fort-Louis, on a hill top, overlooks Marigot. Keeping its distance but nonetheless reassuring, it seems to give history’s approval.

It was established in the late 18th century to protect Marigot from marauders. I have an admission to make. I have yet to climb the hill. I will, one day, but on this particular day I admired the fort and the fluttering and reassuring tricolour from afar while sitting in a cafe and resting my aching legs. The fort, I was told, is the largest historic site on the island and intriguingly its plans, according to legend, were sent direct from Versailles by Louis XVI before matters domestic saw him lose his head.

There is a certain je ne sais quoi about Marigot. It has an attitude and that attitude is, unapologetically, to relax. It is sure of its appeal. It asks nothing of the visitor except to admire it and exudes a confidence that comes from an assurance of purpose. A stroll along its streets will play havoc with your senses as sights and smells of delicious food vie for your attention. They know it, you know it, enough said.

The buses are more chatty on the French side. Passengers are less inhibited to discuss issues of the day and opinions are offered in a forceful but charming manner.

In that sense Philipsburg is different. Its bus passengers tend to keep to themselves but both adhere to an etiquette of politeness.

Philipsburg has more of a commercial feel. It is not targeting your soul but your credit card. It is home to the bustling and picturesque setting of Juliana Airport and that helps define its character. As does the Parliament nestled in an alleyway above a clothing shop. Politics is essentially another form of business.

And how could a first-time visitor not be impressed by a town that has a Front Street and Back Street. Their names represent a compelling marriage of definition and intelligence.

French, to my admittedly untrained ear, is spoken more up north than Dutch is spoken down south. But be it bievenue or welkom both will reward a visitor with a day intertwined with commerce and conversation.