Cheeseburger in Paradise

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Island of St. Barts, Eastern Caribbean Sea, February 24, 1998


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On a Windjammer Barefoot Cruise in the Caribbean, every day is a different island, a different adventure. Our four-masted schooner Polynesia sails by night -- this morning my wife Pam and I awake to find ourselves at the French island of St. Barts.

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Before he lets us off the ship this morning, Captain Neil gives us storytime. Fills us in on the history of St. Barts, and the local hot spots. Playground of the rich and famous. Gotta try that Cheeseburger in Paradise, he says. A bit pricey, but worth it. Just look for Le Select Bar. Can't miss it -- right on the main drag in town. The only dumpy-looking place among the high-end shops. The owners refuse to sell; tradition, you know. Jimmy Buffett was inspired to write the song right there:

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We take a launch from the Polynesia to shore with John and Sandy, our fellow crew members and bosom buddies. Only met them two days before, but you make friends quickly here. We navigate through the yachts, and step onto the dock at the town of Gustavia. The conversation immediately turns to food. John wants to eat only local cuisine. I convince him that nothing is more local than the Cheeseburger in Paradise.

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I was here 8 years previously, and have regretted ever since that I passed up the opportunity to eat the burger. As I remember, it was a bit too pricey. Came thousands of miles and lost my nerve. Opted for a picnic lunch on Shell Beach instead. More romantic that way, anyway.

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But here we are, this time determined to find that burger. We walk into town and start looking around. My memories tell me I can't miss it -- right on the main drag. But my fuzzy 8-year-old memories don't seem to match the layout of the town. Oh, well, no problem, Mon, let's do some shopping first. Into a French wine shop to get a bottle of champagne for later. The proprietor impresses us with his vintner's knowledge. I notice that Pam and Sandy are starting to be a little too impressed by his fancy French accent. I point to a bottle. So long, Jean-Claude. Gotta find that cheeseburger.

Out on the street we run into one of our shipmates, who's looking for Shell Beach. Of course I know the way; been there myself. Prettiest little beach you ever saw. With my fuzzy 8-year-old memories, I confidently send him off -- in the wrong direction.

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More back streets, more quaint shops. I look for a certain shop where we bought t-shirts 8 years ago. I know I'll recognize it when I see it. I don't see it. Pam emerges from another shop with a different t-shirt for me. A Cheeseburger in Paradise t-shirt. Souvenir of St. Barts. Which is where we are. But where is the actual burger? More walking, more shopping. No worries, no hurries here in paradise, but I admit I'm getting a bit tired, a bit hot ... and kinda hungry.

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Eventually we have encircled the town. We find ourselves at the head of the harbor, where I photograph the boats (the big photo at the top of this page), and a big anchor lying nearby. My memories are coming into focus -- I photographed this very anchor 8 years ago! During storytime this morning, Cap'n Neil told us how some Foo-foo American ship dropped it here retreating from a naval battle and never dared come back for it. Or something like that. But storytime was a long time ago, several hours now, and the details are fuzzy. Just take the picture and keep chasing the cheeseburger. I think we're getting close.

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We're in luck! Here are some crew members from the Polynesia. The cheeseburger place? Can't miss it, they say -- right on the main drag. One more block and we can hear the music blasting out, pulling us onward, and then suddenly we are there. Le Select Bar, the center of the Parrothead universe, the holy grail of ground round. A pulsing, throbbing mass of humanity spilling out onto the streets, along with the palm fronds and the smoke from the grill. We pose by the sign. Says it right there: "Cheeseburger in Paradise." As if there could be any doubt. One look at the scribbled menu and I realize why I was scared off all those years ago. The prices are in Eastern Caribbean dollars; after you convert to US dollars it's pretty reasonable, after all. We step up to the counter and place our order in reverent tones. Burgers, fries, and cold brews for all. Cheese on the burgers? Yes, please, of course. That is what we came for.

How was the burger, you ask? I really don't remember; memory is a bit fuzzy. But I do remember thinking, sitting there among all our friends, with a table full of food & drink, in the hot Caribbean sun, with a worry-free week ahead of us ... it really doesn't get any better than this.

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Late that night, after the town's Mardi Gras festivities, we wander the town's quiet back streets again, this time looking for Shell Beach. Can't miss it -- just off the main drag though town. Not worried about getting mugged or anything; people here are mellow. Still, it is reassuring that John is built like a Giant Sequoia. Kinda worried about my sense of direction, though. We take a wrong turn and end up at the ocean. Even in the darkness I can tell it isn't Shell Beach. Oh, well, no worries. We'll return some other year. For now, it's back to the ship. Tomorrow is another island, another adventure. Can't miss it.

This Windjammer Barefoot Cruise was booked by Dan Oppliger of Tropical Sails. Thanks Dan!

Update February 2025: I have learned that Le Select Bar on St. Barts was NOT the origin of the song "Cheeseburger in Paradise." On his Radio Margaritaville channel on Sirius XM, Jimmy confirmed that he was inspired to write the song at the restaurant at Village Cay Marina on Tortola in the British Virgin Islands.

Revised: February 18, 2025
Copyright © 1999-2025 Joe Orman (except lyrics by Jimmy Buffett)
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