A homeland treasure

The Colonial hipped roofs and wrought iron verandahs become outright majestic as you head east to Kongens Gade, the heart of the historic district. The wedding cake-white Government House holds oils of French Impressionist Camille Pissarro, a native son. For a true StairMaster experience, climb the “99 steps,’’ or any of the stepped streets, to more exemplary facades and house museums. On the way down, find 5040 Norre Gade ste-2, which houses Zora of St. Thomas (who is originally from Missouri). The shop of enterprising women crafts leather sandals fitted to your feet, and also makes glass jewelry and canvas packs and bags.

When in St. Thomas, Water Islanders do lunch. (The last ferry leaves Crown Bay at 6 p.m.) If the line outside Gladys’s Café in Royal Dane Mall looks daunting, walk a block to Cuzzin’s on Back Street for honest Caribbean fare. West on Veterans Drive, I took a table facing the aqua sea at Michael and Judy Watson’s Petite Pump Room. My stewed chicken with fungi, a polenta-like side made with cornmeal and okra, arrived with their signature hot sauce packed with red and green Scotch Bonnet peppers. The Watsons also make their own tropical ice cream; try the soursop.

A left onto Rue de St. Barthélemy, and you’re in Frenchtown, settled in the 1800s by immigrants from St. Barts. From its toenail of a harbor, small fishing boats still ply the local waters, selling their catch at Quetel Fish Market. A homespun Eiffel Tower made of Styrofoam marks the French Heritage Museum, where docent Pierre “Pete’’ Ledee lovingly led us among old photos of the settlement’s first families, their handmade fish nets, and French lace. Inside a chocolate-colored Creole house, you’ll find Craig and Sally Darash, who came here by way of Connecticut, serving artful tapas with a Manhattan-grade wine cellar to match. But the true ambassadors of this special neighborhood can usually be found on the porch of La Petite Fenêtre (The Little Window), a bar whose legendary window dispensed rum to its fisherman patrons of old.

When I reached Crown Bay Marina, Mancino was at Tickles finishing a plate of buffalo wings. The bartender, Lindy Ebol, asked if I wanted a diet soda - already she knew my drink. Nowak was there, too, ordering an after-work piña colada for the commute home to Water Island. A loose line began forming, everyone talking about water filtration systems and composters. Looking around at their sun-bronzed faces, I realized that after only a few days I knew them all, and they, me.

As the Water Island ferry chugged up Gregerie Channel, something popped into my head that I’d once seen on a restaurant placemat: “You’re a stranger here but once.’’

Patricia Borns can be reached at patriciaborns@comcast.net.