Unexpected Companions in Paradise

A secluded white sand beach leading to a stretch of turquoise waters, the view to the sea floor interrupted only by the colorful tropical fish and coral, a horizon dotted with lush green peaks stretching into an expanse of blue sky. When I hear the word "paradise" this is exactly what I picture.

Two years ago, my husband and I vacationed at the luxurious Caneel Bay resort in St. John. Upon disembarking at the St. Thomas airport, a friendly woman with a broad smile offered me a sampling of the local rum. A scenic 20-minute boat ride led us to the resort, and after dropping off our bags in our gorgeous room, we immediately headed for the beach.

It was truly heaven on earth. The local rum, tropical breeze and sound of the surf lulled me into a light slumber, when I was abruptly awakened by, "eeeeeeee-awwwwwww."

I jerked awake, startled.

"Eeeeeeeee-awwwwwww. EEEE-AWWWW!"

A glance over my left shoulder confirmed that this awful sound was in fact, coming from the mouth of a donkey.

It was one of those jarring moments where something just didn't fit--like seeing your first grade teacher out at a bar on a Friday night--and I struggled to get my bearings.

I later learned that dozens of donkeys--descendants of those brought to work at the island's now defunct sugar mills--roam the island, and not surprisingly, they are particularly fond of Caneel Bay.

Lesson of the trip: Even in paradise, it's possible to be surrounded by asses.