We are staying in the less posh (and in my opinion, more authentic) side of St. John in a town called Coral Bay where the biggest landmark is a string of three red dumpsters where everything disposable is tossed with the exception of cans. Nothing is recycled here because, according to the local Syrian grocery store (akin to a Harlem bodega) clerk, it's too expensive. My question is why tout a pristine island and its endangered waters yet fail to take care of it? Seems ludicrous, but I am spoiled from living in the most environmentally progressive city in the states, Portland, OR, where everything is recycled, even bear fat. Across from the dumpsters, a few plastic chairs sit on the outskirts of a mangled forest where men with midnight skin quaff sugary rum under the burnout stars while a thousand sand crabs crawl in and out of their holes. There are a slew of alcoholics here - West Indians and white transplants all trying to forget.