MARIGOT, St. Martin — There are some 7,000 islands in the Caribbean, arcing south-southeast from below Florida to near the coast of Venezuela. Many are islets and uninhabited reefs, but that still leaves quite a choice.

We have visited some — St. Thomas, Nassau in the Bahamas, Curacao among them and had no complaints with any. But we have settled most assuredly on St. Martin/St. Maarten, coming back some six or seven times.

It is an unusual, if not unique place. A small, 37-square-mile island, it is half French-owned, part of the French West Indies, and half Dutch territory, listed among the Netherlands Antilles. But there is no real border; it is much like driving through the Holland Tunnel, where you have to be alert to the sign marking the change between New York and New Jersey.

The economy of the island, discovered by Columbus in 1493, used to be based on salt production. But all that is gone today and tourism is the main source of income.

The Dutch side is the busier. It has Princess Juliana International Airport, recently re-done and opened with a spanking-new terminal in November 2006. It is here, too, in the Dutch-side capital of Philipsburg, where the cruise ships dock at a newly constructed harbor and the shops are generally crowded with tourists. Construction has boomed in the last five or 10 years, with new hotels, condominiums and casinos.

The French side is quieter and it is there that we have found winter respite. Speaking French, or the native Creole dialect, is not necessary. Euros or dollars. French or English. All are accepted with no loss of friendliness on "The Friendly Island."

Most of the visitors are French, enjoying their country's generous vacation time, much of it in December. But many are Canadians or Americans, escaping, too, from the northern cold.

Neil and Cordelia Goldstein, my brother and sister-in-law from Silver Spring, Md., came back again, too, our companions for a second time.

They joined us on that first day, after breakfast on the terrace, at one of the two pools at our hotel, Le Flamboyant, in an area known as Nettle Bay, or Baie Nettle, on the northwestern part of the island.

I watched from a pool chaise as some took part in the hotel's organized aqua exercises and read about the typical water sports available in virtually all of the Caribbean resorts: snorkeling, water-skiing, pedal-boating and such.

We rented a car and drove through the French-side capital of Marigot toward the Atlantic Ocean in the east to Grand Case village for lunch.

And herein lies the attraction that we feel sets St. Martin apart: the food. French cooking in a tropical setting. La vie en rose.

At Le Tastevin, we ate "en bord de la mer," at the edge of the sea.

An Acapulco salad included lobster with mixed greens, sliced avocado and grilled shrimp. Chicken breast over mixed greens with slices of bleu cheese. Or swordfish or mahi-mahi. All, of course, with wine. After lunch, to walk it all off, we hiked up Pic Paradis, at 1,392 feet, the highest point on the island.

Of course, there's much more to do for those who desire "doing." There's the shopping, of course, de rigueur in all these islands.

On our agenda was a 20-minute ferry to Anguilla for a day trip. (Don't forget your passport.) Similar trips are available to St. Barthelemy or Saba.

But we never made it.

Maybe next year.