1 Whole Pizza Pie, because yesterday (3/14 at precisely 15 hours 9.26 minutes, or somesuch) was Pi Day. And because I think this is a hard one.
HINT: It's a Place. Or the way they assembled this hieroglyph to express the name of this Place.
In the original "Stargate" movie, the nerd Egyptologist (James Spader) finds his colleagues translating the glyphs on the Stargate using the standard English-language reference, and mutters
"Oh for Christ's sake, this is all wrong, I can't believe they're still reprinting Budge."
He's muttering about the English giant of Egyptology Sir Ernest Alfred Thompson Wallis Budge (1857 – 1934), and referring specifically to
1920. An Egyptian Hieroglyphic Dictionary, With an Index of English Words, King List and Geographical List with Index, List of Hieroglyphic Characters, Coptic and Semitic Alphabets, etc.. London: John Murry. (Reprinted New York: Dover Publications., 1978)
Budge fucked up the Stargate translation -- with Budge, You Can't Get There From Here -- but you could get lucky with Budge on this PizzaQ.
My Caribbean Island was (and still is) the Dutch-French hybrid Sint Maarten / St. Martin. We stayed on the Dutch Side, at an absolutely swell and delicious and terribly friendly beachfront hotel, Holland House, in the jumpin hot hot hot capital Philipsburg, where S.W.M.B.O. bought some bling and I purchased a lurid sleeveless Bob Marley t-shirt (but I did not buy the Rasta Hat with faux dredlocks, there are limits to what kind of Tourist Clown Outfit I will wear in public).
I do wish to complain about the beach view at Holland House. As I relaxed in the Very Bright Sun, I was trying to gaze on the sailing ships and catamarans and yachts anchored in the harbor, and the beautiful tropical mountain vistas, but hundreds of young tourist women wearing practically no clothing at all kept riding down the Boardwalk on their rented Segways and blocking my view.
A petite outbreak of violent crime had erupted on The French Side, and 20 Gendarmes had been flown in from France to neutralize this whomp-ass threat to the Tourist Trade. English tourist got stabbed in the stomach in a botched robbery at the end of our Boardwalk, but he lived. Philipsburg accomodates sometimes as many as 4 giant cruise liners and their thousands of driveby tourists each day.
Elsewhere down the Antilles, RIOTS against high food prices and a variety of Paris' broken promises and ignored petitions were breaking out in the capitals of Guadeloupe and Martinique. Our Island was just getting over an epidemic (the newspaper's word, not mine) of Dengue, which patfromch says is sometimes also called Polka Fever. (That doesn't sound good.) I drank Carib beer, pretty damn tasty. I think I also had a rum drink with a parasol in it.
In private correspondence, patfromch guessed Sint Maarten by a process of ratiocination he has explained to me, but which I can only ascribe to Magical or Jungian principles.
Our other correspondent from CH, twolegsnotail, also amazingly guessed correctly. Your Pizza Account will be Credited; and pat's Tourist Postcard from Sint Maarten is wending its way to CH.