During the aircraft’s final approach to Grantly Adams International Airport, it was clear to see below us the turquoise blue sea, the white powder sand, the palm trees and the chattel houses lining the narrow roads. What a perfect image of the REAL Barbados; and pretty soon our task will be to connect with some real Bajan people and experience the way of life on the island rather than the enclaves of the all inclusive resorts…
We touched down at Bridgetown just as the sun was setting, and decided to hit the ground running and explore the capital of Barbados in-depth as night drew on. “’Sup, big man” was the greeting offered to us from a tall and imposing guy on the main street, and he went on “Is there anything I can get you?” Now that was kind, wasn’t it? He gave us the creeps but ’m sure he was just in need a little extra cash or a cigar. Within seconds we were fighting off offers from taxi drivers and well meaning chaps who offered us all manner of diversions and entertainments. But this wasn’t quite what we had in mind. But one thing was very refreshing: here there was no hard-sell, no obvious hassling or hustling; it’s all completely laid-back, chilled out and matter-of-fact. We located a great little row of rum stalls, doing a slow trade with just a few languid hangers-on, but two Polish guys were enjoying the local lager of the island, ‘Banks’ and seemed intent on finding a party. They wondered if we could help them, and the offer of a bottle of Banks seemed like quite a good idea under the circumstances. So we learned that Arek and Daniel were engineer cadets on a large cargo ship bound for Grenada.
Luckily for us another Bajan man had previously directed us to a party that was located just around the corner, down a side street which had a few people walking and cycling, and the occasional loner sitting on an empty plastic beer crate, dwelling on times past. A pool table caught the eye of Arek and so we ended up having a round of that before trundling away in search of the Heineken Bar that was apparently close by, according to the Polish men. They were pretty merry so to say, so I guess they can be forgiven for dragging us far to the outskirts of town to bar that didn’t exist. In fact, had it not been for this wild goose chase, we would never have stumbled upon a tiny, wooden shack that sold fish by day and beer by night, complete with two local Barbadians to pass some time with. The Polish guys didn’t seem to want to stay and hang so they wandered off into the distance in the search of another bar.
Meanwhile, we were invited to pull up one of the metal chairs each and exchange stories of our past trips with one of the Bajan guys who was casually sipping on a beer. This man had certainly been places! He was born in Barbados, but lived in the Bahamas, Canada and France, where he practised and sold his impressive artwork. He used to play football, but these days I think he prefers to chill, since experiencing the agony of a dislocated shoulder and another injury to the collarbone. He mentioned that when in France, the pain returns to where he was injured and stays, but when in Barbados or elsewhere in the Caribbean, the pain magically disappears. Maybe it’s a sign that Barbados is his true home and it’s where he’s meant to be.
The next morning, we headed straight into town to catch a glimpse of Bridgetown by day before checking out some of Barbados’ coastline. We followed some routes along the busy coastal roads, but crossing the roads was no hard task as every driver was so polite that they stopped in their tracks just to facilitate us in traversing the street. We found ourselves strolling along a beach where we found many weird and wonderful things, from sapphire blue and turquoise waters to a sand-smothered motor boat that seemed to have made some sort of emergency crash landing on the shore… Photo opportunity!
As we continued in our strides we noticed that this strip of beach was coming to an end and so we had to return to the road for a short while before getting back to some sand and sea. This section of beach wasn’t so large either and before we knew it we found ourselves scaling the historic walls of a characteristic fortress complete with rusty cannons. Perhaps we were following in the footsteps of pirates some 300 years before? Climbing up over the fence to where the cannons were was definitely our best and only option, since we were approaching a sharp cliff. Little did we know that by this time we had successfully trespassed into the Hilton Hotel’s swimming pool complex and their private beach. I must admit that I had started to feel a little guilty, but the sheer bliss of the beach took me to a whole new level! We stopped for a refreshing dip in the sea after walking a little further in the fine, talcum powder sand.
On the way back to base, it suddenly became compulsory to taste a ‘roti’, this being a mild chicken and potato curry all wrapped in a chapatti. It was really tasty, but it’s in Barbados, so we won’t be stopping there for a while.
This first Island-hop is slowly getting us used to the tropical heat, and it’s almost impossible to remember that cold winter that we just came from. Right now, some of that cold weather would be welcome, I say as drops of sweat from my forehead pounds the keyboard in front of me!
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