Barbadian De-compression

February 11, 2016August 25, 2019 | By Wayne Ng

We’re not beach people. Trish and I find beach culture monotonous. Getting sauted in the sun whilst under-sized speedos on oversized bellies strut around isn’t exactly the height of culture. Just recently I skipped el cheapo beach destinations in Malaysia, Thailand, Myanmar and India. So why go to Barbados? Well if you’re asking, you don’t live in Ottawa over the winter. Besides we have Mel (aka Old Spice) a buddy down there so free digs, yippee! And yes, after 4 plus months of travel I needed a bonafide vacation.

Barbados was once inhabited by Amerindians whom the Spaniards called Caribs, hence the term Caribbean. Raise your hands if you knew that, we sure didn’t. Anyway the Spaniards had a hand in wiping out the native population in much of the Caribbean, leaving Barbados largely uninhabited until the English colonized it in 1625. For a while more English lived in the West Indies than the Americas.

Then they discovered how wonderful Barbadian sugar cane was. But who was going to work those sugar plantations? Slaves from Africa of course, ya silly. Then they figured you could do more than just sugar with the those towering canes, and we don’t mean molasses, that’s boring. How about a rum and coke? Pretty soon Mount Gay, the world’s oldest (legal) rum distillery started up.

Trish was first in line at Mount Gay for the 4 itty bitty samples included in the $10 USD tour.

It seems nobody moves without a rum-based drink nearby. The locals say there are as many churches as there are rum shacks —think combo of divey pub and liquor store (1500 shacks).

But most of the half million plus tourists come for the beaches, all of which are free and public:

Crane Beach, south east coast

Accra Beach, south coast

Miami Beach, south coast

Bathsheba, Atlantic/east coast also a primo surf spot

Martin’s Bay, east coast

Crane

Caribbean/west coast

Our big splash out touristy day ($105 US each) was catamaraning and snorkelling around Hawksbill turtles and a shipwreck. A dozen pasty white cruisers on a day excursion joined us.

Each of the 11 parishes or regions centres around a church. St John’s is a gem on a cliff sided with lush forests and a beautiful cemetery.

And a rooster who guards the front.

So who are these ladies?
Well dearest Mel (beside Trish) is a native Barbadian (Bajan if you’re feeling lazy) living in a veritable mansion, and mom to Andrea, a buddy in Kanata.

Mel and her network would show us around the tiny island (smaller than Metro Toronto) but more importantly immerse us in their highly community and family-oriented lives.

Annette (in the middle) is one of the kindest women around, and Wendy (white top) is a suppository of all things known to and about Barbados.

Barbados smells of money, most of it white.
We posed as potential buyers ( I can talk white) in a couple of private resort and residences.
This slum started at $2.5 mill US, plus mooring fees

Mel and Annette playing a couple of snooty, condo hunting Bajan belles

Architecturally speaking you can count on many Caribbean and Latin American places to be dominated by Spanish colonial influences. Not here however as Barbados may be the only colony to not change hands as the English hung onto it right up until the peaceful independence of 1966.
Nevertheless, a couple of decent looking buildings are worth poking around.

Downtown Bridgetown is only minutes from the beaches and high end shops and resorts but nary a pale face other than Trish can be found.

Which made us wonder. In just about every country we travelled (except Iceland) since August, an under current of racial tension could be felt. You’d think this would be no different. 280,000 locals—–92% black, a healthy smattering of holdover Brits from colonial days sitting in big houses, white folk buying up choice property, drunken Englishmen, a murder rate 7X Ottawa’s (which is pretty low to begin with).

But no. Not a peep of complaining or bitching about dem foreigners and pale or Asian faces. They accept tourism as the backbone of the economy. And unlike Cuba, the Dominican Republic, etc…the relative absence of large, all inclusive resorts and hotels means many tourist dollars trickle down, and beaches and retail activity are shared between and amongst locals and tourists.

But before you jump on a direct flight from Toronto, Miami, or NY, beforewarned, this local, authentic experience is costly. A single day small car, A/C rental can be $100-160 US. Ouch. Thank Goodness for Mel, Annette and the greenthumbed, pie baking extraordinaire, Carol.

The local fare is seafood heavy and the stars are flying fish (below—also a joy to ‘flying’ over the water) and dolphin (aka mahi mahi).

Mel cooked up a storm of flying fish one night… seasoned with lime, salt and her own own sauce, then rolled in flour and fried…lip smacking good.

Doubles (2 pieces of flat fired bread wrapped around channa masala) may be more Trinidadian in origin but it’s widely consumed here.

Bake Salt Fish (thicker piece of bread slit open like a pita and stuffed with salt fish fried up with tomatoes, onions, spices, herbs)

A tad more adventurous is the pudding and sous, a Saturday mainstay.

The yellow, potato looking thing is actually bread fruit and was quite good.

The dark, sausage like pudding is steamed and seasoned sweet potato stuffed in…pig intestines. Think haggis and you’ll be alright.

The sous is traditionally pickled pig’s head and feet. Trish took one look at this and headed for leftovers. The leaner cuts actually went down pretty good with Mel’s home-made scotch bonnet and mustard hot sauce.

Now that we’re home for good (for now), our tans will quickly fade and photos will have to sustain us while we plot our next move. Long term it will mean an extended stay in Japan, and as much as India almost broke me, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Trish already knows what that means.

Barbados was a rum and sun soaked playground and a figurative distance from Asia, the highlights of this long run. But it was completely stress free as we no longer had to fret about transpo, accomodations, sanitation, getting scammed….And for 16 warm days we basked in Mel’s exceptional local hospitality, kindness and circle of friends and family. In a travel where we met so many exceptional people, stayed with so many generous hosts, she was a fitting finale.

Trish is happy to be home again. I could be elsewhere, even on a beach watching under-size speedos wrapped around over-sized bellies…

Next: Back to work while Trish and her mom cruise the Mediterranean in May/June, bitches.