8 posts tagged “barbados”
You know, I think the less said about yesterday's snorkel trip, the better. There seems to be an endless supply of rum drinks (coconut rum and coke, rum and pineapple, rum and fruit punch ... ) and as soon as you down one, another is thrust in your hand.
Instead, please meet the very friendly Danish/British twins, Mel and Kristina. Oh my. All my weaknesses in one trip. First Kristina, then Mel and her boyfriend Adam.
- Surfing Waves: There is a reason why the beach near me is called Surfer's Point. The waves can get quite big and can be fun to play in.
- Undertow: Every action has its opposite and equal reaction. Hence the big scrape on my leg from getting dragged around against some rocks yesterday, in my rum-soaked, post-catamaran state.
- Hat: When working on my laptop outdoors in the tropics, I need a hat with a brim the blocks the light so I can see the screen. Hardship, I know ... but I have endured.
- Solo Travel: Not only is it possible for me to travel comfortably on my own, I quite enjoy it. This does not mean that I will never travel with others. It does mean that I may have stumbled upon a new, and quite expensive, hobby.
- Alcohol: The ratio of "rum intake : inebriation" alters significantly when one has lost 45 (now 40, I'm sure) lbs. It takes a lot less to do a lot more.
- Wired World ... Small World: I enjoy staying connected with friends via the Internet. This has increased the fun of this trip.
- Duty-Free: Even though I spent part of the day stumbling through Bridgetown with a goofy little drunken smile on my face, I did not find anything tempting enough to buy. There are baubles and watches aplenty. Perfume and alcohol. Even when quite rummed up, I still have to ask the question, "How much does one really have to spend on knowing what time it is?" I'm not sure knowing the time is one of my top priorities anymore. (I may yet need to sober up further ... ask me tomorrow ...)
- Not Long Enough: One week isn't long enough. Either that, or I'm visualizing 10 ft piles of melting snow in Toronto and not feeling that keen on wading through icy, dirty gutters.
- South Coast: The south coast of Barbados is infinitely cheaper yet just as beautiful as the more chi chi west coast.
- Boat = Happiness: Not much makes me happier than spending part of a day on a boat.
Update: Crazy Bus sneaky video added at the end of this post. :-) 3:23 p.m. EDT
More pictures to follow after today, I think. If all goes according to plan, I'll be visiting The Graeme Hall Nature Sanctuary and going snorkeling in Carlisle Bay. Actually, we just called the snorkel place and he isn't sure he is going out today since no one else has called yet to book on the 2:00 p.m. trip.
I don't understand this. I'm enjoying the island isolation, and of course there are handfuls of people scattered about ... but none of the thundering herds that I've experienced in other tropical locales.
Some snippets from the last few days ...
He Is My Daddy-O: Beside the now infamous Buffy's Bar, before the field, is a church. One of those big assembly style churches that you know is just hopping on Sundays. It was on my route on Sunday and I was keen to see what was going on there. I could hear the proceedings from the breakfast nook here at the B&B and the music got louder and louder as I got closer. A full band, including steel drums, was rocking the joint and everyone was inside, dressed in their best, rocking away as well. It looked more like a party than a worship service although one has to wonder whether a party is really a more appropriate style of celebration than the dour old services I was raised with. The chorus of the song that was being sung, at length, sounded something like "He is my Daddy-O ... yeah ... He is my Daddy-O ... Christ is my Daddy-O ..." Again, not a sentiment I am familiar with but I'm sure their god appreciates the intensity of the belief. :-)
Travel Book: It is clear that I am establishing a pattern of reading on vacation. I also seem to be establishing a pattern of reading wizzy's books on vacation as I am now picking my way through this. Clearly, this means that before she and her partner move out west, I must be kept in a supply of travel books else I simply cannot go on vacation.
Kindness: I'm not really a very experienced traveler. I'd like to be, but I am not ... yet. I revel in the kindness of strangers - the willingness to share information, directions, recommendations. I think about the times when I've been stopped on the street in Toronto and asked a question by a traveler and it always feels good to help. I assume, then, that it feels good to others when they help me. On Sunday, I made my way past the rocking and rolling church to Round Rock Restaurant. Turns out the owner had just sent his staff home for the day. Nothing happening for Sunday dinner, therefore. What to do? I wandered over to Silver Sands beach and spotted two women whom I assumed were tourists (one makes such assumptions based on skin colour, sadly). Turns out they are both transplanted Brits who live here, lucky sods. They both had cars and were spending the day on the nearly deserted beach with their sons, but just getting ready to head home. One of them was more than keen to give me a lift directly to the restaurant area called St. Lawrence Gap. She also drove slowly up the Gap (street) and gave me a mini-review of each place. So, I went quickly from no options for dinner to multiple options for dinner, through the kindness - nay enthusiasm - of a stranger. Nice.
ZR #11: This is the official name for what I am calling the Crazy Bus, the minivan that takes passengers anywhere along the south coast, looping back to Bridgetown at some point. It reminds me of the bus in Harry Potter that rattles and bangs and appears out of the blue, screeching to a halt and then taking you wherever you name. Except most of these have loud Carribean music blaring, and they do manage to stay on the road rather than flying through the air. So far, any way.
Wake up.
Kick butt, or have butt kicked, at Scrabulous.
Yawn. Blink. Stretch. (Other personal details not required.)
Walk to ocean. Jump in. Well, wade in actually.
Sit on beach. Look at water. Jump/wade in again.
Walk back to house. Be served breakfast that includes fresh herbs, tomatoes, home-baked bread*, locally grown fruit including bananas, papaya, pineapple, citrus.
Consider options. Perhaps work.
Later ... nap.
*OK - about this bread problem ... I'm not supposed to eat bread. Bread bad ... diet good. Geri bakes bread, lots of it. For her guests. This is a problem. This a.m., finally, I succumbed. I now have to walk to Bridgetown in penance.
I can't believe there are so few people here. Not that I'm complaining ... OK ... this entry will have additional text later. But the ocean beckons. For now, I will toss these photos up for perusal.
Through the field: This seems to be a common theme when giving directions from here to anywhere.
Me: How do I get to the bus stop for the bus that goes into town?
Geri: Walk to the end of this road, see there? OK, cross the road, go past Buffy's Bar, the church and the rum shop. Follow the path through the field to the next road and the bus stop is right there.
OK ... later, on the "bus" back from town, after dark ... I think this is what the driver's assistant said to the driver ...
Hey, mon, she tink she wanna get off at Buffy's Bar so you gonna take da left troo da field. The field, mon ... yeah, you go dere ...
The "bus" then actually veered off, literally, through a field, or meadow more like. No road. Lots of bumps. Eventually, an actual road appeared and moments later there we were, Buffy's Bar. Troo da field.
Later ... I want to get to a small oceanside restaurant the guy from Sault Ste. Marie told me about.
Me: So, I heard about this restaurant called Round Rock, or something?
Geri: Yes ... that isn't far. Go back to Buffy's Bar but turn left this time. Walk to the end of that road, then turn right. The street isn't very long and then you have to walk through the field, veer off to the left towards the ocean. When you get to the road, walk towards the sea. Turn right and Round Rock is right there.
I'm starting to think that all good things are on the other side of the field.
Woman's Bay: According to the map, on International Women's Day, I inadvertently swam in Woman's Bay. You can zoom in a bit on that map. No signage to speak of to confirm this, but according to the map, that is where I was. :-)
Where is everybody?: There is a surprising lack of commercialism where I am, on the south side of Barbados. This is the least touristy part, for which I am profoundly grateful. Signage is discreet and you really have to look for it. Well-kept suburban homes where locals live are right here beside where painfully bleached white folk like me make their way down to the water, so I guess big billboards and flashing lights wouldn't do. When I went into Oistins for the first time, the sight of a KFC on the main street seemed quite jarring given the amount of bustling local business everywhere. Hope it stays this way. Delightful not have advertising shouting at me from everywhere.
Sand: I could rhapsodize at length about the quality of the sand here. Someone told me about this prior to my leaving Toronto. It is fine like talcum powder and feels extraordinarily soft on the feet. I've never experienced sand like this. Let's see ... I've been on beaches off Lakes Huron, Erie and Ontario, Florida, San Andres, Hawaii, Mexico, Denmark and Sweden. This sand is unlike them all. Amazing ... addictive.
Water: The waves are churned up pretty good and the water is, I'm told, lacking in its usual clarity. Coulda fooled me - look amazing to me. It is warm and I'm having very little trouble getting in it. This part will be of interest to anyone who has tried to go swimming with me and knows how painfully long it takes for me to get the water. Not so much trouble here. :-)
Warm, not "hot", not humid, thank goodness. Windy, apparently more so than usual.
I will eat more fish here than I do at home, by a long shot. Marlin, mahi mahi, flying fish ... I had flying fish for dinner last night. Speaking of which, my diet is about to go completely off the rails ... one of my hosts, Geri, bakes her own bread for breakfast. Lord. On the upside, she also grows her own bananas, vegetables and herbs. She also makes great coffee. Her husband, Steve, develops music software, Mac platform. He has his own electronic music studio which I have been promised a tour of. Apparently, they don't get many musical guests here ... I may make up for this. I wish I had brought my guitar. (Note to BH: Have I just found heaven or what?!? You and A and Jr must come here ... )
Another reason my diet is about to go completely off the rails. The island specialty side dish is (drumroll) macaroni pie. I'm not kidding. Baked macaroni with cheese, almost exactly like my Mom used to make (not kidding about that either) except when they boil the macaroni, they put "island spices" in the water. Whoa.
There is a green hummingbird who is fond of visiting the flowers right in front of me as I sit here. There is also a tiny black and white striped fellow with a yellow belly. Will endeavour to get decent photos of both.
The beach is a two minute stroll away. The water is very warm but choppy. Yeah, like I'm complaining. My plan today is to wander back and forth between the ocean and this spot today. Maybe go into town later. Maybe not. We'll see.
There are a lot of Canadians and Brits here, people who are semi-retired and spend half their year here, and half at home. So far, I've met people from Kingston (ON), Sault Ste. Marie (ON), and Yorkshire (UK).
Going into town involves taking "the bus". The bus is a minivan jammed packed with locals and blaring calypso music at about 40,000 decibels. It costs the equivalent of 75 cents to go anywhere that you might want to go - either the local town, Oistins, or 20 minutes further to Bridgetown. They don't seem concerned about vehicle over-crowding. I'm sure the bus I took back from Oistins last night had 20 people jammed in it. I was the only white girl, and I had groceries and looked lost. I tried to blend in ... right ... I mean, when I say "white" I mean really white ... the photo below is my benchmark. We'll see what colour I wind up being at the end of this trip.
