I wish I could say I put a lot of thought into picking the destination for this vacation. But it was time to hit the beach and Barbados was said to be the most ‘English’ island in the Caribbean – so it seemed like a good choice.
I snagged a flight (DCA-FLL-BGI) for $350 which is a price that couldn’t be beaten. Plus, it was on JetBlue – which is one of few airlines where sitting in cattle class doesn’t make you feel like a piece of cattle. Ten days of solo relaxation – sure, I can handle this.
I slept through DCA-FLL but was at little surprised when getting on my FLL-BGI segment that they actually check your passport before boarding (I guess if you don’t have a passport there’s no reason to get onboard). Being next to last in line I could see the gate agent at the podium go “Passport please – [SCAN] – [BEEP] – Thank you – Next”. “Passport please – [SCAN] – [BEEP] – Thank you – Next”.
When I reached the podium it was “Passport please – [SCAN] – [LOUD ALARM NOISE] – Sir, please step out of the line.”
The agent started furiously working the computer and looking at my passport as I tried to look as non-threatening as possible. After a very long 45 seconds she says “Ok – you can board”. She didn’t explain and I didn’t ask.
The rest of the flight was a breeze and I had the best possible seatmate on the way down – namely – no one.
Flying over the Caribbean was actually pretty cool. On most flights you are either looking at bland farm land or the vast ocean (as you wonder about your ETOPS range). But going over the Caribbean you can see all the islands, the different colors of the water surrounding them and even some of the water activity. It’s kind of like a preview of what’s in store.
The first thing I learned upon arrival is that it’s really cool to be an American. Followed closely by being British, Australian, Canadian and even French people using EU passports. Because passport control and customs agents have no interest in hassling you. Everyone else was getting the third degree about whether they had enough money for their hotel rooms and having their luggage ransacked for bags of cocaine. We just breezed right through our own line like the very image of Imperial privilege. Sometimes it’s good to be the King – or at least the descendants of his former subjects.
That’s when things went sideways. I had decided that rather than take a Taxi and risk getting ripped off I’d just take the local bus to my hotel and walk the three blocks. That was a really bad idea. Because, as it quickly became apparent once I’d gotten to the bus stop, there are no schedules, printed maps or anything else that might tell you how to get on the right bus. Eventually I just got on board the one that everyone else did.
I had carefully memorized the name of the two bus stops near my hotel but I’m not sure we even passed them. I ended up at the central bus station in Bridgetown where 400 natives were trying to get someplace before the system shut down for the night. The very nice lady at the help booth spoke perfect British English with a heavy Barbados accent through a plexiglass window loudspeaker – which meant I couldn’t understand a word she said. Eventually I got on the right bus and found my stop. Even then it took another 40 minutes to find the hotel. Street signs and numbers apparently aren’t a big thing in Barbados and the other hotel people claimed they had never heard of the place. Eventually someone told me to head down a very dark dead-end alleyway and there it was.
The hotel I’d chosen followed my standard MO. Cheap, good location, no extra amenities (who the hell needs a hotel with a pool when you are on the beach) and solid reviews on Travelocity.
In this case my hotel was a 1960’s build, two stories with private patios on the second floor and a large patio directly on the beach with its own bar (much more about that later). The room had a nice bed, AC, a full kitchen and those old school pre-AC 12+ foot ceilings. It could have used an update, but it was super clean and really that’s all that matters. Plus it had secure Wi-Fi so I was in business.
Because I was arriving late the manager told me to ask for ‘Jonathan’ when I got there. He turned out to be the security guard taking a nap on the back patio. Once awakened, he handed me my key and pointed in the direction of my room. I seemingly had the place to myself (and it would turn out that wasn’t far from the truth) so I plopped my feet up for a few minutes and enjoyed what I could see of the view – which was pretty much nothing….
In the morning I stepped out of my room and just stared.
It was the most breathing taking and stunningly beautiful place I’d ever seen. And it would turn out the entire island was like this. The sand was the consistency of sugar. The water color varied between tan and deep purple depending on the depth. Even the cargo ships in the distance seemed to be graceful.
You just wanted to sit down and stare at it – and I did. Even the videos on the travel sites had sold the place short. I know my camera did.
VID_20181010_095110270
But of course the first task is to put on the shoes and recon the area.
I was in Dover Beach. It’s mainly a lot of newer mid-range hotels on the beach with a supporting string of restaurants, t-shirt shops and small grocery stores. Being the ‘rainy season’ it was almost empty. Even the 3-4 street merchants that were setting up seemed surprised to see me. I scouted out the basics – restaurants – groceries – 24 convenience store – bus station. Normally I would have just located these on the map before I left. But Barbados isn’t like the US where things are always updated online. So until I could see them myself they didn’t exist.
Barbados turned out to be surprisingly cheap on a day to day basis. The prices at the grocery stores were fair (some items were very expensive, but I think that was just a matter of the cost to import specialty items). There were all kinds of local brands, but I tried to stick to what I knew (Kraft, Hershey, Mars etc.). Often time these tasted different (not bad – just different). My guess was that they were having to substitute regional ingredients where needed.
Even the restaurants were reasonably priced and the service was quaintly slow. Unlike the US they don’t drown everything in salt. So there’s nothing burning your tongue to hide the actual taste of what you’ve ordered. To the shock of no one that knows me I stuck with the basics. And surprisingly the island serves a pretty good burger and fries.
The Barbados currency was a little confusing. It’s called the Barbados Dollar [BDS]. And the exchange rate is fixed at two Barbados Dollars to the US Dollar [USD]. So you would walk into a store and spend five dollars on a candy bar and think you were getting ripped off. But then you do the math and realize that it’s only $2.50 USD and you figure that with the cost of importing everything it’s a pretty fair deal.
The hotel turned out to be a very peculiar place – I mean that in the best way possible. I knew something was up when I saw that the decades old safety signs in the room were in English and German. Sitting at the bar that night explained why.
It turned out to be one of those places where people keep coming back 2-3 times a decade and everyone knew everyone from that time in the 70’s when they got drunk together at this very spot. The crowd was 100 percent English speaking – I mean like all over the empire. There were Brits, Irish, Austrians etc. etc. Even the Germans tried speaking English (which is always a little ominous).
The first people I met were a pair of school teachers on vacation from Vermont. They had been coming here for years and begged me not to mention the place to anyone on the internet (I got that request a couple of times – and they didn’t seem to be kidding). So as silly as it might seem, if you want to know the hotel name email me directly.
The party on the patio started every night about an hour before the sun went down and ran until midnight. The first night’s DJ was Alexa going through its idea of Abba’s greatest hits [its’ song selection skills were impressive]. The bartender had been there for decades – and some of the people knew him when his father was behind the bar. You could get all the major international beer brands but most people were sticking with the local offerings like Banks.
I kept the interactions on the typical introvert level. But at one point I was cornered by a pair of drunk Irishmen (well, that’s an ethnic stereotype – they might have been drunk Welshmen for all I know – they all look alike to me) that wanted to talk about how America was screwing up the world. At least I think that’s what they were talking about. I could only understand about 30% of what they were saying between the slurred speech, accent, slang, sayings & vocabulary. The amusing thing was that one would get offended that I wouldn’t let him buy me a drink and the other would tell him to lay off. The next time the bartender came around they would reverse roles. But after they staggered off I had the beach to myself again.
I also had a very interesting talk with one of the locals. He had started buying property back in the 60’s and had about a half dozen of them by that point. He entire life was just hanging out with his friends while the tourists were pouring money into his bank account. I was impressed.
The rest of the trip was more about exploring the island. I was handicapped by not having rented a car (one of two mistakes I made on the trip). So I did a lot of travel by bus – oh yes – the buses – more about them later.
The beaches in Barbados are basically divided into two categories. The West Coast is more touristy, with fine white sand and gentle waves. The East Coast beaches are much more rugged with crashing waves, large boulders and more of the water sports culture. Since I was staying on the West Coast I decided to take a bus over and see what the East Coast was all about.
The major town on the East Coast is Bathsheba and the ride across the island to reach it had some amazing views. Aside from tourism, Barbados only other real export is agriculture. But it wasn’t field after bland field of corn or rice like in the US. There were all kinds of exotic products like sugar and bananas all being raised in their own mini-ecocultures. According to the inscriptions, some of the roads and bridges we traveled had been built in the early 1800’s – and they felt like it. It would have been perfect for a bicycle tour if you had the calves to make those hills.
The other thing you noticed driving around the island was the number of roadside bars. Just little places that were more like shacks with a couple of chairs out front. The buses would stop at each one and ask the owner if anyone needed a ride home. The patron would then board, or be poured, into a seat and off we went. There was no need to ask where to drop them off since everyone knew where everyone lived.
About 45 minutes later we careened down a two mile stretch of switchbacks and arrived in Bathsheba.
As soon as I got off the bus I walked into a troupe of surfers that were practicing for the International Suring Championships later that month. Actually, most of them were just sitting around drinking beer. One was minding the camera they were using to capture any YouTube worthy wipeouts. There were 2-3 guys actually in the water just making practice runs.
After about an hour of failing to fit in I asked where the nearest bathroom was and they pointed up the road to a local restaurant. This was not an IHOP. It was about four stories, built of brick and stones directly into the cliff. It was originally an old private house that also served as some sort of light-house / navigation point. None of the original features had been altered so it had a definite old English vibe to it. All they had done was add some large seating areas with breathtaking views of the water.
The menu was hand written, consisting of whatever was possible with what they had on hand. But the burger was good, the salad was excellent. Capable of seating about 200 I had the entire place to myself and just watched the waves come in. At some point I slowly started to understand the appeal of being a beach bum. – VID_20181012_122344087 – VID_20181012_123628499
My next excursion was to Bridgetown itself. Save yourself the time. It was a bunch of old uninteresting buildings filled with the local version of the Dollar Store and a Burger King. There was a marina, but staring at boats doesn’t do much for me. If I was more gastricly adventurous I could have hit up the farmers market next to the bus station – but I’m not, so I didn’t.
I did grab the bus that ran the length of the West Coast and visited Holetown. Imagine you are driving down a road with nothing but trees and an ocean view. And the next thing you know you’re in the tropical version of Beverley Hills – that’s Holetown. When you hear that some celebrity is visiting Barbados it’s a lock that’s where they are. The beach side of the road is huge houses with private beaches behind security gates. The other side is the shops that cater to them – jewelry – clothes – whatever. I got out and walked around for a while hoping to grab a photo with Brad Pitt’s accountant or the official joint roller for some rapper. But no such luck, and I headed back.
I don’t want to say the island is boring, but if history is your thing there’s not that much to see. It’s really a place to sit and stare at nature or do some water sports like scuba diving or jet skiing.
So that’s really what I did for the entire trip – sit on the beach and watch the waves come in. Or sit any place and watch the waves come in. Seriously the picnic bench outside the KFC had a view that most Americans would mortgage their souls for.
About the weather. Every county has what’s called the ‘low season’. That’s code for ‘the weather sucks so the hotels are dirt cheap’. Well, even the low season in Barbados was spectacular. I don’t think we had a high below 85 the entire time I was there, and I was tan for a month afterword (which is quite an accomplishment). The only time it rained was the day I left and a couple of quick island storms (like 10-15 minutes – but that happens year-round). So the bottom line is that Barbados is always good weather.
And now to the buses. Buses are the lifeblood of Barbados – but they are not for the faint of heart. There’s a certain amount of fatalism about riding them that I don’t think I was up to. At one point I was two feet from the door – which they rarely close – with one arm wrapped around the pole as we did a traffic circle at about twice the posted speed limit. Normally I would say something funny about my life passing before my eyes – but I was actually starting to worry that I wasn’t going to be on the bus when it reached the next stop. If you look really carefully at first few frames of the video you can see the kid on the bicycle (left hand side) that we nearly ran down – that happened more than once. On the trip to Bathsheba a tree branch the diameter of my wrist came through my open window with bone breaking force. When I got off the floor I carefully moved to the aisle seat for the rest of the trip
Take my advice – get a rental car.
So what about the locals? Well, Barbados has quite a reputation for friendliness. And for the street merchants that true – as long as you are buying something. Not buying – then fuck off. They also don’t like to be ignored. Walk down the street deep in your own thoughts and you will get followed a ½ block by a guy that’s pissed you didn’t respond to his attempts to sell you a t-shirt. One guy did that to me three times in three days.
As far as the service was concerned – it was ok, friendly, maybe a little dismissive and slow but not maddeningly so. But after all these people live in paradise and from what I saw a ten-dollar tip from a Westerner would go a long way – so why get stressed out about anything?
Other Little Things –
I did break down and try to watch a few hours of TV. But Barbados is one of the most southernly of the islands (far closer to South America and the US) so your TV is going to be soccer, Spanish soaps and the ubiquitous BBC.
If you are into photography this place would be amazing. You can literally have a beach to yourself to experiment with. And it’s not just the beaches. It’s the night life, locals, farms and just the range of colors.
I think this would be a great place to bicycle through so long as you keep an eye out for traffic.
They have since introduced a new $75 tax per person / per flight. So getting a cheap ticket is going to be that much tougher.
Lessons learned
- Get a local SIM card for your phone. You might have GPS everywhere, but without being able to download local maps to plot your location you are going to be going around in circles.
- Rent a car so you aren’t at the mercy of the buses.
- Get more local dollars than you think you will need. Running out of local currency sucks (not every place takes plastic and where they do it doesn’t always work). You can always exchange whatever’s left at the airport on the way home.