In the cover of darkness, a taxi min-van transported us to the airport. The driver asked us what we’d done and seen on the island and I listed off all of our activities. I asked him if he’d been to those places (Maria, the property manager at the apartment alluded to the fact that being a local, she didn’t get to most of the tourist locations) and the taxi driver said “Oh yes. Too many times”. So, maybe as a driver he goes to these places more often than others on the island.
Flights were on time and the lay overs just long enough to grab a bite to eat and make it to the next gate. Arrived on time at DTW and back to the stark black and white reality of winter.
Getting the award for the worst shower on the planet, The Blue Horizon is a hotel across the street from the gorgeous public access beach near Rockley.
Sunday afternoon the beach was busier than other beaches we’d been on (although, all the beaches we’d been on all week were nearly completely vacant of human beings) with people in beach chairs under umbrellas, youngsters out in the waves on boogie boards, and others walking the beach.
There’s a nice boardwalk along the coast that’s maybe a mile right along the beach. Just before the boardwalk, there was a tiny sandman; three balls of sand stacked up on top of one another, maybe six or eight inches tall, and written in the sand, “Canadians Were Here”.
The two questions the locals ask the tourists are 1) Is this your first time on the island? and 2) Are you from Canada? The tourists are mainly from England and Canada. The four people in the first floor apartment were Scots and the four next door were English. I met two women at the bus stop from Canada. One day, while walking on the beach, I met a group of six people from the US, originally from northern Ohio now living in Virginia. And, the two guys renting the place next to us were Michigan State students.
It was cooler Sunday, yet still swimsuit weather, and when we inquired about snorkeling gear, the woman at the reception desk at The Blue Horizon said “It’s a bit nippy today”. I just about burst out laughing. These people don’t know “nippy”.
On the way from Orchid World to The Blue Horizon (our hotel for the night) we stopped at Gun Hill Station. The signal stations, six of them, were used in the before-telephone-time to relay messages to Bridgetown about incoming ships. The view from there is almost 360 degrees and is lush and gorgeous.
We headed to Orchid World on the way to the hotel that’s closer to the airport. Orchid World is a nice piece of property near the center of the island. It rained on the way there, the first real rain shower we’ve had then entire week. It didn’t last long but it came down hard.
When we entered Orchid World the woman told us that the bloom percentage was about 40%. She gave us an umbrella just in case there were more rain showers (there weren’t). The grounds are well kept and supplemented with lots of other tropical plants and flowers. The view of the sugar cane fields is quite gorgeous. This is more of a farming area much like the northern part of the island.
Orchid
Orchid
The view from Orchid World
for way too many photos of orchids go here:
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During our walks on the beach we occasionally see a turtle poke his head up out of the water. There are organized tours that will take you “swimming with the turtles”.
Today, I swam with turtles on my own! I was floating out in the salty water of the Caribbean and all of a sudden, a turtle was in front of me. So, I followed it, swimming just behind and above. At a couple of points I thought I was close enough to touch it but it was hard to judge how deep in the water it was. He poked his head out once and at that point I was about five feet away from him. I didn’t really pay attention to where in the water I was and found myself quite a distance from shore. Then I saw the speed boat and the jet ski, one on my left, one on my right, zooming by. So I headed to the shore. Then, almost to the shore – another turtle (or maybe it was the same one)!! I followed it far a minute but had to quit. I was out of gas.
If you hold your arms out in front of you and make a circle, they were at least as big as that. Another fun encounter with wildlife under the water.
Linda and I took the bus to downtown Bridgetown. We waited for the blue national bus, passing up a couple yellow buses, before hopping on one of the yellow buses. I got the last seat in the bus and the guy who takes the fares signaled to Linda she could ride shotgun. So, she had an up close and personal view of all the things the driver didn’t hit!
As we got closer to the downtown area traffic came to a stand still. The locals emptied the bus en mass, choosing to carry on by foot. We stayed on a little way longer and got off near Cheapside Farmer’s Market and headed to the Pelican Craft Market, which was a bust.
On our way towards the center of Bridgetown, we came across the fish market. It stinks to high heaven of fish and it was fascinating to see all the workers cleaning and skinning fish.
Fish market
We walked down Broad Street, with high end diamond and Emerald stores, past the parliament building, and over to the bus station, where we caught the number 13 to the Barbados Museum and Historical Society, housed in the former garrison. There’s some information on the wildlife display, (where we figured out the little animal we see darting across the country roads is a mongoose), historical information, a small military display and quite a nice area of African Art. Most of the rooms weren’t air conditioned and at one point I had to cut short my stay because I was too uncomfortable.
Barbados Museum
The museum is right across the street from the horse race track and it was race day. The Barbados Gold Cup looked like a high deal judging by the number of cars and people there were.
Barbados Gold Cup
We had lunch at a Little Jamacian place. The food was spicy and plentiful and the woman serving us was delighted to have us there.
We waited for the bus and finally gave up and hailed a taxi. After agreeing on the fare we hopped in, buckled our seat belts, and sped off. At one point the cabbie made a phone call and upon ending that call he took a severe right hand turn, out of the heavy, heavy traffic. He sped through little empty streets and at one point slowed, honking a couple of times. A guy walked out into the street and the cabbie held out money, one bill I couldn’t tell what denomination, and the guy in the street grabbed it as we kept going. Just doing a little business while doing business.
Like Costa Rica, there is a sense of formal dress in service workers. The gas stations are full service and the attendants look snappy in their uniforms. In fact, all of the uniforms (servers, tour guides, parks) are nice looking. This isn’t 100%across the board. The “guide” at the sea-cave was just dressed in a t-shirt.
Virginia, our guide at St. Nicholas Abbey
Don, our guide at the sea-cave, mon.
The homes in Barbados are, for the most part, tiny. Some are brightly colored, some have flowers or a small patch of lawn that gets cut with a weed whipper. Some have antennas and others have huge satellite dishes (that make me think of Mumbai or soccer, and I don’t really know why).
Typical Home
Lots of men have long hair, either braided or in dread locks. Some wear a hat, almost like a tall Dr. Suess hat, with (I’m guessing) their hair tucked inside.
Man wearing a hat
The school children wear uniforms to school. School gets out around 3 PM and there are hordes of kids, all ages, swarming around the little markets and along the road either walking or waiting to catch the bus.
School girl in her uniform sipping on an after school drink.
The buses go screaming fast. The “national” buses are big blue buses or big yellow buses. The small yellow buses are some other company owned bus. The national bus is $1 per ride and is quiet. The unofficial bus is $2 a ride and the play terrible music loudly.
There were actually a few quick rain showers today and it was cloudier than the previous days this week. I actually used the windshield wipers on purpose.
Driving is better and better, easier and easier. Not to say that it is “easy”. Everything I know about sitting on the left side of the car and driving on the right side of the road is slowly (very slowly) being rewired.
I don’t know how to convey how intense the driving is. The roads are narrow and the whole sense of the width of the vehicle driving while sitting on the right side of the car is totally off, which is tricky when driving on the left side of the road. I keep looking right to look in the rear view mirror, but it’s still in the middle of the car, which means looking left. Left hand turns are easy and the right hand turns are the hard ones, it being necessary to watch for oncoming traffic. And, the round abouts go clockwise (left). The gear shift is still in the middle of the vehicle (thankfully, it’s an automatic), but the wipers are where I am used to having the turn signal and the turn signal lever is where I am used to having the wipers. So, the first day (and many subsequent ones) I used the lever for the wipers to signal turning.
Linda said “It’s not raining” and later in the day “It’s still not raining” and now it has become one of the mottos during our drives.
The day Linda took a turn at the wheel the curb jumped out a time or two resulting in the wheel looking like this.
Wheel after intersecting with two curbs
Sometimes there are curbs, other times these huge gutters, feet deep. Rarely are there lines in the middle or on the sides of the road and the locals put the pedal to the metal. The real heart stopper is when the big buses or trucks are in the oncoming traffic. I don’t know which is harder; being the driver or the passenger.
The day we went to Animal Flower Cave, as a bus approached on a narrow road I pulled to the left as far as I could go into the vegetation, stopped the car, clenched the steering as tight as I possibly could, and closed my eyes hard. Everything worked out.
We visited Folkstone today, the public park on the west side of the island that rents snorkeling gear and has quiet waters. Our first swim out, I saw four fish and they weren’t very exciting. We walked down the beach a bit and tried a different spot. No luck. Then our third time out, we hit the jackpot. So many fish, so many colors, so many shapes and sizes. I went out twice more, resting and warming up in between swims. Once, a big wave knocked me around and I scraped both shins and a knee on the coral. Both Linda and I were bleeding upon our return to the beach but now, back in the apartment, they are minor.
A couple of my favorite were the (these are my made up names) “matchy matchy” fish, who look just like the Caribbean; turquoise and blue. The fish that I would call periwinkle in color. They seemed fearless, swimming within arms reach of me, sometimes coming at me head on, almost playing chicken. The fish I started to think of as the fashionista of the sea; bug gut green head with a pink edged body filled in with a white polka dot pattern. The fish that looked all black (and sometimes had a yellow tail) also had iridescent purple dots on its body when the light was just right. And near the shore thousands of almost clear fish swimming in a school as far as I could see both directions.
What a world there is just beneath the surface! If this is what swimming could be like, I would swim all the time.
