Barbados [Unfinished]
I think I am a bit of a champagne socialist. I say that because I’m writing this in the 1903 lounge of terminal 2 at Manchester airport, with two glasses of champagne in front of me (I forgot about the first). I’ve just fast tracked through security, eaten a full English, and nailed an espresso. All of this was very necessary as I’m quite disastrously hung over. It was my dear cousin Neve’s 21st birthday, and she’d have been furious if I didn’t at least keep up with her drinking. Like I say, though, the hangover is being mitigated by the amenities of the lounge. Free buffet, free bar, comfy seats etc. and Dad, being Dad, has ensured we’re here a few hours early, so we have plenty of time to enjoy it. Mum got stopped at security and had to stand, barefoot, by the barrier for 10 minutes while they searched her bag. She’d left a perfume sample at the bottom. I may never forgive her for taking 10 minutes off of our time in the lounge.
On the issue of my champagne socialism, I’m beginning to worry that the awesome luxury of this holiday will bring about a good deal of guilt. A few weeks ago I met a girl who couldn’t afford to go to the dentist for a gum infection. She had to bleed out on her pillow and hope it just went away, while we spend her mums yearly salary on a holiday. I have very mixed feelings. However, champagne is great and I love my BMW, so…
I’ve downloaded 100 chapters of One Piece to read on the plane. It felt appropriate since we’ve visiting the Caribbean. Pirates and what not. My dad even packed a straw hat, so I suppose I’m an honorary member of Monkey D. Luffy’s crew.
Mum has mixed feelings about the holiday for very different reasons. She keeps lamenting that poor Lola can’t be here. “She’d love the lounge,” Mum insists. I pointed out that she wouldn’t love the lounge any more than any other room, as all food and drink is free to her anyway, and she has no concept of luxury. “She’d love it because we’re all here.” A fair point, I suppose.
Just reminding everyone that anti-stabbing airport knives exist.
You know the little tv screens they have on long haul flights? This one has a gaming controller. How fucking sick is that. Virgin Atlantic knows what’s up.
They really know what’s up. Jerry Seinfeld once asked: “what’s the deal with airline food?” If this shepherds pie is any indication, the deal is a Faustian one between Richard Branson and some kind of Mephistopheles of scran.
Being away with Theo is always funny because it puts him in vaguely unfamiliar situations, and when surrounded by anything but familiarity he’s entirely clueless. Earlier, he saw the duty free tobacco section and asked why they’d give out dutty tobacco for free. Just now he said “well how do I use this then?” Whilst holding a salt shaker. Now he’s buttering the bottom of a ciabatta because he couldn’t cut it open. He cracks me up.
The plane also offers canned wine. To me, that suggests that an it’s always sunny fan decided to monetise Frank’s idea, and that brings me immense joy.
I read one piece for 9 hours straight, it’s fantastic and everyone should do the same. We’ve arrived now but it’s pitch black so I can’t comment on how nice it most likely is. In other news, Theo has lost his backpack which contains a mac book, so that’s fun. We assume he left it in the taxi we got from the airport; silly silly boy. He’s now two for two in terms of doing dumb shit on recent family holidays (I hope a few readers will remember the infamous San Sebastián chunder incident).
Crisis averted, the taxi driver found his bag and brought it to the hotel. Theo sat in the lobby waiting to give him a tip while we got dinner; kind of a sitting on the naughty step situation. I’m glad it’s all resolved, that would’ve been a pain in all honesty.
It was fish night at the restaurant, so I had a prawn and smoked salmon cocktail, and scallop pasta, while everyone else went for lobster. I’m not personally a huge lobster fan. Overrated as fuck if you ask me. They used to serve it as prison food in Boston because of its abundance, so I think people only rave about it because they’ve been told to.
We got an early night and woke up at 8 am today. I actually woke up at 5 after some very peculiar dreams, one of which involved a film that was playing in cinemas and caused some kind of mass hysteria that meant everyone stripped butt ass naked in the theatre. I don’t know what that means or says about me, but it’s nothing good really is it?
I opened the blinds to reveal the beach, and it’s precisely how anyone, including myself, would imagine Barbados. Bright blue sea, big waves, near-white sand, annoying American lefty tourists dancing on said sand. It’s a tad greyer than I’d imagined though, but that may be because it’s still early morning. I have faith in the the morning sun. The waves are surprisingly big too, so I’m tempted to surf.
I constructed a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel from the breakfast buffet, and had it with a side of tofu and veg. I had freshly squeezed orange juice and a smoothie with it, along with some black coffee. You see, my plan is to eat relatively healthily whilst I’m here, because I think I’ll feel like shit if I combine greasy sweet American foods with endless rum punch, so I’ve decided to sacrifice the former. Theo and I are off to the gym next too. Got the keep the temple in order.
What an incredible place this dear world is. It’s 5.10 pm and I’m listening to reggae music.
I’m very glad that I got to stay in their place. I hope that it brings my people to life.
Ok those are both things that I wrote last night. After the gym we hung out on the beach all day, and I decided I’d test out every cocktail I could think of. By the evening I think I’d drank the most I ever have in a day, which explains the chaos of those two sentences. It was slightly overcast yesterday but still warm, and we alternated between the sea, the pool and the hot tub with a brief intermission to watch the City game. We won 4-0, so that was pleasant.
All in all I’m fairly sure I drank at least 15 cocktails, and crucially, I did all of this before we went for a fancy meal at the hotels fancy steak restaurant. This meant that… apparently… I was a little embarrassing. Talking way too loud, slouching, being odd. Whatever, I don’t care, the steak was incredible and so was the sea food chowder starter. Theo got some funny videos of me too, so there.
I woke up at 9.30 am with one of the worst hangovers of my life. 10 is the breakfast cut off, so I had to force myself out of bed or risk having to wait until 12 for lunch, which I wasn’t prepared to do. The problem was that every time I moved I felt like throwing up, so getting to the restaurant was a serious trial. I asked theo to grab my food, and I sat, looking like death and drinking orange juice.
I still haven’t drank anything alcoholic today, which is absurd given that it’s free and unlimited, but the idea of drinking again makes me nauseated. Instead, I’ve been hydrating myself and trying to sweat out the booze. I think it worked pretty well, but I still feel ropey. Not too ropey, mind you, as theo and I went sea turtle spotting with snorkels. We saw a good few, but not up close. They seemed to be mocking us; bobbing their heads up then disappearing as soon as we looked under water. I actually managed to see one a few inches away, but it scared the living shit out of me. I’d just been through a wave so the water was all bubbly and I couldn’t see anything. As the bubbles dispersed I saw what I thought was a rock below me. There are lots of rocks in the water, which makes it quite uncomfortable to walk in the sea, but alas. Anyway, I thought I saw another rock, but on closer inspection I noticed the distinctive turtle shell print, and jumped out of my skin. It was directly beneath me, so I was worried I might stand on it. I scampered off, shouting to Theo to come look, but when I turned back it’d gone.
Around 2 I decided to take a break from the sun as I thought the hangover dehydration mixed with 30 degree heat could make for a serious heat stroke. It’s 5.20, and I can’t bring myself to go back downstairs, I still feel very gross. I’m going to do it though, I want a coffee and a swim.
I got my coffee, a French vanilla latte with a shot of baileys, and I got my swim. Theo and I watched the sunset from the beach, but it was pretty much obscured by clouds. It cast some gorgeous colours across the sky, which was nice, but it was a shame we couldn’t see the sun itself, as I imagine it would have been stunning. In fact, I don’t need to imagine that, as mum and dad later told us they could see it from their balcony. How foolish Theo and I are.
After the sunset it was too cold to swim in the sea, so we headed to the hot tub for deep chats and what not, though this was mainly to kill time until dinner at 8.30, which was Italian. The time was killed, and we headed upstairs to shower and get changed, then came back down to the main restaurant. I ordered carpaccio to start, forgetting that a good carpaccio is quite hard to come by, and is very unlikely to be produced by people who live thousands of miles away from Italy. To make matters worse, our waitress was evidently new, and took mine and dads main orders incorrectly. I ordered a sea food linguine but got a beef ragu, and I forget what dad got but it was wrong in any case. This meant we had to wait another 10/15 minutes for our main despite being famished already, not having been satisfied with the three slithers of raw beef I’d had to start. Admittedly, when my linguine came it was fantastic, and everyone else’s food looked great too. Also, though the waitress was quite incompetent, she was trying her best and smiled a lot, so I can’t complain all that much. I was probably grumpy from my hang over anyway.
After dinner theo and I decided we’d check out the nearby town of St Lawrence Gap. On the walk over (a total of 10 mins) we were offered drugs 4 times, including weed and cocaine by a man who called himself the local dentist. I didn’t believe him for a second. This was the least interesting thing to happen on the walk however. About halfway through, a man approached us and started walking with us, telling us he loved the UK and had lived in liverpool. He waxed lyrical on the beauties of the UK, which has the best food, the best drinks, the best drugs and the best asses he’s ever experienced, apparently. He claimed the reason he came back was that some girls he was living with robbed a diamond Cartier watch, then blamed it on him. I’m not sure how much I believe the story, but it was entertaining in any case. Obviously he didn’t join us for the sole purpose of having a chat though. He said he was living on the street, and asked for some money. When I said I had no change, he asked if we’d buy him something at the nearby store. He didn’t want food, he wanted rum, water, cigarettes and beer, because that would allow him to have a fun night. Now, you may be thinking: max I hope you told him to do one. But, this was a homeless Barbadian man who had been to prison in the UK, and we were alone in a small town at night. I decided I’d rather spare 15 pounds than get stabbed, so I bought him some rum and water. The lady in the shop had evidently seen this before, and looked compassionately into my eyes as I paid. Afterwards, he insisted we should buy him a burger, because otherwise we were putting him in danger. At this point I did tell him to do one, as everyone was staring. I think I made the right choice, but I don’t really care all that much.
Theo and I walked to the town, then walked back along the beach so as to avoid the homeless gentleman. The town itself is a ramshackle collection of touristy bars filled with a mix of locals and Middle Aged Americans; not really our scene. I think Bridgetown will be much better. However, it was on the walk back that we noticed the second most interesting thing of the evening: a chicken. Or rather a rooster. There was a huge, colourful rooster just cutting about town, and nobody was batting an eye. Imagine if there was a chicken in the middle of Manchester? It’d be scenes. We were bemused and perplexed, to say the least.
We didn’t drink anything that night as we were quite worn out, so I woke up this morning with no difficulty around 9 am, then ate a very hearty breakfast of a bacon and Monterey Jack cheese omelette, with a side of bacon and more cheese. I also had some tomato and okra, as I’ve been interested to try the latter since I heard the Tyler the creator song. It was quite tasty.
Afterwards, Theo and I hit the gym to do back and biceps, then grabbed some drinks to bring back to the room. We’re getting ready to head to the sister hotel to do water sports.
Side note: I just ordered a piña colada and a frozen mojito at the bar, then sat there on my phone whilst the bartender made them. As he was blending the second drink, he came over coyly and said: “I see you’re a member of the akatsuki,” obviously having seen the pattern on my phone. We then had a little conversation about naruto. Made my day.
So, we did head to the sister hotel for water sports, but honestly it was a whole thing. We were told there was a free shuttle bus to the hotel, but were charged 70 Barbadian dollars (around 25 pounds) which is absurd. Then when we arrived, we asked at reception if the food and drink were free at the sister hotel, and the lady looked at me like I had no head. She said it costs around 80 for people at the sister hotel to eat and drink our hotel, but she’d check the price of the inverse. I wasn’t interested in the price, so we left, hoping to squeeze in some free water sports before we had to go back to our hotel for lunch.
When we arrived at the water sports place, we told the guys our predicament and they seemed outraged. “It’s not fair that you should pay at the sister hotel,” they said. Don’t worry, we’ll get you guys drinks, and let’s see if we can sort some food too. They were very kind, and seemed to genuinely want to help us. They grabbed us some drinks, then one guy asked us to follow him for food. He took us to one of the smaller places, and the lady there asked for our room number. At that point I thought our cover was blown and we’d be hunter to the edges of the island as imposters, but she noticed our beach bag had our hotels symbol on it. “You’re from the O2? Why didn’t you say?” She asked. “Because they told us we had to pay to eat here,” I responded. “Well, nobody gonna know,” she said, smiling at me.
The locals are very kind here. The problem I’ve found with this island, is that everyone seems to want to take as much of your money as possible, which makes sense given that their economy relies on tourism and has just suffered through a tourist blocking pandemic. Nonetheless, it makes it hard to tell whether people are being kind because they want to, or because they want your money, which I find very depressing. However, the kindness of the men at the water sports place and the lady who gave us food reassured me. Obviously I tipped them anyway, but this was mainly because I thought they wouldn’t have cared if we didn’t.
On the topic of tipping, we’d spent all of our cash on the shuttle over there, so we had nothing to tip them with. We also had no wallets, as we’d been assured everything was free. That meant we had to ask mum and dad to walk over with some cash, which was a tad embarrassing since we’d already lost some of their money the previous night, but whatever.
Anyway, one of the guys took us out on a sailboat, which was fun, but only lasted five minutes because the waves were too choppy, and I don’t think he much liked sailing two huge gentlemen on tempestuous seas. Afterwards, we opted to borrow body boards instead, since the waves were so big, and this was also a great time. Theo and I have done a lot of body boarding in our lives, so the novelty wore off relatively quickly, which meant we had to think of ways to spice is up. The first of these was to lie backwards, which worked surprisingly well. That was also the last thing we thought of, as there aren’t all that many ways to spice up riding waves on your belly, and the board sank when we tried to kneel on it. It did, nonetheless, motivate us to try surfing as soon as possible, whether that’s later in the holiday or back in the North Sea.
When mum and dad arrived, they asked at reception whether we had to pay. It turns out the lady we asked was new, and she got it wrong. It also turned out that the shuttle driver had scammed us, and that was also supposed to be free. Everything was supposed to be free, and the stress was for nothing.
Theo and I decided to walk home, as we were scarred by the previous shuttle bus. It was around 20 minutes, and mainly uneventful, bar a few chickens. On our arrival home, we hung out by the pool for a while, then got changed and enjoyed a delightful dinner. If I remember rightly I had a yellow pepper, coconut and mussel soup, followed by a pork tenderloin with barbecue potatoes.
We decided it’d be best to get an early night, as we had a catamaran cruise organised for the next morning, and had to be up by 7 am. It’s now 3 pm the next day, and we’re on the bus back to the hotel having just finished the cruise. It was incredible, and I’ll recount it below.
At breakfast we filled ourselves up as much as possible, being unsure how much we’d get to eat on the boat, then got on a bus outside of the hotel.
This bus was actually one of the most interesting parts of the holiday for me, purely due to the driver, who was a 50/60 year old man. He was incredibly knowledgeable regarding the island, but you’d expect that from a bus driver who earns a living from transporting tourists. What interested me, however, was how much he loved Britain. He mentioned that Barbados is referred to as little England, and repeated a number of times how indebted the island was to its mother country. He seemed adamant that Barbados owed its infrastructure to the UK, and loved Queen Elizabeth more than most Brits. It was a very strange thing to hear, given that most post colonies despise Britain, recognising the greed and exploitation that the empire stood for, but this man seemed to have devoured every bit of imperial propaganda available. They say that due to Barbados’ flat geography, Britain had far less trouble conquering and subduing it than Jamaica, for example, which is much more mountainous. Side note: the driver just informed us that the island itself is made of coral and sea shells, unlike many other Caribbean islands which are made of volcanic granite; that’s why it’s so flat. (Second side note, written a year later: This fact has fascinated me since I heard it, as it shows that the unique geological composition of Barbados has had a direct impact on the personalities of its inhabitants and their attitude to empire. Wild.) Anyway, it seems that even though the island has been politically independent of Britain since the 60s, and is now independent of the Commonwealth, you might say that the empire still has its meat hooks deeply rooted in the coral.
On a more optimistic note, the driver told us about the successes of the current Prime Minister, who is a woman. This surprised me, as I thought the country would be quite conservative. I believe they aren’t massively welcoming to the gays. However, as I say, they have a female PM, and the driver said that she handled the massive economic crisis entailed by Covid incredibly well. She also repaired a record numbers of roads, which had fallen into shambles under the previous administration. Perhaps most impressive though, is the fact that she has started an initiative to employ the people laid off due to the pandemic in “beautification” schemes, which pay them to clean up the island. Very basic Keynesian economics. But effective nonetheless.
Anyway, he dropped us in the centre of Bridgetown, which is stunning. The gorgeous weather helped, but the city itself is undoubtedly charming. The island is so quaint that the capital city is the size of a small British town, which makes the major buildings a bit of a novelty. We drove past the government headquarters, and it was the size of a large library. Then we drove past a number of fast food restaurants called Chefette, Barbados’ number one fast food chain. There were 2 or 3 within a kilometre of one another in the centre of the city, along with the headquarters and training centre. I don’t know why that was interesting and amusing to me, but seeing this major chain have its headquarters slap bang in the middle of the city was quite funny to me. If it’s not funny to you guys, that’s ok.
I’ve described the bus journey in immense detail, I know, and strangely enough I don’t think I’ll have quite as much to say about the boat trip. It was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I’m sure you can all picture a Caribbean boat trip pretty well. Gorgeous, warm blue sea, intense sun, intense burns… you get the idea. The captains brought us to snorkel over a shipwreck surrounded by beautiful blue and yellow fish. I managed to dive deep enough to touch the boat (he touched the butt) despite the water pressure making my ears feel like they were going to explode. Theo couldn’t do it, fanny. Afterwards they took us to swim with turtles, and we saw five or six of them. Beautiful creatures, so sweet and lovely. The urge to try to touch them was overmastering, but I’m a good boy, so I resisted.
Then they took us to a beach, where they gave us a delightful lunch of seared marlin with macaroni and cheese. Here we were allowed to swim freely and dive off the boat, so theo and I decided to compete to see who could do the best dive or front flip. I won both because I’m so clear of him in every way.
There were a large group of beautiful British women on the boat, who I believe were of Bajan descent. I must admit I was desperate to talk to them, and imagined a number of full length conversations (I was very charming in my head), but the idea of my mum and dad looking over at me and winking mid-game was too much, so I refrained. There were also like 5 of them, and I think they were gay. I don’t back myself that hard. Oh well, Theo and I plan to head into Bridgetown later anyway, so insane rizz will ensue no doubt.
On our return, I went for lunch and asked for a table for two, as Theo was going to join me. When I sat down, the lady asked if I was going to order now or wait for the lady to join me. I didn’t need this today. I had fish tacos with a mango salsa and sour cream. You know a taco is well marinated when you have to tip liquid out of the side. Also, they were soft tacos, which everyone knows are the only acceptable form of taco.
Whilst eating lunch, a reggae remix of “where is my mind?” By Pixies played over the speaker. Something about that really doesn’t sit right with me. It’s supposed to be a drug addict, I’m going insane, I’m so sad song. However, it does say “I was swimming in the Caribbean” during the song, so I suppose that’s the connection.
I wrote earlier that theo and I intended to go for a night out in Bridgetown, but we consulted a few of the bar staff and decided otherwise. One of my bar tender pals told me that he avoided Bridgetown at all costs, while the other said that the capital has zero night life, and that the main clubbing area was St Lawrence Gap, the place we’d been on Monday night (see- Chicken incident). Then we checked on maps to see which clubs were best in the Gap, as the locals call it, but found that two of them were closed on Wednesday nights. In the light of all this, we concluded tomorrow night would be our big Barbados blow out night, and went to get an early night. In any case, my Nan and Uncle Mark were visiting the next day, and we’d need to be well rested for that.
Nanny and Uncle Mark are going on a cruise this week, you see, and that cruise departs from Barbados, then jumps across the Caribbean. I’m not sure whether this was a coincidence or whether it was intentionally engineered, but it’s a pleasant turn of events anyway. We woke up around 8, then went for a breakfast. Then we did a pull day at the gym and showered ready for their arrival at 10.30. They were staying overnight in a nearby hotel which was apparently unsatisfactory as it lacked proper coffee making facilities in the room. A short taxi brought them to us at the Ocean 2 Beach Resort, and they met us at our rooms.
We then headed down to the pool/ beach area, where, whilst the six of us hung out, I wrote the following:
A reggae remix of that 80s song “I’ll be watching you” has played 9 times in a row. I’m going insane. It’s 12.01 on Thursday.
However, I wasn’t going all that insane as, unlike the previous day, I’d decided to repeat Monday’s day-drinking antics. Theo and Uncle Mark were up for it, and my favourite anime-watching bartender was working, so the stage was set. I challenged him with ever more obscure drinks whilst chatting with the others about various silly topics. We went snorkelling again, with equally futile results in terms of turtle spotting, then mulled about in the pool, discussing video games and women- topics upon which I can wax beyond lyrical. My women waxing is poetic.
Theo asked if we should go to elements (the buffet restaurant) or Bluffin. When I asked if he meant “Blue Fin”, the beach bar, he smirked and looked embarrassed. I obviously had to tell everyone about his stupid idiot mistake, and it was known as bluffin from then on.
It’s now 7.29pm on Friday and Theo and I are at Oistins fish market, which people have raved about to us all week. The place is quite literally bouncing; reggae music is shaking me to the core. There’s some nutter stood next to us doing vaguely kung fu like motions very slowly, as if trying to attack someone using his mind. He’s gone now. It’s very very warm, and this is accentuated by the body heat of the people we’re queuing with. We’ve been queueing for half an hour and we’ve only got halfway through the line.
The madman is back, probably to blow someone up with his mind. I get that. The fish stall serves marlin, sword fish, shrimp, lobster, salmon, snapper and more outlandishly, flying fish and fucking dolphin, apparently. I am rather hungry now, as I missed breakfast and puked my guts up before lunch due to last nights escapades. There’s an incredible variety of people here too, it seems to be a major tourist attraction.
50 mins later and we’re still waiting. Some innocent looking, short girl with a London accent stood ahead of us just ordered dolphin. I’m having the mind blowing revelation that my preconceptions about people aren’t always accurate. We have ordered, after 1 hour and 40 mins.
Ok, the food is fantastic, admittedly, and we’re sat watching a group of street performers dance to Billie Jean and smooth criminal, all dressed in MJ style clothes. The performers are incredible too; they’ve not only got the movements perfected, but that almost pained expression he wore whilst dancing too.
I don’t want to be mean, but as a rule of thumb, the Bajan people are on the larger side, and there’s a very definite reason for this: I’ve eaten macaroni and cheese pie 4 times this week. It’s a staple of their cuisine. That’ll pile on the pounds.
There’s a guy sat next to me in the plane watching a Starbucks documentary and taking notes. I wonder what on earth that could be for.
Luffy punches Sir Crocodile. I have included this panel firstly because its sick as fuck and secondly because I took this screenshot on the flight home, showing that I read well over 200 chapters of One Piece during my week in the Caribbean.
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I never finished this as the cumulative hangover took me out for a week. Barbados is a fascinating place, though, and I’d love to go again, if only to finish my account of it. Maybe I’ll teach English there. If the bus driver is any indication, they’d probably love me.
