The British have left their mark on Barbados. The language is English, the sport is cricket, the driving is on the left, and politics is taken very seriously. Barbadians are proud of their hard-won struggle for national independence. But on this most easterly of Caribbean isles, politics gets a special spin.
One sunny noontime, a boisterous crowd had gathered outside the big coral Parliament buildings, just off Trafalgar Square and within sight of Adm. Horatio Nelson`s statue. When a Cabinet minister`s car drove into the courtyard, the crowd cheered him wildly. Then Prime Minister Bernard St. John arrived, and a group of women greeted him with song: ”I just called to say, I love you.”
That blend of good humor and personal pride is encountered throughout Barbados, not just in its bustling capital, Bridgetown. Car horns toot constantly, not in anger over traffic, but in greeting. Barbadians, or Bajans, as they call themselves, never miss a chance to wave, shout or whistle at the wonder of seeing an acquaintance.
Their response to a stranger is more subdued. But over several days of driving, with little help from local maps, I must have asked directions of 75 Bajans, from teen-agers on bikes to elderly people on benches. Never once did I receive anything less than a smile and eagerly supplied advice.
Barbados has all of the requisites tourists demand of a tropical island:
sun, soft breezes, endless beaches, starry nights. And it offers something else quite rare in some parts of the Caribbean: a population that seems to accept the presence of strangers with good cheer.
A visit to a Caribbean island tends to split neatly into two phases. Your first days are spent in a state of collapse, sprawled on the beach or alongside the pool. Meals are consumed at the hotel or somewhere within easy walking distance. Then, properly–or painfully–sunburned, with energy levels rising, you feel the urge to explore.
I spent Phase One at the Tamarind Cove Hotel on Barbados`s western, Caribbean coast, where most of the dozens of resorts are concentrated (the east coast faces the stormy Atlantic). There are more elaborate places to stay, including the luxurious Sam Lord`s Castle, once home to a notorious pirate captain. And there are a host of apartments and apartment hotels available. But the Tamarind Cove had a full measure of the amenities at a price I could more or less afford.
Which is to say, the food is adequate (you don`t go to the Caribbean for gourmet fare); the atmosphere, friendly; the 87 rooms, comfortable; the water sports, extensive. The island, surrounded by coral reefs, is a happy hunting ground for snorkelers, and the hotel`s long waterfront is alive with wind surfers and water skiers.
Only one section of the seafront, however, is approved for swimming–an area kept free of sea urchins. I discovered this fact too late. But 24 hours after stepping on one of the spiny creatures, I was back on the tennis court, courtesy of the hotel`s barman, who applied cool lime juice and a dollop of excruciatingly hot candle wax to my wounds.
When Phase Two arrived, I set out for Bridgetown, where 100,000 of the island`s 260,000 residents live. The streets were busy with shoppers, many of them headed for the huge indoor Cheapside Market, with its fruit and vegetable stands. (At first glance, prices seemed exorbitant, but not so–the Barbadian dollar is pegged at twice the value of the United States dollar.)
Schoolchildren in blue and white uniforms threaded their way through the throngs–Barbados has the highest literacy rate in the Caribbean. Fishing boats and small merchant ships plied the harbor.
Down the street from Parliament is St. Michael`s Cathedral, with its vaulted ceiling and acre of wooden pews. The plaques on its walls and the tombs in its cemetery offer a quick course in the history of this tiny island, half the size of New York City. Inside, for example, there is a tribute to Mrs. Laetittia Austin: ”This amiable and accomplished Woman arrived from England in Sept. 1801 and was removed by a Fever Nov. the 19th following . . .” In the graveyard are the remains of such departed leaders as Sir Grantley Adams, the black man who became Barbados`s first prime minister.
Barbados was under British dominion from the time of its settlement in 1627 until its independence in 1966. In the early years, sugar cane, farmed by slaves brought over from Africa, made the island the richest of all of Britain`s colonies in the New World. The slaves were freed in 1834, and gradually their descendants–90 percent of the population–have taken over the political reins.
Bridgetown`s museum has daylight visiting hours, but its stuffy rooms can be explored in the evening as part of a twice-a-week show on the premises.
”1627 and All That” turned out to be a mildly entertaining historical revue whipped up for the tourist trade, complete with colorful costumes and lively dancers. A buffet dinner was part of the package, providing limitless quantities of such specialties as plantain, fried flying fish and calypso chicken. The museum has an eclectic collection–moths, porcelain, prints, costumes. Here, a series of rooms furnished in the style of a 19th-Century plantation owner; there, a room full of sketches of slave life by an 18th-Century artist.
Most of the sites and sights of Barbados can be seen in a day`s drive with one of several touring companies, in a taxi or rental car. But those who enjoy poking around should schedule two days, which allows time for a leisurely lunch and a swim. I rented a compact car, obtained my $15 visitor`s driving license and headed for the hills. On the left-hand side of the road, of course, and with care. Winding two-lane roads lead past sugar-cane fields and through tiny villages, along empty east coast beaches lined with palm trees.
At the most elaborate of the island`s tourist sites, Harrison`s Cave, the radio in the visitors` center was playing ”Love on the Rocks” as vacationers lined up for a brief slide show and then climbed aboard a tram. The next half- hour was spent below ground, rolling slowly among limestone stalactites and stalagmites glowing in red and green lights, listening to the guide hail the wonders of ”The Village” (the stalagmites look like buildings) or ”The Cascade Pool” (fed by a 40-foot-high waterfall), and dodging occasional drippings from the ceilings.
Andromeda Gardens offers another kind of natural wonder. Endless paths wander through a fairy-tale landscape blooming with gorgeous exotic plants from the world over: orchids in every color of the spectrum, frangipani and bougainvillea, ylang-ylang and canary bush, ixora from Thailand and eucalyptus from Australia. The glowing red and yellow wild banana was velvety to the touch. The foot-and-a-half-long cattail from India was furry.
The style of the gardens is half their charm: the sudden stone archways;
the quiet, hidden pools with accents of pink and blue waterlilies; the pots of greenery hanging here and there. A visit is like happening upon an extraordinary private garden, which it is, the result of 30 years of collecting and nurturing by the owner of the estate, Iris Bannochie.
A few minutes` drive from the gardens is the Atlantis Hotel, where I lunched on the balcony, watching the fishing boats come in and gorging on delicate, crusty spinach balls, pumpkin fritters and kingfish, topped off by a tangy pumpkin pie.
Atop Chalky Mount, farther up the Atlantic coast, there is a bumpy road lined with potters` cottages and their children. Some of the potters have been firing up their kilns for 30 years. The Coral Island shop nearby is a very different matter: big, modern, chockablock with vases, ashtrays, and souvenirs. The workers give brief lectures and demonstrations of their craft. There are other historic sites. St. Nicholas Abbey, for example, is the island`s oldest house, built before 1660. Visitors can watch a film that shows the island as it was a half-century ago, and then take a guided tour past remnants of a past age–an 1810 dinner service, a 200-year-old wine cooler. Something for everyone`s sitting room: a centuries-old reading chair that smacks of Rube Goldberg, complete with adjustable back and metal arms that bring books, drinks and food within a gentleman`s easy reach. And there are other scenic spots to sample, including Welchman Hall Gully, where visitors stroll through a tropical jungle.
Eventually, though, even the most curious-at-heart begin to overdose on history and nature and it`s time to return to basics. Food, for instance. After the bland fare at my hotel, I tried a few restaurants. My favorite was Reid`s, an open-air establishment that nicely, if expensively, combined local specialties with Continental cuisine. If you go, reserve a table on the raised platform and try the fresh fish.
The Ship Inn is the place for a snack (homemade meat pies), a beer, and some lively talk in the atmosphere of an English pub. Talk turns to singalongs four nights a week when musical combos perform. And if you`re still running on Phase Two energy, you can dance until all hours at the Boatyard, a funky outdoor club beside the sea.
The chances are, though, that what you`ll remember most about Barbados is not the night life, the food, or the sightseeing. Those lazy, sun-drenched days beside the sea are what you go there for, and they`re certainly memorable. Still, I remember best what I had expected least: the fun of visiting an island where I was made to feel welcome.
