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Tucker time for turtles
There could be worse things in life than to be sprawled out under the hot sun on the white sands of Miami Beach on the southern coast of Barbados, but right now we cannot think of any. The temperature is in the mid-thirties, the water warm and, unlike the vivid blue of Croatia and Greece, it is a milky blue, the result of sand churning with the surf as it gently crashes against the shore.
Miami Beach and the neighbouring Endeavour Beach appear to be favourites, every day dozens of Bajans were there both in the mornings and evening in what looked to be the local equivalent of aquacise classes, a few were long-distance swimming and others exercised on the beach, some with trainers, or ran and walked in laps along the foreshore. Calisthenics and yoga, stretching and muscle-toning, we had not envisaged the amount of fitness activity going on, clearly those shapely and glistening black-skinned bodies require as much work as Western ones. Unlike us, however, the participants looked happy attempting physical perfection and even happier standing around afterwards chatting and drinking tea from thermoses or glasses of Bajan lemonade. It was very appealing.
Barbados, or at least the small part of it we have seen so far, is probably much as we expected, and similar to our image of a Pacific island with the obvious difference being that the people are West Indian of African (and slave) descent rather than Polynesian brown. The pace of life is slow, languid almost, but it is too hot to be otherwise. It reminds us of a time in New Zealand perhaps almost fifty years ago when the summers seemed long and hot with blue cloudless skies, when long grass lined country roads and, in the absence of footpaths, everyone shared the road, the only real disturbance now being the occasional boy racer (where is Clayton Cosgrove when you need him?). It is friendly, the locals all greet each other and extend the acknowledgement to strangers such as us and we reciprocate. This is a country where gay still means happy and Mount Gay Rum makes you very happy. The island is also home to whistling frogs which, given they are the size of a thumbnail, make an extraordinary racket, green monkeys, crabs, and the mongoose has been introduced for pest control.
Oistins, just down the road from Fleur’s house, was the place where the 1652 Barbados Charter was signed after the country’s Royalist House of Assembly refused to recognize Oliver Cromwell’s leadership following the execution of Charles I. After keeping 4,000 British troops at bay for six months agreement was reached; in return for continued self governance and free trade, obedience was pledged to Cromwell’s commonwealth government.
That, of course, is history, the tavern where the agreement was signed has long since disappeared and the place is now best known for its fish market and weekend fish fry-ups. The outdoor fish market is a hive (if that’s the right expression), of activity, the daily catch of red snapper, barracuda, flying fish, baby marlin, kingfish, swordfish and other beauties is gutted and filleted and then sold. Behind the market a jetty reaches out into the sea allowing fishing boats to come right in and unload and, although supposedly off limits, we walked out for what was to be a real treat. A nice Rasta boy (he doesn’t charge but does accept donations) threw fish scraps into the water attracting a school of about eight waiting turtles. These were big ones, up to about 3 foot in diameter and so we watched as they swam about enjoying their dinner. The fish scraps were as much a treat for us as them.
It is nice to be able to report that negotiations between the Barbados Workers Union and the telecommunications company LIME has been resolved through negotiations chaired by the nation’s prime minister, David Thompson. LIME has agreed, with immediate effect, to withdraw the letters of termination sent to about 100 workers on 30 July. Now there’s a useful prime minister.
Note: Access to the internet from Fleur’s apartment is limited to times when the neighbour downstairs turns on his/her unsecured wireless connection. Our unwitting host appears to take a cautious approach and so it the internet is turned on only occasionally. Consequently, our days are spent huddled over the netbooks waiting in anticipation with the result that our postings may be more limited than usual over the next month or so.