To continue the epic tale of our Caribbean vacation, I'll pick up from day 3. I acquired a really nasty sunburn on the backs of my legs, thanks to sunscreen getting rubbed off during surfing, but I pulled on a pair of linen pants (everyone should have a pair of billowy linen pants on a Caribbean vacation), and soldiered on. Danny and I hopped in a cab and visited the oldest synagogue in the Western hemisphere, which was in Bridgetown, the capital of Barbados. The building switched hands many times, going from law offices to a warehouse, and then it was scheduled for demolition. But it was saved by people who donated money to preserve its history, and the building now has a museum that presents some really nifty Portuguese and Brazilian Jewish history.
The really excellent part was when we wandered around the graveyard. Some of the graves had - get this - skulls and crossbones on them. Pirates! Rum-swilling pirates! Crazy Barbadian Jewish rum-swilling pirates! With hourglasses and cutlasses and things! And no one really knows what they mean! Of course, they could just be symbols of death imported from either Portuguese or integrated Portuguese-Brazilian culture, but they were super cool nonetheless. I mean, you always hear about the Jewish bankers and merchants being maligned for handling money (total bullshit because they were banned from holding land by the anti-Semitic powers that be so what were they supposed to do, anyway?), but you never hear about badass Jews who kicked butt, outside of the story of Chanukah and the Israeli military, that is.
Anyway, after we stared at the graves, took some pictures, shmoozed with the museum guy, and got a tip on where to eat a beautiful lunch, we decided to try to find Mount Gay Rum Distillery, which the oldest rum distillery on the island, if not the whole Caribbean. Most tourists take cabs. We decided to try public transportation. It was an enormous mistake. Let it be known that there are none, zip, zero, zilch, nada, no bus maps or even road maps of Barbados. First we got totally lost in Bridgetown. No one had any idea where we were trying to go. A policewoman told us to go to what we found out was the total opposite end of the island. After much wandering and worrying when a cry of "You white interlopers!" would echo down a street followed by a pistolwhipping and a mugging, we got in a cab and made it back to our hotel. We never did get to the Mount Gay Rum Distillery, which we kind of thought would be a huge joke, anyway.
(A random, somewhat socio-political commentary about Barbados: There is not as much open racism there, and possibly even less anti-Semitism. I wonder if it's because Barbados is populated primarily by people with darker skin who also hold positions of power, but I really have no idea why walking down the street feels safer. After all, the black Barbadian population were enslaved, just like American blacks. And I felt less trepidation asking a cab driver to take us to the old synagogue then I would have felt if I did the same thing in Virginia. Barbadians - black and white alike - take great pride in being independent from England, and the island itself is so small that perhaps country takes precedence over race...? No idea. But still interesting.)
Anyway, back to the scheduled discussion of rum-soaked vacation. In lieu of going on a tour of Mount Gay, we continued our highly scientific test of Barbadian rum and purchased Cockspur brand rum. The medium aged one was so good, Danny and I swilled it from the flask straight. (For the record, I now hate Bacardi. It is complete and total shit.) To accompany our rum, we got some chicken, locally grown tomatoes, some onions, a Bajan marinade, and some Bajan hot sauce. When we have the marinade decoded (it involved shallots, salt, pepper, marjoram, thyme, basil, onion, and garlic, I think), I'll post it here. Until then, the most I can do is tell you that all those herbs grilled on chicken were unbelievable, as was the hot sauce. There was a grill where we stayed, so we BBQ'd up a storm.
(I haven't mentioned it, but we did breakfast pretty much the same every day; we had a thing of nutella, some bread, cheese, tomatoes, kippers, local mangoes, milk, and juice. We combined everything in sane combinations - cheese, bread, and hot sauce = awesome - which did the trick, along with mango smoothies every morning.)
Our fourth day in Barbados, it mostly rained on and off. We took that day to laze around the apartment, watching the birds in the sea grape trees outside our balcony, and admiring how the sea changed color when the weather turned. It was a lovely lazy day culminating in a trip to Oistins in the evening for the Friday night fish fry. Oistins is the place to be if you're a fisherman or a fish eater. There's a fish market, and like 12 feet away is the fish fry. The fish fry is wonderful; rows of stalls of people selling fried or grilled fish in steaks, fillets, or whole, on plates loaded with rice and beans, macaroni pie (read: mac and cheese), and salad. Those are the pictures at the top of this post. I think the fish we ate was swimming a couple hours ago. Everyone goes on Friday nights, locals and tourists alike. The place really gets packed, and there's music and booze and dancing and stalls selling junk. It's definitely something to do if you go, but be aware that Barbados is where 80's dance and Michael Jackson music go to die. The local reggae is much better. After we ate, drank, checked out the junk being sold, and people watched to our hearts' content, we got back to our hotel and crashed hardcore, full of fish.
The next day we rented a car so we could drive through the island and check out the less developed east coast. The interior is beautiful, hilly sugar cane fields and some more wild areas. However, you do see where the less well-off live. There are small groups of houses, tiny and without foundations, cars up on blocks, and goats and chickens wandering around. To any tourist renting a car, do not stop for anyone for any reason. We got accosted by a man trying to turn a dollar as a tour guide. Danny stopped the car, and I started yelling at him, sure we'd get killed when he in his eternal brilliance opened the window. Luckily we didn't get killed, but don't stop. And don't open your bloody windows.
That being said, we found the place for our one big-ticket lunch, The Roundhouse. After some maniacal laughter about not being dead at the hands of possibly the only tourist-hating Bajan on the island, we noticed how awesome the view was. The food delicious (more grilled fish!), and wandering on the beach after we ate was perfect. The Atlantic side of the island has a very different character from the Caribbean. The ocean is rocky with big waves and very strong currents. It's more dramatic and sharp. We wandered along the coast, snapped some pictures of the interesting rock formations, and then drove back to our hotel, this time without harassment.
That was it for us. We packed up and got ready to return to reality. And of course, we finished up with one more curried goat roti and pineapple juice. The cab back to the airport the following day was uneventful. We endured a screaming child sitting immediately behind us for 4 hours. Happily, I resisted throwing him out an emergency exit. (I mean, I know children will scream, but the parents weren't handling it properly. The kid wanted attention and they gave it to him. It was really pathetic. I never want to have kids. They're monsters.)
But that was our trip. It was nice. I had a great time. I highly suggest surfing, Cockspur rum, mangoes, checking out the synagogue if that's your thing, roti, swimming, Oistins Friday night fish fry, and a trip to the east side of the island. Definitely do not stop for the dudes hustling tour gigs in the interior, and don't buy into people renting hovels for $45 a night. If I were going back, I'd spring for a fully A/C'd place to stay not because you need A/C, but because there are no screens and mosquitoes are an issue. If I had the dough, maybe I'd rent a car, but the reggae buses are kind of silly and much more fun. There was a bar, Mojo, right across from where we stayed. Nice people, good way to slowly enter into the Barbadian rhythm. They mix a good rum punch.
You should go. :)
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