Blackbeard jam

Where I left off yesterday we had done very little all day, but in the evening it got a little more interesting. It was the manager's cocktail party and barbeque, to which we turned up as there were free rum punches. Got talking to a jolly nice accountant from Cardiff called Alex and his wife (considerably more interesting and fun than him) Liz. They were, we judged, somewhere indeterminately in their 60s, and had two grown up children, one of whom is in Toronto with Canadian wife and three children. Liz told us in all seriousness that we should discourage, to the point of active subterfuge, any foreign potential partners for our children on account of the likelihood of them pushing off overseas, rarely to be seen again. They had a chap called John in tow, who was on his last night here. He was another person of A Certain Age, and it turned out that he had been coming here for 12 years with his wife but that she had Gone West recently and he had come back on his own. Entirely sure that this was bad for his general well being and not the sort of thing I'd do, but on the other hand he obviously knew the place and, over dinner with the other four of us, invited to a jam session at a place called Blackbeard's in Holetown down the coast. We duly got a taxi and went, and it turned out to be a fun evening. Some old dudes and a couple of younger ones playing blues and rock standards. A good lead guitarist but sady no bass. Struck me as slightly ironic listening to a bunch of old white guys playing Bob Marley covers in Barbados. Got back at midnight, which seemed terribly late. 

 

Found out today that Barbados was settled by the English in 1625, which makes it one of the very first outposts of empire. It had over 300 years of government from London, and was the only Caribbean island never to change hands. It also has the oldest synagogue in the western hemisphere. Interesting, eh? It is quaint and English in some ways, with imperial units, parishes and Anglican churches, but still very Caribbean. I like it a lot. 

 

Today we had the usual torpid morning and decided on the spur of the moment at about 3 (having missed lunch through not knowing what time it was) to get the reggae bus to Holetown and check it out - the decision was partially due to me having swollen ankles and us deciding that it was due to indolence and inertia. The bus ride was great - they live up to their name, with the music turned up to ear bleeding volume - and it's only $2 for any journey length. On the way there lots of immaculately turned out school children got on, and on the way back it seemed to be a collection of professionally dressed and very traditionally-built Bajan women. On the way we were overtaken in an enthusiastic manner by another reggae bus, more modern than ours, which was the only bus I have ever seen with a spoiler on it. 

 

Holetown (originally Jamestown and site of the first settlement) is not hugely exciting - a collection of very posh shops catering to the rich tourists and some more down-to-earth bars. We bought some bits and pieces from a souvenir shop and then had a couple of cold beers in a splendid bar on the beach. That was the point when we decided we had acclimatised, liked the place and wanted to stay longer than Saturday.

 

Hungry due to lack of lunch we hit the restaurant early and had another excellent meal. C had a thing for afters which she thought was amazing but actually tasted exactly like one of those hideous Reese's peanut butter cups Americans like so much. I had duck, my first non-fish meal of the week. It was good, but I kind of missed the mahi-mahi.