A Barbados thesis

Here I sit at Grantley Adams Airport in Barbados, awaiting a flight to Grenada, with the first of 3 Barbados stints over and both our Antiguan stints now a distant memory. Yeh I know, that opening was kinda gay. Whatever. Barbados is probably my favourite of the islands so far. Jamaica would definitely give it a run for its money, but given the daily death stares and my apparent “white” complexion, I’ll probably settle for Barbados. Less hustlers in Barbados too.

Essentially, it combines the developing and almost ‘third world’ aspects of the Caribbean, with a flourishing, urbanised and heavily tourist based majestic island. Except, there are too many poms living here, who clearly have had their spouse leave them, taking all their possessions too and are now hoping to start again on a remote island. Only problem is that they’ve brought their oafish Newcastle football mentality with them. Egads. In fact, such behaviour was exhibited at the Australia v England game when two moronic, stereotypical Arsenal football fans tried to take on two drunken Aussie dudes for no apparent reason. The security’s reaction to this encounter, for me, typifies the attitude of people in the Caribbean. Three security guards, seated approximately 15m away simply stood up, shouted something to the effect of “Hey. Stop it man”, then when they realised their words were fruitless, the security guards plonked back on their seats and returned to watching the cricket. Genius. Anyway, needless to say, the confrontation ended once I intervened.


The Bougainvillea. Our hotel in Barbados.


The streets of Barbados' north-east coast.

The day we arrived in Barbados, I had an epiphany. I realised that rum is cheaper than beer here. Almost everywhere. Why it had taken me almost three weeks to realise this, I don’t know. Not only will this aid in the prevention of the feared travel beer-gut, but also extend my renowned drinking ability, having the extra cash in the pocket. The only reasonably foreseeable issue is the fact that you can down a rum punch in approximately 11 seconds and before you can say, “Why are Sleepy Jackson so pretentious? I hope Luke Steel breaks his arm so they will stop playing music for good”, you’re more intoxicated than a Mortdale pub regular, after a night at the dog track.

Early on in our Barbados stint, we wondered up to a local rum shack where two locals were drinking. We soon discovered that it’s pretty much acceptable to serve your own drinks and leave the money on the counter – especially when the owner of the place was standing out the front flagging passing cars down – probably selling ganja. Of the two locals in the rum shack, one was pretty straight-up, but the other, Michael, was off his rocker. We could barely understand a word that came out of his mouth – and this had nothing to do with the accent. My ‘black radar’ managed to detect that, amidst his violently drunken slurring, he was using a large amount of local lingo, which of course, was completely foreign to me. He was fiercely trying to pour Mount Gay (haha ‘gay’…) rum down my throat and I was attempting to decline his kind offers, but he wasn’t backing down. I realised I was going to have to skull this large amount of rum, after his words, “C’mon man. Knock back de rum boy. You not soft are you man?”. Of course, I wouldn’t take this lying down so I replied in my feaux West Indian accent, “No, I ain’t no batty boy, man”. This was met with silence. “You know, I don’t put it in the batty hole, boy”, I continued. Still silence. Eventually, he put down the rum bottle and said, “What you talkin’ bout, man?”. My black credibility, once again, was out the window. Apparently the term, “batty boy” is only colloquial lingo in Jamaica – not many other islands. So, I put my tail between my legs, got up and poured myself a beer (well, actually a Breezer, but to maintain my masculinity I will omit this info). We later discovered that Michael was in jail for 5 years – and he wouldn’t tell us what for. So, it needn’t be said that for the remainder of the night, we all complied with his rum-skulling demands. I guess the lesson is to research island colloquialisms before attempting to use them. Especially when adopting the accent as well. Wiggity.


At the rum shack with our mate Michael.

During our Barbados stint we also took a day tour of the island. Not bad being able to drive around an entire nation in a few hours. Among snorkelling with turtles the size of Matthew Newton’s ego, consuming rum punches, eating dolphin (not me – Andy and Mick) and hurling abuse at arrogant South African tourists, we stopped at a district called St James. It’s basically Double Bay transplanted in the Caribbean. The only thing it’s missing is an assortment of intoxicated private school, country boarders stumbling out of the Sheaf, trying to keep their collars upright. We also came across this 75 year-old local rasta who claims to have invented a snorkel that allows you smoke a joint under water. As is procedure in these parts, he wanted a donation to allow us to view this revolutionary device, so unfortunately I can’t confirm its existence. But I can confirm that it’s not advisable to attempt to ride a catamaran while under the influence.

I know from experience dude. (“No, you don’t” / “No, no, no I don’t. But a guy I know – him and her got it on! Woo weeeee!” / “No, they didn’t” / “No, no they didn’t. But you could imagine what it’d be like. Huh?! Huh?! Huh!…NO YELLING ON THE BUS”….first person to correct answer what movie that was from wins a decrepit jar of Vicks Vapour rub)

Speaking of under the influence, we’ve been noticing that everyone in the Caribbean drinks and drives. Initially we thought that citizens simply broke the law, however we’ve since been informed that it’s actually not illegal on most islands. And the few islands on which it is illegal, despite having breath testers available, they’re used about as frequently as a Vanessa Amorossi CD (insert canned laughter). It’s practically as if you must have rum on your breath in order to be deemed roadworthy.


The rum punch orchestra. Right before jumping behind the wheel. Noice.

Other than rum, the locals have quite a penchant for the celebrated Irish stout, Guinness. Nobody is able to come up with an explanation for why it’s so popular in these parts, other than because the drink is black. Perhaps it’s why white rum isn’t as popular either. In fact, even the plastic bags from the supermarkets here are black – I’ll give anyone 100 Barbados dollars if they can find white plastic bags here. Ha. Racial. Comedy.

While I’m vaguely discussing reasonably trivial matters, I want to open the forum on a particular issue that has been close to my heart throughout my lifetime (yes, I realise that segue was fundamentally flawed, because if the issue was close to my heart, as stated, it wouldn’t be classified as trivial... But, I will press on, nevertheless). The issue at hand is that of the direction of the toilet paper roll. This matter presented itself at our hotel here in Barbados. Sharing accommodation with people inevitably opens itself up to compromises having to be made and group decisions agreed to. Normally, this is fine. However, in the case of the toilet paper roll, it’s my way or the highway. Every time a roll would end, I would ensure the roll was attached using my preferred method. However, I would later return to the bathroom to find the direction had been switched, meaning I would have to reverse the roll again. I will confront the group about this soon. Now, I’ve always been a supporter of the ‘backward’ or ‘under’ roll, where you pull the paper from the far side of the roll, and underneath and towards you. I do not condone the “forward” or “top” roll, where the paper comes over the top and it’s pulled from the side closest to the subject. There are many reasons why the latter method is problematic, but the main being that the ‘braking system’ is far more difficult when pulling a chunk of paper off the roll. In order to settle this, please leave a comment as to your preferred method, and if you wish, a brief rationale.

Next time on the blog, are you a scruncher or a folder?


The incorrect "forward" or "top" roll; and the "backward" or "under" roll.

Ok, back to Barbados. At some point, we also climbed aboard the Jolly Roger cruise for a day. The Jolly Roger is essentially a pirate-themed booze cruise. ‘Twas a very sweet day comprising rum punch; break dancing; walking the plank; watching skanky American students on spring break dry-rooting group of Poms in a manner that would normally be reserved for the Cock ‘n’ Bull Bondi Junction or Scruffy Murphy’s; on top of getting hit on by a middle-aged, newly-single, mid-western yank. I probably spent the final hour of the cruise trying to avoid eye contact with her (and then I realised, ‘oh wait, it’s just Soph Fegent,).


Walking the plank on the Jolly Roger cruise.


Play 'spot the spring break whore', upon the Jolly Roger, Barbados.


Andy overboard. Because he is white.

I should also add, that in stark contrast to Bathurst, the ratio here for the Cricket World Cup is roughly 7-1 guys to girls. So, if you were looking to pick up… try Latvia instead.

But, I can’t stress enough how passionate people here (i.e. locals) are about cricket. They even have a chatline that you can ring up and just talk to someone about the sport. Exactly like phonesex. It’s even charged by the minute. Just earlier, Dunny managed to weasel his way out of a minor customs dilemma by initiating a conversation about cricket with the customs officer and was passed right through. Similar to how young Bunto asks, “How ‘bout them doggies aye?”, when he finds himself in a spot of bother.

And yes, I did just say ‘spot of bother’.


No, I'm not a professional photographer. Yes, I know...heard it before. From our hotel in Barbados. Pre rum punches before a hot date with Dunny.


The legendary Gravy at Kensington Oval, Barbados.


A boat.


Well, for now, that’s my mumma (Symons, A. 2006. “A conversation”. Symcard Publications. Sydney). Until next time, I ain’t no batty boy.

Oh, and don’t forget – follow the hand of Gumby and ye shall see the light.

J