19th January 2019

We are now fully settled into the ship’s routine of entertainment and mealtimes, supplementing it with visits to the cabin, gym, and deck. Of course, we have the flexibility to eat whenever we wish, skip an activity, or even reconsider a club or group we initially dismissed, whether for being too energetic (Zumba), uninteresting (Bridge), or beyond our abilities (dance/choir). Fortunately, there are plenty of alternatives, but it seems human nature to find ways of enjoying oneself without too much effort, and we have certainly managed that. It is a long cruise, though, and you never know, we might yet sign up for amateur dramatics or even meet Bill W. We have six sea days to fill before reaching Barbados!

Today was particularly significant as the Palmer clan welcomed a new family member, Harry, a sandy-coloured greyhound, who arrived in Rothwell. It was noted that he bears the family nose, so he should have no trouble fitting in!

On our second sea day (13th January), the ocean seemed to take its cue from the sun and was on its best behaviour. Warm blue skies emerged from the blustery grey days of our passage from Europe, while the water’s surface undulated gently, like a blueberry jelly, mercifully free of any random creamy topping to catch the eye. There was no sign of wildlife, either in the sea or the air, just the occasional small, amorphous bits of brown flotsam seemingly in a hurry to speed aft. Not even another ship in sight. The onboard interactive map shows us following the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, roughly halfway across this vast expanse of water.

Lemming-like, passengers flocked to the newly available sunbeds. One brave lady even ventured into the pool for a swim, perhaps testing the water for the presence of any lurking killer whales, but no one followed her. Sue and I stuck to our usual routine, appreciating the extra seating now available for those not quite ready to ‘tan up’ this early in the adventure.

On the 15th, I spoke to Sarah through the miracle of the internet. She had some bad news regarding their house move, which should have taken place last Monday. It turns out their vendor is selling two properties to fund their onward purchase, but unfortunately, the other property has a limited title deed that must be removed before the sale can proceed.

Meanwhile, the buyer of Sarah and Lee’s house has already exchanged contracts on his own sale, leaving him potentially homeless if the issue isn’t resolved quickly. Last-minute problems in house moves are to be expected, but they can still be quite traumatic for all involved. I have every confidence that the solicitors will rise to the occasion and sort out a mess they should have spotted and addressed a month ago. They now have a week to do so.

Back on board, the daily temperature has risen to 20 degrees, and we enjoyed our first BBQ on deck. Sue tucked in with gusto, but I had just returned, hot from the gym, and settled for my usual fare from the salad buffet. Despite the usual activities being available, sunbathing seems to be the most popular pastime; most passengers appear to asleep through the day. Sue and I soldier on with our daily selection of ‘things to do’, although we have now taken to playing Scrabble on deck rather than in the air-conditioned games room. As an elderly gentleman remarked to me at the coffee machine, “Life can be tough at times.” I agreed. “There aren’t many of us who can cope with such hardship!”

Oddly, our morning activities on the 17th were interrupted by a second lifeboat drill. We’ve never had two of these on a cruise before, nor have any of our fellow mariners, who stood dutifully on deck, roasting under a searing sun. Though the sea we are skimming through looks calm, blue, and inviting, and according to the ship’s newspaper, it is now quite warm, I hope our captain is simply being overcautious. I’d rather not discover that the crew are secretly battling an iceberg strike below the waterline. I have no desire to verify the editor’s accuracy on sea conditions in person!

“Land ahoy!” was the cry Columbus heard when Barbados, then uncharted, was first sighted over 400 years ago. On the 18th, the cruise ship Columbus slipped quietly into Bridgetown (formerly James Town), taking its place alongside the dock among four other cruise ships already moored. Lying opposite the P&O Britannia, we seemed positively dwarfed in comparison, but with the much more petite Fred Olsen Braemar astern, we at least had bragging rights over one set of fellow cruisers we might meet on shore.

The day was ideal, with little puffs of cloud sliding across a blue backdrop, occasionally dimming what initially seemed to be a warm and friendly yellow sun. However, as the day progressed, it would prove to be more akin to an open oven door, not quite so friendly after all.

After breakfast, we left the ship and joined the thin line of rucksack-clad evacuees filtering into the crammed dock terminal, most seemingly intent on logging onto the WiFi. We joined them. Charlotte was online, so we chatted for a while, catching up on family news before rejoining the line of escapees. First, we navigated through a throng of eager taxi drivers keen to ferry us off to various sights, but we declined their offers.

Our walk into the town centre and its most popular tourist spot, Broad Street, took about 30 minutes with occasional stops, the longest at the fish market, where we watched boats being unloaded, their catch consisting mainly of tuna. One fish, in particular, measured at least two metres long.

It was intensely hot, so ducking into shops to browse their merchandise became more about survival than shopping. Air conditioning can be a lifesaver at times. At the far end of the crowded street stood St Mary’s Church, and we decided to investigate its cool interior. The front and side gates were locked and chained, but after a further circumnavigation, we found the rear gates slightly ajar and a gardener busy with his work. He said nothing as we walked past, and upon finding the church door open, we stepped inside.

It was a pleasant enough church, simple, unpretentious, and clearly well-used, though not particularly well-maintained. After taking a few photos, wandering around, and resting our hot feet for a while, we braced ourselves for the furnace outside once more. Our next stop was to seek out and photograph the town’s two central bridges, the very reason for its name: Bridgetown.

This location is the centre of tourist activity, as it sits at the end of Broad Street, drawing in those keen on shopping. Just a few hundred metres away, a local beach of white coral sand attracts cruise passengers eager for sunnier pursuits, many passing through clutching towels and suncream. Capitalising on the steady flow of visitors, bars, gift shops, and traders selling art and souvenirs have set up stalls along the bridge itself.

We had a brief wander to see what was on offer before purchasing tickets to the very impressive English-style Barbados Parliament.

Our visit began at the Museum of Parliament, which charts the island’s journey to democracy. It is home to the third-oldest parliament in the Commonwealth. From there, we proceeded to the National Heroes Gallery, where ten individuals were honoured for their contributions to Barbados. I found Garfield Sobers the most interesting. I’ve rather gone off politicians!

Next, we joined a guided tour of the debating chamber and then the Senate. Given the island’s history, it was no surprise to find them exact replicas of the British Parliament. One can only hope their representatives are less self-interested and deceitful than ours.

Fully politicised, we set off in search of Saint Michael’s Cathedral. It wasn’t far, just a few (hot-footed) minutes’ walk away. As with St. Mary’s, all the usual gated entrances were locked, barring entry. However, after another circumnavigation, we found an open gateway, only to be met by a sign stating that the building was closed for repairs. Visitors were welcome to explore the grounds, but we had been hoping for the shade and cool of the interior, not the relentless heat radiating off gravestones and concrete.

We returned to Broad Street, where Sue picked up a Christmas bauble she had spotted earlier, before making our way back towards the bridges. A quick detour took us through the main outdoor market, which had clearly seen better days. Apart from a few fruit and vegetable stalls, it seemed to consist mainly of run-down bar shacks, their tired exteriors matched by the weary expressions of the local patrons. It was a stark contrast to the lively tourist shops clustered along the little harbour on the other side of the bridge, a visible divide between the haves and the have-nots.

I bought a T-shirt before guiltily dropping my change into the outstretched cup of a beggar crouched patiently on the bridge.

The beach was just a short walk away, and that’s where we headed next. It was busy, but there were still plenty of sunbeds and umbrellas available. We could easily spot our fellow passengers from Columbus by their distinctive blue and white striped bath towels.

The brilliant white coral sand, a trademark of the Caribbean, was cool underfoot yet acted as a powerful reflector of the sun’s heat. Before long, our leisurely amble along the shore, weaving between beached jet skis and sunbathers slowly toasting in the midday sun, began to take its toll. Wading through the surf offered some relief, but without swimwear or towels, we were fighting a losing battle against the rising heat.

After about 40 minutes, we left the beach to those better prepared and made our way along the boardwalk, drawn towards the sanctuary of our metal home for the next couple of months. On the way, we stopped to pick up drinks at a supermarket before visiting the Pelican Art Centre, conveniently located just outside the cruise terminal.

We hurried back to our cabin for some cooling drinks and to drop off the bags we had managed to fill during our foray into Bridgetown. Then, after a brief respite, we disembarked once more, returning to the WiFi inside the cruise terminal, with many passengers from other ships, to catch up on emails and messages.

At 5:30 p.m., Columbus slipped away from the port.

Many of our fellow cruisers had spent the day on guided tours exploring different parts of the island, while others who had visited before had opted for local transport to revisit their favourite spots. We, however, had chosen to experience Barbados on our own terms, immersing ourselves in its capital and forming our own impressions of its culture.

Would we visit again? Yes.