Thanks for seein' about a girl, friend. here's where I'm writing my own history—for you, for me and anyone else who needs to laugh to keep from cryin' every once in awhile.

My Somewhere Beyond the Sea

Barbados.

I'm not even sure where or how I should begin other than to tell you that if you haven't already been, stop playing and go. I went with my friend, CO. Here are some starter reasons why you should:

B is for beaches.

They're plentiful, public and clean. You can catch some waves if you wanna, or you can wade, relax and set adrift on memory bliss. It's an island; they're everywhere and they're not ridiculously crowded. From Bridgetown to Bathsheba, you're guaranteed to find a beach that's just waiting for your bum.

Also, do I need to tell you that the water is beyond beautiful to behold?!

A is for the al-al-al-al, uh alcohol.

There are no blames to be placed. Y'all knew I was not even fidna go to the alleged birthplace of rum and not relieve myself of every thirst I've ever had. Mount Gay. You can sip it or  you can shoot it, but you best drank it. Preferably in the ubiquitous, but oh-so-worth-upholding-the-cliché rum punch.

NOTE: If'n you find yourself buying rum punch that's sold in a regular looking 2-liter bottle, please buy some kind of fruit juice to accompany it as it is certifiable, a-roe-ho-ho jet fuel. I ain't even gonna play you. I don't recall what its name is (stop laughing), but it looks non-descript and slightly sketch. It's safe to imbibe and all, but you will need both Octavia Spencer and Viola Davis to help you if'n you drank that stuff by itself. At the very least, getcho self some ice. Otherwise, feel free to repeat after me: You is druuuuunk. You feel hiiiiiiiigh. Shit is potent.

As always when it comes to beverages, double fists are optional. I'd advise against it here though, mainly because you need to leave a limb available to get down with the grub (see the subheading that starts with the letter D below).

Resort life rocks.

There are no shortages of places to stay, but if you want to feel like you're at home, and all of your neighbors are super helpful, chill, fun-loving, non-judgmental and cool, then you should stay at the Ocean Two. It's at the very end of St. Lawrence Gap, which is where everybody and their grandaddy will tell you you need to go if you're looking to party. You can hit the crowds if you want to, but you're more inclined to find me up in any one of these places:

The staff. I know they're in the hospitality business, and I know Bajans have the (rightful) reputation of being some of the friendliest folks on Earth, but Khadijah, Candice, Jeffrey, Curtis, oh-my-god-I-feel-like-I'm-giving-an-awards-acceptance-speech-and-forgot-everyone's-names-I'm-so-sorry! and the whole glorious crew throw you the kitchen sink of welcomes. Charming, helpful, polite, patient and professional, they anticipated all of our whims, and booked us super fun excursions, delicious, low-key meals and access to fun and sincere and sincerely fun locals.

Don't worry, Ocean Two is not close enough to engage any of the Gap's ruckus directly; it's a leisurely stroll to the party scene. But the location cannot be beat--you're a short walk from a market where you can stock up on necessities and snacks ... snacks that you can then enjoy or whip up into something substantial in the fully-equipped, lovely kitchen that lives in your suite for instance. I'm sure plenty of other places equip their kitchens;  it's just that the blender and convection oven were really fine touches. Especially when I think about us being budget friendly travelers.

You're also a short stroll from any public transportation options, although the front desk folks will happily call the ever-ready and courteous Dee's Taxi Service for you, or trusty Winston in the white Toyota wagon. CO and I did a good mix of walking, public transporting and taxi-riding. The currency rate was $2 BBD to $1 USD, but we still opted for public transportation whenever possible--not just to cut costs, but also to get a better sense of the everyday Bajans going about their business. (I will warn you now that if you get on a bus going towards Sam Lord's Castle, and your driver looks like Aaron Hall with a P. Diddy toothpick in his mouth, you are in for a ride. Like Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban's night bus kind of ride--bompy and puh-lenty of brakes.)

Bajans are benevolent people.

During the crazy, way crowded, very bompy bus ride, we witnessed an event that, for me, really sealed my affection for the island. A blind man--bless his heart I don't know how he could tell where we were traveling at those stop-and-blitz speeds--called out to Sir Leadfoot that his stop was coming up. He told him the color of the house, and the bus driver missed it, so everybody on the bus called out to tell him to stop. Then everyone made way by either moving to the back of the bus, or getting off entirely, so the blind man could exit. One man took his arm and led him down the steps and then, in a sight you will be hard-pressed to see in Philly, this stranger walked that man to his front door ... and the bus driver waited, seemingly taking a break from his semi-flummoxed attitude. We all waited. No one looked around with WTF eyeballs, or sighed out loud, or fussed in the slightest. In fact we all watched the old man feel his porch posts with assurance as he strode to the door, took out his key and waved goodbye, undoubtedly happy to be home (or at least on non-screeching ground).

Sure it looks like paradise almost every day, so it'd be relatively easy to say that's why everyone's so friendly, but the pace of life there and their commitment to maintain that pace made me feel so comfortable almost instantly. They converse, gaze and live in a Golden Rule kind of way; putting good things out into the world and relishing the abundance of returns.

I tried to bring that back home. Honest I did, but it only took less that 12 hours for some stank, triflin', loud-talkin' woman to verbally assail me through my car window, and I really had to wonder what the hell I needed to do to get some Bajan citizenship. I could sell coconuts. I know I could.

Also, everywhere you go, ladies, someone will tell you that you're beautiful. I'mma tell you that it does something mighty to your ego to be called beautiful errywhere you go ... all the time. And it wasn't the irksome, nasty, seedy sounding "Hey beautiful shawty" either. It was downright cheery and courtly. Even if he looked like a ragamuffin and you side-eyed him into oblivion, the men kept it respectful and nice. I spent the first week back here looking at dudes like they'd lost their minds and lines of sight, like, how you just gonna walk past me and not recognize all this beauty? It's a free offering, yo. Sheesh. Free yo' mindz!

Align yourself with the people.

So I already told you about the beauty of taking buses and cabs and welcoming recommendations from the friendly, knowledgeable staff. I'm also going to advise you about taking an Island Safari tour. You definitely should try to do that so you gain a sense of the lay of the land. It's a small enough island to make a grand sweep so I hope you wind up in the jeep with Aaron as your guide. I hope I spelled his name correctly, but if I didn't, you'll know him because he's the most popular guide. All the other guides gather around Aaron at each of the stops, and while you're on the road, he proves to be the funniest and the most insightful. He also gives you flowers ... and rum punch.

So now I'm going to tell you that you'll be on vacation, so you can do whatever you want, but many, if not all, people are going to tell you that you have to go to Oistins if it's Friday night. All the websites say so. The locals will say it so often, you'll never doubt it's a good time; they'll say it so often, you'll probably start to wonder if they're lying to you. I have no idea if they are or not, because I didn't go.

Unclasp the gasps from your mouths, because I know. Bad tourist.

CO and I didn't make it to Oistins for a couple of reasons. One, everyone who'd told us to go to the Gap on Thursday night became instant suspects after we dolled ourselves up and then found ourselves surrounded by teens and techno beats. These same people told us about Oistins, and my too-old-to-go-out-wearing-K-Swiss-and-Daisy-Dukes self could not be bothered. The other reason was the swim-up pool ... and Jeffrey ... and the rum punch.

And if you're thinking this was a let-down, you're wrong. I'm sure Oistins was bangin'. When I go back to Barbados, I'll be sure to check it out because I love a block party and street food. Plus, the locals really do go there and the tourists follow and everything is easy breezy. But while I recognize myself as a tourist, I don't always aspire to be the textbook tourist. I like a little unscripted adventure. I'm also nosy and wanted to know where people who were not going to Oistins were headed, so I found out.

I also drank two glasses of the jet fuel prior to finding out, so I'mma go Congressional on you--instead of confessional--and let you know that I don't readily or rightly recall what all had happened was, but you understand me when I tell you I'm trying to go back, right?

Okay then.

Dig into the delicious food!

As in Mr. Delicious, that is.

Yo. The flying fish is the fish of choice when you're in Barbados. It comes any way you want it, but the most popular version is the fried fish sammich, or the cutter. I sampled me some cutter everywhere I could, and Mr. Delicious wins. Do I also need to tell you that he sells rum punch?

See why I told you not to double fist the punch? Grub 'n chug friends, grub 'n chug.

Mr. Delicious is located on Miami Beach, the vice-free location. This beach is also a short stroll from the other place I recommend you stay, Little Arches. CO, being a travel agent and all, secured us a delightful tour. Quaint and intimate, I tried to move in immediately. Like, I love Ocean Two; I felt like I could stay there forever, but I honestly thought I could live at Little Arches. Only 10 rooms, you feel like you're in a super secluded, quiet nook that was built just to relax and nourish you. They also have a roof-top restaurant. If you don't know me by now you needs to know I love me some rooftop/roofdeck atmosphere. Period.

Oh my gyah, do these people love them some karaoke!

They love it so much that I wanna see them in a sing off with Japan. Apparently Simon Cowell has a lovely property on the island. I am sensing that it is far, far away from the karaoke establishments I visited and/or walked past. Actually, I'm genuinely stunned he could live on an island where this kind of unbridled, possibly rum-infected enthusiasm can course its way through an amplifier. Hilarious to hear, sober or otherwise, it's amazing to witness someone give Englebert Humperdink their very all. Add it to your bucket list.

Stop playing, contact my girl CO at Travel Fanatics Vacations and just go!

You can thank me in rum punch.

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