12th March 2017

    Loud gospel music greeted us in the morning from the house opposite, blasting out from a T.V. Then the Bajan woman in the house started singing along to it, and she was having a good old clear out of her lungs. Folks in this part of the world are quite religious.
    Our final full day in Barbados was going to be a "chill out on the beach" day. A toss of a coin decided Miami Beach to be the venue.
    We arrived early enough in the morning when there was still plenty of sunbeds available. Today would be a busy day; Bajans normally came down to the beaches on the weekends. After picking our space out and plonking our gear down, I wasted no time in getting into the sea for a good swim.

LPG Ship Pumping its Contents Ashore

    Still anchored off shore was the ship we had seen the evening before. It was still pumping its contents ashore, a steady drone of its pumps emanating from its depths.
    A stroll down the shore to the cliffs brought me close to a couple performing exercises on the beach, not Tai Chi, but the chap was doing a few Bruce Lee impressions. As I strolled back they caught up with me.
    "What were the exercises you were performing?" I asked.
    "Oh, I was doing some martial arts exercises, and the lady was carrying out exercises akin to Pilates. I used to teach self-defence to nurses at the local hospitals in Toronto, but I would never teach them martial arts." The chap was obviously one of the many thousands of Canadians visiting the island for a vacation. The lady asked me what I'd seen so far, causing me to launch off into a breakdown of our adventures to date.
    "You must visit St. Nicholas Abbey," I said.
    "Oh, I have been there lots of times," she laughed, "I have lived here for 40 years."
    We chatted a while discussing this and that, and of course we shared views on the President of their nearest neighbours. "Give him a year," quipped the chap.

Recovering After the Swimming

    The day was a series of swims and short sun-absorption periods. On one of my swims a decent way out around the other bay, I was alerted by a cry, "Hallo!" Then a few more shouts, "Hallo!" from the shore. I turned to see who they were shouting at; it was me they were trying to alert. A group of young Bajan lads lined a coral groin, and the largest in a yellow/green top was waving frantically to me. Was he the lifeguard telling me not to swim too far out? I soon cottoned on to the problem. Their football was bobbing its way out to sea, and they wanted me to retrieve it. I charged off at a higher gear, got my hands on it, and started to kick my legs. Now as far as swimming is concerned, I get 95% of my propulsion from my arms. Thus heading back to shore was a slow process. I noticed two of the lads standing in the shallows, and I attempted to throw the ball to them. Of course the length of a throw whilst treading water is nowhere near as good as on land, so the ball fell short. I charged after it again, and now clung on to it until I got close enough to the shore. The ball eventually found its way into the hands of the waiting lads, and off they went to resume their game. Bajans are not good swimmers, and are not keen to get out of their depth.
    I strolled back to Rex and Meryl. The beach was now packed, the hordes of Bajans having picnics spread before them that were veritable feasts. By mid-afternoon I was beached out. I think I am comfortable for about two hours on a beach, then boredom sets in. I was now getting that feeling I often get when travelling, once I have had my fair share of a place and exhausted all the opportunities, it's time to move on.
    Our final evening meal was at the Harlequin. The food and service is always spot on there: fish chowder followed by mahi-mahi cooked in a white wine sauce, with ginger rice and garlic mash for me. The bottle of Merlot hiked the bill somewhat, but hey, it was our last meal together on this lovely island. It was a most enjoyable meal too, with lots of laughs.