The Caribbean. Ever since I was a child, listening to the tales of my seafaring father, or browsing through his stamp collection, the Caribbean has held a special place in my mind. Some sort of magic place in the sun with endless white beaches and coconut palms; reggae playing softly in the background.

Alas, in the way of many youthful memories the reality is not quite the same.

Jamaica

We are coming into Montago Bay, Jamaica, the first of four Caribbean islands we are to visit before the long trek across the Atlantic.

Entering Montago Bay, Jamaica with high expectations;
reflections of the early morning sun across the calm water of the bay.

The bourganvillea gets us off to a good start

Amazing how this huge ship turns on a sixpence in front of some up-market tourist accommodation

Entering the cavernous cruise port building, we find it nearly empty. The hop-on-hop-off bus stand is deserted and we are left with the option to walk the two kilometers to Montago bay or use the shuttle provided by the ship. The walk is not an option so we sign up for the shuttle.

The gravel voice of the driver glides us past swish hotels and the international airport before depositing us at the “Rose Hill Shopping Centre”. This is a tourist only facility basically in the middle of nowhere much, and a five minute circuit sees us back on the bus. Not our thing! I can’t imagine that any of the locals would frequent such a place.

This beach looks promising, but where are all the people?

The poincianas remind us that we live in a place like this. The vegetation is all so familiar!

Back on the bus and down to the Hip-Strip, the famous beach area of Montago Bay. We are dropped outside a pay booth … the entry to the beach, but decide to walk down the street instead, past a few desultory shop keepers extolling their wares until we reach Margaritaville, supposedly a famous Jamaica Bar. Mmmm …

Margaritaville, a landmark on the Hip-Stip of Montage Bay

Oh well … give it a try … we ask for a coffee. “Not ready … you can get one across the street” is the response. Oh well, across the street it is. Everywhere feels a bit deserted and we wonder where all the people are.

I wonder what pan chickens are?

We walk further along the strip looking for the craft market which alas never appeared. It all seems rather run down somehow. What are we expecting? Well, I suppose the image is of white beaches and palm trees swaying in the breeze … wait a minute … this sounds a lot like home. Hey ho!

We leave Jamaica as the sun sets.

Curaçao

Curacao (pronounced Cure-a-soh) is part of the Dutch Antilies and seems to have faired better under that regime.
The island lies just off the north coast of Venezuala and is quite different in character to Jamaica. The Dutch influence in the main town of Willemstad is very obvious.

Tourist shops in the first arcade sell delftware

Most of the market stalls sell clothes – always popular.

Curacao is known for the pastel colours of the buildings. Some ruler or another said they didn’t like bright colours! This building dates from 1708.

Like many of the Caribbean islands, the economy of this island was based on the slave trade. Many of the population now reflect that past.

Taking a rest

Like so many places in the world, the big multi-nationals are taking over. KFC, Subway, Pizza Hut, Burger King. This is, after all, Americas playground!

Everyone loves their selfies!

These days there are not too many slaves around and so these islands are firmly wedded to tourism. The cruise ships that visit regularly are vital to their prosperity.

There are a few buskers around.

I love these little flying things …

A popular image of island life

… another popular image of the Caribbean

Curacao seemed to be much more alive and civic pride was obvious after the seeming poverty of Jamaica.

Civic pride reflected in their number plates.

Aruba

Aruba is another of the islands of the Dutch Antilies but lacks a slave trade past. The island is very dry and nowadays uses desalination widely for their drinking water. Again the economy is dependant on tourism, but the recent discovery of oil will probably change all that. The island is only twenty kilometers from the coast of Venezuela, one of the worlds biggest oil producers.

The island boasts a vibrant and socially sensitive economy with plenty of jobs and good educational opportunities. As a result the population has arrived from all over the world. ‘Aruba is a happy island’ proclaim all the banners around it’s capital Oranjestad.

Happiness is everywhere they say!

The skyline of the city is dominated by a beautiful bridge spanning the river.

There are two sorts of local busses. This sort has no windows and very loud music.

There seems to be a slight revolt against the pastel colours on this island

We walk through the backblocks and find some not quite so prosperous buildings. It seems that there are always those who get left out when prosperity arrives.

Someone came out of this house as we passed.

Bit of TLC needed here I think.

We find this church dedicated to St Francis

Inside the church of St Francis

Everywhere you look people are staring at their phones.

Justice is blind here too, it seems!

I couldn’t work this one out at all …

Walking back though the main tourist area we can’t work our who is actually getting the money. The image arises of sucking money tubes which whisk the money off to those tax havens we have been hearing so much about lately. Can’t really imagine any of the locals shopping here.

The money suckers start here …

… and again

… more still

… still more

… and another

… and so they go on

The whole collection seem to be here – might as well be in Europe.

However, it’s a very pleasant place to stroll around and we wander through the town centre before returning to the ship for lunch.

They do seem to have a blue horse thing going here …

The Dutch influence is here too …

Barbados

The last stop on our sweep through the Caribbean is Bridgetown, Barbados, and since it is almost a part of England we should at least be able to understand what they are saying. We decide that this is the place to take a tour to look around the island and so we board a local minibus tour outside the port for a twenty dollar, three and a half hour ride.

Approaching Barbados in the early morning, the pilot boat comes along side.

I just love the way the tugs dance around the ship. They have nothing to do in these days of highly manoeuvrable ships so they just enjoy themselves to make up for it.

This says it all … another of those magic names.

Off we go around the island on an obviously well trodden path. Having been claimed by the English, the island is solidly Anglican. First stop St James Church, the oldest on the island.

Very different architecture here. Small houses (tiny by our standards) are the norm.

Some don’t make it though …

All very Anglican.

Beautiful inside

The keeper of the church and the requestor of donations

Off up into the middle of the island we go; a glance at the monkeys on the golf course; a pause next to the exclusive hotel where Tiger Woods got married and up into the sugar cane covered highlands for the panoramic views.

The Atlantic coast from the highland adventure kiosk

I know … it’s an old joke, but I still quite like it. Rain, or lack of it, is a major issue on this island too.

Up in the highlands, living is difficult. The authorities provide water tanks on the street so that the locals can fill their buckets. That’s pretty serious!

Next stop is St Johns church, high up on the cliffs above the Atlantic coast.

This church seems to have ad a pretty checkered history. The locals, however, can be pretty persistent.

Henry Francis Hart seems to have died in 1876 and again in 1916. Good trick that!

Beautiful organ …

In the graveyard this seat was used once too often …

Before we board the ship, one last reminder that this was once part of the Empire …

And so our sojourn in the Caribbean (at last I have learned how to spell Caribbean) comes to an end and we are faced with six sea days in a row as we cross the Atlantic Ocean and make for our next port of call, Tenerife in the Canary Islands. Here’s hoping for a smooth crossing. I wonder what we will do with ourselves.

Enjoy 🙂
Alan.