On my second last full day in Barbados, I returned to Speightstown, one of the first places I visited, the second largest city, and a twenty-minute drive from where I’m staying. Compared to Bridgetown, driving here is now simple.
I wanted to explore a bit of the southern end of town, which I had only driven through, and try a sketch of one of the town's main attractions - “The Fisherman’s Pub.” I had noticed this place on my first visit. A unique-looking bar, with some hand-painted signs, Barbados-themed colours, lots of plants out front, and some slightly cheesy historic photo prints hung on the building. The place seemed (and is) touristy when I first passed by, but after a few weeks here, I had it mentioned to me by multiple locals from different places on the island - particularly once I showed them some sketches of what I was doing.
The gardener I spoke with the other day - from the area of Speightstown - said it was one of the only places that survived all the pandemic shutdowns and one of the oldest bars in the area.
The folks from the East Coast Rum Shop also mentioned the Fisherman Pub. People I talked to in Bridgetown also referred to it. "You gotta draw that one" they said.
Perhaps this is one of those places that is just a pure overlap of local love and tourist appeal.
I can see why; the building is charming, the place has been around for closing in on 100 years, and it’s right by the sea. There are locals and tourists always walking in and out or socializing out front. It's right in the middle of town.
It’s also a long, crooked, weird building. There is a vacant/abandoned/condemned storefront across from it (with a boardwalk that is blocked off from the sidewalk) that has a nice overhang for some shade. I’m able to walk up here thanks to one opening, but literally, no one walks by this area as a result. It’s one of the first sketches where I don’t interact with anyone.
In fact, the only person I engage with is a street sweeper. He is literally sweeping the nearby street with a household broom. He chats with a few local passersby and also to himself. Earlier that morning, I had tossed about $15 of silver dollars into my backpack, hoping to be able to give it to someone, and this fellow seemed like the right person. “Excuse me, sir?” - he looks up - “For your work.”
“God bless you,” he says, taking the dollars.
“God bless you” - probably the first time I’ve used the expression, but the agnostic in me is happy to use the term for someone doing such righteous work.
I’m not quite able to finish the sketch on location. The afternoon grows late, multiple large trucks end up parked in front of the building, and rain appears imminent. I finish up the detailed colouring later on.
I’d spend the morning waiting to leave the house thanks to repeated rain storms. Once arriving in town, I walked to the city's southern outskirts, where I noticed multiple interesting little shops driving into the city. I take many photos of cute houses, some roosters posting up on a ruined couch, and a few small shops, most of which are fairly quiet on an early Saturday afternoon.
I walk up a few laneways running East - away from the sea - that looks charming. Plenty of chickens roam around, clucking as I approach. There are absolutely charming houses - complete with scripted names on them - next to vacant, abandoned, once-beautiful homes.
One woman - walking towards me - in a spiffy red dress and with a gold tooth - asks me if I’m lost - because I had walked past her, then doubled back once I reached the uninteresting busy road. “The buses are on that road,” she tells me.
“Oh, I’m not lost; I’m just wandering around,” I tell her. "I’ve been in Speightstown a few times already and in Barbados for three weeks."
"So you know your way around then!"
She’s going downtown shopping, I’m going back down the coast road looking for random shops. On my way back into town, I see her again on her way out. “You made it back!”
On the drive home, it pours rain. It’s “cool” outside when I arrive home. I actually put on light jogging pants for the first time. Bajans would call the day downright cold. It's probably 20 degrees out.
Perhaps Mother Nature is preparing me for the return to Canada.
