Our Barbados holiday (Apr 23 - May 1, 1999)


Off we go

We left Vancouver Apr 23rd for Toronto staying overnight (Airport Holiday Inn, the best price available was on the web) and then flew to Barbados the next day via Air Transat (5hr flight) arriving in the evening. Cab to the resort, the Casuarina Beach Club, placed us there mid-evening just when an outdoor dinner floorshow of dancers and steel band was happening.

We decided to check out the beach first, coming back for dinner later. Beach was wonderful (just a few steps away) but we arrived back too late for dinner. In fact we had trouble getting anything served to eat (beware, eat between prescribed hours at Casuarina or starve). Finally, we were served some excellent roti’s, had a few rum punches and felt great.

Our first impression is this was just like Caribbean Beach at Disney World (I know, odd way of thinking).

Throughout the property we heard a tremendous amount of chirping which we found out was from tiny frogs, about the size of your thumb, that serenade all night long (seemed so unreal, it was like what Disney would pipe in). The frogs as well as geckos are well hidden among the plants, but could be seen at times on the building walls.

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View from our room
Day 1, Sunday

Boogie boarding in the surf

The ocean is wonderful shades of turquoise, with rolling waves and is lovely and warm. The sand is white, soft and never feels hot. We felt that our beach at the Casuarina Hotel was the nicest on the south coast, by far. One of the reasons why we chose this hotel, was because of the lush foliage on the beach and around the hotel, and we weren’t disappointed. The other hotels looked and felt hot and deserty, no matter how beautifully appointed they were.

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Part of the hotel garden grounds
Day 2, Monday

Another reason why we chose this hotel, was for the different seminars and activities that were offered. A real highlight of the trip for me (Paula) was a reading of West Indian poetry by Greg Castagne. It sounds like a funny thing to do on a holiday, but imagine sitting in a garden, with the trade winds blowing, drinking tea and listening to true artist read poems and narratives the way they were meant to be read, with the West Indian dialects, and offering insights into the culture and politics of the region. Fascinating.

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a pretty picture
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