Boston and back via Honolulu, Trinidad and Barbados

[Platy]

Harvard Medical School (green scrubs and pizza)

I check out of the Hilton and take a taxi the 15 minute drive south to the Longwood Medical area to search out my long lost university supervisor/professor who scarpered from Brisbane at the drop of a hat when the chance of working at an infamous institution was dangled in front of his ambitious nature. I am to stay in his apartment with him and his wife for the next few weeks, whilst we turbo charge my neglected research project.

Apart from the famous old building you see in all the photos and movies emblazoned Harvard Medical School (http://www.art.com/asp/sp-asp/_/pd--10287210/sp--A/Harvard_Medical_School_Boston_Massachusetts.htm), the area proves to be a ragtag of modern research buildings, offices and hospitals (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Longwood_Medical_and_Academic_Area). Conveniently, his apartment is next door to his work and there is an agreeable Italian eaterie on the adjacent street to supply my lunch time appetite.

I am amazed to find the local medics love to prance around outside in their lurid green scrubs as they hustle off to work, duck out for a coffee at the local Starbucks across the street or pick up a table top sized pizza from the Italian.

That whole week is surreal with the ongoing blur of jetlag, weekend partying, long days in the department and need to exercise and demonstrate at least some degree of erudition. I sleep mostly from 11pm-2am and then 4am-9am, meeting the Prof in the middle of night when we both can’t sleep either to pontificate on matters cerebral or watch old Charles Bronson movies on cable TV.

I am more lucid in the second week and fortunately leave feeling that much work has been accomplished in working weeks despite the continued social adventures on the weekends. My project is back on track after a couple of weeks of 12 hour working days in the department!

 

[Platy]

Downtown Boston (legal seafood if they can be bothered to honour your booking)

I decide I like Boston. It is easy to walk places, the atmosphere is relaxed and friendly, many people are smart and happy to share their intellect in a town with scores of schools and universities.

On the Saturday, Prof, his wife and I walk up the “Fens” to the midtown shopping area of Back Bay. With Levi 501s already secured in the Ala Moana Mall, Waikiki, my mind turns to replacing my dilapidated ASICS Kayano running shoes for a fraction of the $250 Aussie price point and I have so far spotted prices in the $99-$135 range.

A block way is the infamous Newbury St offers boutique shopping and a variety of eateries (http://www.newbury-st.com/), whilst a block the other way is the upmarket shopping mall of the Prudential Centre (http://www.prudentialcenter.com/), offering various retail outlets, a food court and department stores including Saks.

We walk on northwards across Boston Common and onto the Financial District past absurd bicycle style paddle boats adorned with giant swans (http://www.swanboats.com/new/welcome.shtml). The plan is to sample a late lunch that ubiquitous Bostonian institution, Legal Seafoods, who own numerous outlets across town (http://www.legalseafoods.com/). Their waterfront venue at Long Wharf is teeming so we leave our names for a table and agree to return in 30 minutes, just enough time for, you guessed it, a Sam Adams summer ale at the Long Wharf open air bar called the Landing (http://www.bostonharborcruises.com/the-landing-at-long-wharf.aspx.).

We return to Legal Seafoods bang on the 30 minutes agreed only to find that “our table” had been promptly re-assigned on the basis we weren’t there just the instant it became available. Clearly when you have streams of folk walking past with growling tummies, you don’t bother honouring bookings made especially when you assume that your disappointed (non) customers are tourists who won’t be back in town and won’t impact on your reputation or business.

But gentle readers, beware, despite the Legal Seafoods reputation for excellence in preparing fresh seafood, their respect for myself and party left us all fuming and indignant. As a consequence I would not recommend them!

We find an agreeable alternative around the corner (whose name I have forgotten) which is pleasant, but with limited lunch menu and slightly over-priced wine is acceptable yet forgettable.

 

[Platy]

Boston salsa and contemporary art scenes (literally cruising)

I have managed to learn just enough latin dance steps to get by at entry level. The beauty of the latin dance scene is that it is mostly frequented by locals, so when you live in a tourist and student town like Cairns there’s fair chance that the people you meet might actually live there. Thus the idea of embarking on the Friday night Boston Salsa Cruise seems like fun and a chance to meet locals rather than tourists or fellow visitors. These cruises run on alternate Thursdays and Sundays through the summer (http://salsaboston.com/cruise/) and can muster from 150-300 folk eager to strut their stuff and waggle their thighs and hips.

The event doesn’t disappoint and I am soon in the swing of chatting to all and sundry, playing up shamelessly on being from Australia whilst muttering about crocodiles on beaches, kangaroos in the garden, oh yes, and our local Cuban salsa teacher as if that explained why my novice steps differed from the gyrating complex turns taught in the local dance academies of Boston.

It is a fine warm evening and the cruise boat chugs around the harbour entrance, for a while towards the airport to the north of the city centre so a stream of MD80s and 757s scream past above the cruise boat banking sharply after take off to avoid the city, momentarily distracting me from the task at hand of combining chit chat and basic salsa.

The salsa scene continued the next evening with Saturday salsa right next to the Charles River at a local sailing club (http://salsaboston.com/river/). Again the company is friendly, the dancing earnest and the weather warm.

I make new instant friends easily at salsa and find myself set up for a lunch time meeting with one very pleasant double doctorate med student (MD and PhD), Miss CL, so my Sunday offers agreeable company for a light lunch in Chinatown and a visit to the Institute of Contemporary Art (http://www.icaboston.org/). The latter is across the bay from the airport so I am once more distracted by the passing flow of aircraft and thoughts turn to further travel ahead.

 

[Platy]

Boston Hilton Logan Airport (not all needy students have HH VIP Gold)

It is nearly time to leave Boston so I offer to take Prof and his wife out to dinner in gratitude for their hospitality. We duly walk to their preferred location (I must admit I was itching to return to Ristorante Umbria!) along Longwood Avenue to Coolidge Corner, Brookline, to feast on (average) Indian curry and Flying Horse beer. We are all tired and the evening doesn’t sparkle. A nightcap of a sumptuous desert tasting selection and Fonseca Port at the nearby Finale specialty dessert eaterie briefly enlivens the mood (http://www.finaledesserts.com/).

Prof’s wife elects to deliver a speech on the walk home on the hopeless neediness and inadequacies of his postgraduate students and although I recognize this is really directed at the Prof and about him dithering in his office nightly until 8pm, it is hard to justify, on top of her declaration, waking up hosts at 3.30-4am the following night, so that I can get to Logan Airport in time for a 0545 departure.

I thus make last minute plans for my final night in Boston to overnight at the Hilton Logan Airport Hotel, realizing in time that the telephone agent had initially booked me into Woburn, not Logan, and thus luckily managing to cancel and rebook before being charged! The Hilton online booking system in the US seems to disable itself for same day bookings mid morning forcing bookings to be made by phone.

So that Thursday I left the uni department at an early 6pm and grabbed a taxi to the Hilton ready for my Friday morning travel. A well appointed and large room had been assigned in the corner of the building with windows on two sides giving me a grandstand view of Logan Airport. Cool!

I dumped the bag and sought brief refuge in the Executive Lounge only to find that in that location (USA?) they charge you for beer in the Lounge. Shame. It is a brief visit. I distract my sorrows by walking across the footbridge to the airport terminal buildings and hike across several terminals to the AA terminal so I know where I will be heading half asleep early the following morning. Despite being in walking distance, it seems most people still take the courtesy shuttle bus between hotel and terminal.

Back at the Hilton I grab a Sam Adams at the downstairs bar followed by a rack of lamb in the hotel restaurant. These are consumed eagerly and judged most agreeable, if not especial. The familiar black bedside clock is set for 4am and the wake up call arranged. I am in a very deep sleep when both go off at the same time and stagger into the shower to wake myself up for the two flights to Trinidad.

 

[Platy]

BOS-MIA (finally I sample the famous AA omelet)

I reach the first class check in desk at 0430 after a 10 minute power walk from the Hilton and quickly gather up boarding passes. There is a moment of confusion as I am told I need a visa for Trinidad. I am still half asleep, but eventually realise I should be showing my UK passport to prove I meet entry requirements, whilst not forgetting to hand over my green visa waiver slip from my Australian passport when boarding the connecting flight in Miami.

The priority lane through security puts me into the sterile area by 0445 and having identified the location of the gate, I wander around the corner to the Admirals Lounge only to find it doesn’t open until 0500. I stand forlornly by the locked door next to a chap that looks like he walked straight out of Saks catalogue promoting a range of Ralph Polo Lauren shirts and smart casual trousers. He regales me for 15 minutes on the amazing things the food industry can do with corn syrup and wheat germ and moves onto a diatribe about energy alternatives to combat global warming. It’s not even 5am! When he admits to being a sales manager for a huge food manufacturing company I decide not to counter with my amazement at the sugar content of the average loaf of bread in the USA, the paucity of fresh produce, rarity of healthy lunch time fare and proclivities for upsize in all things edible. The lounge opens and I have ten minutes for a drink and refresh before wandering to the gate.

I take the priority boarding option for premium passengers and attempt to get the brain kick started with yet another cryptic crossword torn from the pages of the Cairns Port. I am back in now familiar territory of seat 5B on a 757, but the lady next to me is distressed at being separated from other family members across the aisles and is pleading for my favoured seat. This is my excuse to move up to 4B with a vacant seat next to me in 4A. The flight sets off for Miami close to scheduled departure.

This is a breakfast service so I finally get to eat my first stock standard American Airlines breakfast omelet! It was quite filling. I elect not to read the ingredients on the little pot of Philadelphia cheese so I can enjoy the spread on a bagel in ignorance of the chemical preservatives and colourings.

The 3 hour flight passes quickly having experienced the much longer flights to date and we are soon banking westwards across the Florida coastline with great views of Miami Beach, Key Biscayne and downtown. The big left turn brings into approach from the west after briefly over-passing the Everglades below.

As we taxi in, I clutch my print out map of the Miami terminal and peer out of the window so I can orientate myself and be sure we don’t end up at the satellite bays.

 

[Platy]

MIA-POS

After several tight transits, I finally get enough time to visit an Admirals Club and relax for 30 minutes or so! The lounge appears well appointed and I grab a few minutes on the courtesy computers to dash off a couple of emails. The obvious difference to a QP is the lack of gratis catering.

All too soon I am heading down the grand stairway from the Mezzanine level lounge to the nearby gate where a 767 was being loaded for the 4 hour flight to Port of Spain. After 3 flights on 757s with the regular leather first class seats it was exciting to trial the bed seat of the 767.

The flight was most enjoyable. For one I was looking forward to a few days of relaxation after a very intense working period in Boston, on what I assumed would be a picture postcard perfect Caribbean Island. For another, the cabin crew decided I was a favoured passenger (some basic manners and an Australian accent seem to work wonders with some crew members!), attentively bringing additional Heinekens, warmed nuts and refills of red wine with seemingly telepathic adroitness. A meal of teriyaki chicken with rice and greens was served as lunch. As the food and wine mellowed my mood, I trialed the various seat positions to secure forty winks before we neared Trinidad.

With the wet season, passing rain storms forced us into a holding pattern over the northern coast of Venezuela just south of the island of Trinidad as the runway was temporarily closed and flights backed movements backed up. Trinidad, and smaller partner island Tobago, are only miles off the south American coastline right down in the southernmost corner of the Caribbean.

We circled for about 20 minutes before joining the usual northerly approach for Piarco International Airport. The approach took us along the western shoreline, which seemed to be populated with extensive petrochemical installations. I was a little surprised at their number and extent and my postcard image of the island began to fade somewhat.

Landing documents and UK passport in hand, I wandered through the terminal to customs and immigration and very quickly out into the confused bustle of the arrivals area. Fortunately, I was quickly spotted by my local friend, Miss M, who had a car and driver at the ready to whisk us up to the house of my long lost university friend (EW) in a suburb called Maraval in the capital, Port of Spain.

 

[Platy]

Trinidad (first impressions)

I have previously lived in the Bahamas for 6 months, and visited various Caribbean Islands, including Antigua and the British Virgin Islands (Virgin Gorda, Tortola, etc), so I was expecting a certain island style!

The airport road is a freeway, but one of those roads which mysteriously have sections of free running traffic and sections of backed up traffic for no apparent reason. Admittedly there was some delay due a work crew doing resurfacing despite it being a public holiday to celebrate Emancipation Day marking the abolition of slavery on August 1st in 1834 some 60 years later than that in the colony of Rhode Island (1774) and 45 years later than that within the French Revolution (1789).

In defiance of the crazy driving we reached the outskirts of Port of Spain and suddenly in amongst non descript docklands, concrete and ramshackle buildings there is a newly built hotel although I could not imagine where a guest would walk to from its location.

We drive eastwards away from the water past the extensive Savannah Park and the overlooking upside down Hilton Hotel and up a small valley into Maraval and soon after friend EW’s rented house.

I am initially disconcerted by the $160 cost of the taxi for the 50 minute ride and it is only much later I realise that the exchange rate is $6 TT to $1 US, so by our standards the fare was less than $30!

Maraval is a medley of medium to large houses set in a small valley bounded by rainforest. Small black vultures abound on thermals above the hill tops in such numbers that I cannot fathom how they can all sustain themselves with food. There are small corner shops at the bottom of the street and a small mall of shops back on the main road to Port of Spain.

EW isn’t back until Sunday so Miss M and I relax in his house and watch old DVDs of “The Dambusters” and “Battle of Britain” bypassing more recent titles EW bought during his assignment in Baku when we can’t work out how to access the DVD menus to switch the soundtrack settings from Russian to English!

We arrange for the taxi driver to ferry us to a shopping mall on Saturday and hang out in the food court, look round the shops and do a circuit of the supermarket to stock up on food for the weekend. The Argentinian wine appears good value and bottles of local beer can be picked up for less than an Aussie buck apiece.

I am a little uncomfortable at the sight of security guards stationed on every aisle in the supermarket, boycott my first visit to the ATM when several guys suddenly line up close behind me and note the taxi’s driver’s insistence that we don’t go downtown at night unless he is pre-booked to meet us outside club or restaurant at an appointed hour.

I also can’t help noticing that they are hardly any, if any at all, other tourists out and about, and increasingly succumb to the feeling that I am the only white blonde blue-eyed dude in town with an attendant rising self consciousness akin to walking naked down the Pitt Street mall back in Sydney (which I am just starting to feel just might be favourable).

 

[Platy]

Maracas Beach (and the chocolate Labrador)

EW returns late Sunday morning so I cook up a penne amatriciana with a salad of roasted cherry tomatoes to welcome him home to his own house. We round up the chocolate Labrador and Miss M, and drive to the northern coast of the island for a late afternoon visit to the local beach, Maracas. It seemed that the rest of the island had the same plans for a lazy Sunday afternoon and the winding rainforest road was thick with traffic driving down the range to the bay with progress stifled to a crawl.

The car parks are gravid with vehicles. The beach is teeming with folk relaxing to the cacophony of innumerable car sub woofers. Drifts of sickly sweet smoky air hint at leafy pleasures. And the tide line is burdened with hundreds of can, bottles, and other items of trash.

We do our best to stride with a combination of confidence and cool, cutting a pathway through hundreds of staring faces. Many seem intrigued or even hesitant about the chocolate labrador, perhaps because dogs in Trinidad are either for security, and come in whole packs per property barking and shrieking from every garden you walk past, or are strays living off scraps and overturned rubbish bins. Walking a dog as a family pet just doesn’t seem to be the norm. Indeed most dogs on the beach are strays and there is enough litter to keep them engaged in foraging.

We stop for a couple of local Carib beers at one of the many takeaway food huts, but decline a snack of “shark and bake” in favour of the ride home.

 

[Platy]

Trinidad (postcards and movie sets)

It is only later that evening that EW gives me the cautionary briefing. Firstly the mosquito problem and endemic dengue fever infections, of which I have a little knowledge since there are occasional outbreaks of this disease in Cairns, which sends us locals into a tailspin of emptying idle water out of plant pots and spraying repellant everywhere.

Secondly, the security issue. Several “do nots”, including withdrawing money from the shopping mall ATM and lingering in the mall car park have already been “done” in my first few days! The extraordinary numbers of laptops stolen from employees from EW’s multinational petrochemical company seem benign compared with the tales of armed muggings, random killings, kidnappings and gang wars that follow.

The picture post card image is now fully shattered! Maybe this would be a good place to have Rambo for a best buddy! The idea of a trip to an out of the way beach to see leatherback turtles, or a walk down the road to the local zoo, or a boat ride to see the scarlet ibis seem oddly unattractive compared with the pleasures of catching up on a few episodes of Charmed and Judge Judy on cable whilst raiding the fridge for a Carib or two and sitting behind a high wall, security system, and (admittedly hopeless labrador) guard dog!

Call me paranoid if you will, but my blonde-haired self consciousness is back with a vengeance. Casual questions pitched at our trusted driver reinforce perceptions – virtually none of the recent world cup cricket was played on Trinidad, the island is lucky to attract a single cruise ship per year, the government and locals are relying on their oil and gas reserves to underwrite GDP and failing to invest in alternative industries such as tourism, tourists aren’t coming anyway, and why is that, because of the crime!

 

[Platy]

An airport drive (the great escape)

Over the next few days EW goes back to work whilst Miss M and I potter along, mostly in the house with occasional forays to shop at the local supermarkets. We ponder on a side trip to Tobago. I spend countless hours with my laptop hooked to EWs home cable service and find that it does work mostly in the afternoon, but only offers intermittent service during many hours of the day.

One day the water goes off for hours, another, the electricity drains from the sockets for most of the day. The highly discounted airfares between Trinidad and Tobago seem easily available one day and then mysteriously seem to become absolutely fully booked the next.

Evening mealtimes are most enjoyable as EW and I catch up on 20 years since our university days together and he briefs me on the merits of being hitched to a Colombian wife with two young kids and living the ex-pat life (wife and kids are away with family in Colombia during my visit so we have good opportunity for a catch up).

Eventually I tire of trying to plan a side trip to Tobago and decide on a radical plan. Miss M and I will fly to the nearby island of Barbados for a few days. This is one of the few countries that she will not need a visa travelling on her Colombian passport. We can even take the Thursday (one of the twice weekly) BA flight! There are cheap Liat flights back on the Sunday.

Suddenly plans slip nicely into place. Club World (business) is on offer for only $18 more than economy for the 40 minute hop across the Caribbean. The Barbados Hilton has reasonably priced rooms and appears to be well positioned and appointed judging from reviews and a handy video review on “youtube”. It is an afternoon flight out of Trinidad so we can ride the infamous airport road in daylight hours.

Our trusty driver is booked and arrives at EWs house at 2pm for the 50 minute drive to the airport. The car radio is on and as we drive down out of the suburb of Maraval the radio news is describing the shootings last night in self same suburb of Maraval. There is some good news however, four people have been arrested on suspicion of a kidnapping the previous year. We turn left along Savannah Park by the entrance to the zoo and see families picnicking and playing cricket where a couple of days ago some people let a hail of bullets rip. As we drive through Port of Spain and stop at the lights, a tall man is working his way from car to car trying every door and boot apparently in the hope of lifting some valuables through unlocked door or boot.

Eventually we make it onto the airport freeway. In places the drive is smooth. In others cars back up inexplicably – people are walking in the middle of the road offering snacks and bottles of drink from large wheeled dark red cooler bins.

 

[Platy]

Club Caribbean Lounge – Piarco International Airport, Trinidad (Carib beer!)

We arrive at the airport and check in for the BA flight. Our driver wanted to stay to make sure we were safely through. Complimentary passes are provided for the Caribbean Airlines lounge so we swiftly pass through immigration and security and go upstairs to the sanctuary of the lounge where we can relax for a couple of hours.

The lounge is small, but welcoming. There are computers for me to check emails and the British Airways - Global Gateway site for updated departure information. We gulp down a couple of Carib beers unconcerned that the flight will be about 40 minutes late departing.

I finally let myself read the local newspaper and find that most articles are about the local crime problem. On the freeway some chap had stopped his car only to be confronted by a couple of gang members dressed as cops who decided to pump his body with bullets. The police commissioner’s house had been robbed despite attendant security. The familiarity of a Club World cabin on a BA 777 was increasingly attractive!

• I will add as a footnote that on my return to Australia I discover that the last two years have featured annual crime rates of around 385 murders and 160 kidnappings – to put that in perspective, approximately the same number of homicides per year occur in Trinidad as Australia, but obviously with about one twentieth of the population. The airport road can be unsafe at night as travelers are followed by armed gangs. Crime has also now extended to the formerly safer island of Tobago. The Australian Government advises a high degree of caution (http://www.smartraveller.gov.au/zw-cgi/view/Advice/trinidad_and_tobago).
• There are many wonderful people and very scenic places on these islands, it is a great shame that the crime situation is creating such a negative environment for locals and visitors alike. Our trusted driver was a great ambassador for the concerned and caring folk of T&T.

.

 

[Platy]

POS-BGI (champagne on the hop)

I realise that BGI has been a staple for many fellow readers eager for more status credits for crossing the Atlantic. For me it held the promise of a well respected Caribbean destination that had successfully attracted a Concorde service in its day.

We duly board the 777 and relax into our new style flat bed seats in a half empty cabin. I suddenly realise that there is no pre-flight cabin service of even a basic nature such as a welcome drink. After a take off which hardly troubled the runway surface it was so rapid, I have a mounting sense of panic that BA have decided that this flight was far too short to bother with any cabin service! Just as I was resigning myself to the compensation of imagining tasty possibilities at the Hilton Executive Lounge, a plate of canapés and a glass of Charles Heidseick (mis en cave) champagne appeard to great relief.

Miss M and I snatch photos on her camera to record her first experience in business class, but the champagne is hardly sipped before the pilots tilt the aircraft to descent.

We disembark by stairs onto the apron to be greeted by a delicious warm evening. Everything is clean and relaxed. The immigration officer is extremely friendly as she just makes a double check that the Colombian passportsreally doesn’t need a visa. Within minutes we are in a taxi gliding through the evening to Needham Point some 15 minute drive to the west and towards Bridgetown itself.

 

[Platy]

Barbados first impressions (excellent)

The craziness, dirtiness and insane energy of Trinidad are suddenly washed away as we adjust to the reality of an island that could not be so different in geography, atmosphere and presentation. Apart from the obvious differences between a low level island based on a carbonate (fossil coral) platform that comprises Barbados, to the rainforested and rugged north of Trinidad, which is in reality an extension of landforms of the northern Venezuelan landmass, this place has a radically different feel – I suddenly realise I would happily walk down the street without giving it a second thought!

I ponder that unlike the gas rich economy of Trinidad, which has exonerated folk on that island from the need to foster tourism seriously, Barbados absolutely depends on its reputation as a tourist destination and has taken the basic steps required to preserve its ability to deliver. Local people have been well trained in hospitality and customer service. Beachside bars are quietly guarded against casual trade. Six cruise ships at a time can disgorge around 20,000 folk into the downtown area to spend their greenbacks in shops, restaurants and bars. There is even one of the retired Concordes headlining a museum right next to the airport!

 

[Platy]

Barbados Hilton (instantly my favourite Hilton)

The Hilton Barbados dominates a headland a few kilometers to the east of Bridgetown. It is a grand building with an impressive reception area with views one way over a clutch of swimming pools to a white coral beach to the east and the other way across another bay to the buildings of the town.

We are directed upstairs to the Executive Lounge for check in and are delighted to find a light and airy lounge with stunning views of beach and town. We have been upgraded to a very comfortable room with views and balcony directly over the beach. Now I have a picture postcard I can either keep or send with confidence and pleasure to family and friends.

The lounge is opened most of the day and offers a wholesome buffet breakfast, afternoon tea, free evening drinks and canapés. Wireless or cable internet access is provided gratis within the lounge.

There is a beach bar and café aside the beach and lower pool, which offers cheap drinks during happy hour and bar snacks. One evening there was some karaoke in full flood, another a duo of guitar player delighted us with consummate musicianship.

Two restaurants cater for folk on the lobby level. There is one serving mainly buffet food with a revolving weekly menu of cuisine styles. The other offers steaks, lamb, fish, etc and is pitched a little more upmarket. There was a singer with piano one night we were there and a low key band another. We found the food to be enjoyable , but average, although the overall experience was greatly enhanced by the friendly service and agreeable location.

The beaches are spectacular. The white coral sand throws stunning light shades through the shallow waters.

An unofficial video reviewing this hotel can be found online (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHzT2R1k2pk).

 

[Platy]

Bridgetown (a gentle, but hot beach walk away)

We wandered into town mostly along the beach, taking the road part of the way where beach access is restricted by the neighbouring hotel’s restaurant, which is built out into the bay. There were a few locals enjoying the beach and gentle sea from a couple of public access points. A clutch of tourists were lounging around close to the (private) yacht club.

Downtown Bridgetown is a lively place with the cruising of shops evidently popular with tourists and locals alike. It soon became evident that there are a respectable number of tourists and apart from the ever so slightly irritating persistence of multitudes of taxi drivers asking for a fare, the walk around town and shops was interesting and enjoyable. Various historic buildings in impressive limestone block mark key points within the town.

The inlet supports a small row of shops and a popular bar, where we devoured a wholesome lunch of chicken and vegetables. There are several market stalls on the footbridge over the inlet.

 

[Platy]

Heading home

A couple of days on Barbados was all too short, but added to the list of places for another visit especially for any future round the world itineraries!

It may not surprise the reader after my comments on Trinidad that I elected to pick up the phone and call AA to arrange a direct flight from BGI-MIA to pick up my original itinerary back to Cairns through Boston and Honolulu. This saved me from flying back to Trinidad for one night only to take a 4am taxi ride to the airport on the Monday morning!

After yet another 4am wake up call, Miss M and I took a taxi to Bridgetown Airport and once I had briefly queued for my AA early morning flight to Miami, I took Miss M over to the Liat desk to get her boarding pass for the 0805 back to Port of Spain. I should add that Miss M needed to return to Colombia after 6 months of studying English on Trinidad and had flights lined up via Port of Spain and Caracas to get her back home to her family. EW would meet her at POS and make sure she made the flight to Caracas a few days later.

 

[Platy]

BGI lounge (for ten bucks!)

Miss M and I passed swiftly through BGI airport security and headed upstairs to the generic lounge used for AA passengers. They are not keen to let Miss M into the lounge given she is not traveling with me, but offer her entry for payment of about $10, to which we immediately agree.

The lounge is roomy, has the requisite computers with internet access and just enough basic catering (toast and jelly!) to grab a stocking-filler, although my thoughts are on AA omelets or other substantial fare on the 4 hour business class flight to Miami. In the event I should had more to eat, but more on that later!

They call my 7.15am flight and Miss M comes downstairs to wave me off as I climb up the external stairs onto yet another 757.

 

[Platy]

BGI-MIA (flaked out)

Finally everyone is aboard our BGI-MIA flight, but we don’t seem to be going anywhere. I recognize at one point that the APU has died, a situation soon rectified by the arrival of some sort of power truck.

Eventually the captain confesses that we need to kick start the engines and has requested the requisite truck to bellow through the blades. This unit takes a seeming eternity to arrive so that when we finally take off we are over an hour late. I can’t help thinking about my 100 minute connection, which has to accommodate a transit of the legendary Miami immigration process.

Things aren’t improved when the breakfast run down the business class aisle proves to be under stocked and the hot breakfast option withers to oblivion a couple of rows before row 5. Suddenly I am staring at a small bowl, its base hardly covered by a wimper of corn flakes. To add insult to injury, the bread rolls seem to be the size of quails eggs and I know that I will be left desperately hungry over this four hour flight before arrival into Miami and a chance to stock up on food. I should have had a round of toast in the BGI lounge a couple of hours earlier!

This is now the third time out of 5 flights that food choices in first/business have run out and on this occasion my hunger saps my tolerance and good humour towards the management at AA. I am glad only to have paid the instant upgrade/discount business level fares and would have been fully fuming had I paid the full price. I do accept the offer of a bottle of wine from the cabin crew graciously, but doubt I will ever get to drink the contents having only cabin baggage and a landside/airside transit to manage at Miami.

I reach Miami in a slightly dithery state, sure signs that a snack is required! But first there are crowds and queues, and a new airport geography to master if I am to make the Boston flight inside the 60 minute window.

 

[Platy]

Miami Airport (going on instinct)

I stride through the terminal and reach the immigration lines. They at first appear to be thankfully slight and I do a count on the visible lines to see if I can do better than the 6 people per line on the booth directly ahead of me. However, there seems to be some drama with each person and it takes maybe 5 minutes per passenger for the officer to work out what to do with them. At one point two chaps have been set aside and look completely lost and unsure what to do next. The officer is disinterested in allowing them forward. They just stand looking hopeless near the booth. I suspect they have made a simple error in filling in their paperwork and the officer is disinclined to process them until they realise their predicament.

Dwindling blood sugar has left me feeling a little weak and shakey, but there is no way to go, but forward. I distract myself from boredom and frustration by embarking on a polite conversation with the gentleman behind me. A smile and quip lightens the mood for both of us. Finally the two lost folk are allowed through and I go up to the booth and quickly through after the requisite finger prints and photo.

Queues of people are now backed up trying to get downstairs to the baggage claim area. Some deep breathes and gentle shuffling finally finds me downstairs and out into the landside part of the terminal. Unsure, I instinctively turn left and head up an escalator to be faced with a security line, which I elect to join. A few minutes later I am in the sterile area, obviously minus the gratis bottle of wine, which is dumped into the bin for disallowed items. Thankfully past security I am greeted by signage, which includes the gate for the Boston flight, which is now on final call and just past the lounge.

I wander to the gate without any seconds to spare to think of lounges or snacks and walk straight onto the 757 and relax into seat 6E. I momentarily regret picking a rear seat when I consider the possibility of yet another depleted catering trolley.

 

[Platy]

MIA-BOS (just a snack!)

The Boston flight pushes back close to time and we take off to the west before a right turn to the north to skirt the coastline up the east coast of the US. A Heineken and couple of rounds of warm nuts fill in the time before the food trolley arrives. Again I am slightly alarmed when mention is made of “snack”, especially since a 1250 departure must surely rate as lunchtime!

The snack, a chicken salad, proves reasonably substantial, cubes of chicken breast are eked out with some salad items, cheese and beans, plus a small packet of nacho strips. With some food and a glass of red finding a welcoming home, the flight passes quickly and we fly over the scenic coastline of Rhode Island on descent towards Boston Logan.

It feels good to be on familiar territory so on arrival I stride knowingly out of the sterile area, down the escalator outside to the left and straight to the taxi rank. There is still one Hilton in Boston I have yet to visit, so I ask the Haitian driver to drive me to Dalton Street, Back Bay.