
When the airplane dips its wings along the west coast, above the crystal waters, blue against the white sand beaches, and you see beyond that, the brown and green hills, dappled white and pink with coral stone and wood buildings, roofed in gray shingles and red clay tiles, you begin to tingle with anticipation for this exciting land. For this tiny island is an architectural delight of old and new, of elegance and simplicity, of history and tradition preserved and repeated through the years. This is a land of Jacobean and Georgian buildings built with coral and ships ballast, of Victorian homes and wooden chattel houses of the poor, trimmed in gingerbread fretwork, of sophisticated hotels and their manicured lawns amid the open spaces of the golf courses, cricket pitches, polo fields and savannas. It is a land of pirates castles with their fresco ceilings, ornate Italian sculptures from the 16 century and gothic churches on hill tops by the sea. It is the home of movie stars living beside cane cutters, the aristocracy, the artisan and the fisherman. It is a blend of people, style and structure. It is Barbados.
(c) Ian Clayton 1996