Why Barbados may be the only place I’d travel to twice

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I have one rule as a traveller: Never visit the same place twice. But earlier this year I broke it to return to Barbados, where I studied in my early 20s.

Back then, I started and ended my days floating in the tranquil salt waters off the island’s quiet west coast. Evenings were often spent at the local bar playing trivia over $1 fried fish balls and bottles of Banks beer. I began dating a fellow Canadian student, and we took weekend trips to Bathsheba, a remote fishing village on the east coast. The freedom of early adult independence and thrill of my first love made my four months in Barbados the happiest period of my life.

When I returned to Canada, things changed. My boyfriend and I split up, then my mom died. I didn’t realize I had been experiencing pure joy until I felt such deep sorrow. My time in Barbados felt like a dream, one that I worried a return visit would ruin. After nearly a decade had passed though, I decided to see whether I could still find magic there, this time by myself.

I chose to stay at the Crane, the oldest continuously operated resort in the Caribbean. I hoped its location on the southeast coast would enable me to see the island with fresh eyes. And with strong winds creating constant waves, its secluded beach definitely provided a much different experience from the placid waters I once floated in every day. This helped, as did the design of the property. The regal columns embellishing its communal pools made me feel more like I was in Italy than Barbados.

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As I reviewed my itinerary for the week – filled with what I thought would be new experiences – I grew excited to see the island from a tourist’s perspective. But I would soon discover that many of the attractions I visited were places I’d already been.

Craving a swim in calm waters, I went snorkelling at Carlisle Bay in the southwest. I saw turtles and manta rays above a shipwreck, and recalled I’d snorkelled in the exact spot. Afterward, I stopped at Cuz’s Fish Shack for what is said to be the best fish burger on the island – and turns out the flying fish was just as juicy as I remembered. Even when I went to less touristy sites such as Brighton’s Farmers Market, I realized I’d been there before, too.

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Rather than be disappointed by the redundancy, I enjoyed each of these experiences no less by doing them again. In the absence of novelty, excitement was found in knowing the insider secrets, like that Cuz’s fish sandwich tastes best smothered in bright orange Bajan hot sauce.

Arguably the most popular food spot on the island is Oistins Fish Market, where every Friday night rows of shacks fry up Bajan seafood classics served with hearty sides of plantains and macaroni pie.

When my fellow students and I visited here back in 2014, we appeared to be the only tourists in a crowd dancing to booming reggae music. This time, the scene was nearly unrecognizable. The market was filled with tourists politely eating while a couple of Bajan dancers performed onstage to Rihanna songs.

Later, I found out that the old Oistins still exists – just at a different time. From 6 to 9 p.m., the market caters to tourists, but later at night, the locals arrive. I was too sleepy to stick around, but I was relived to know tourism hadn’t ruined the market’s energy.

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I discovered the same pattern of early hours for tourists and late hours for locals at St. Lawrence Gap, a strip known for dance clubs. Again, I remembered feeling like the only tourists in a dark bar filled with locals winding and grinding. This time, I had dinner at Cocktail Kitchen, a popular spot for happy hour deals and vegan dishes such as breadfruit nachos.

The closest I got to clubbing was nodding along to the EDM music the restaurant played while I sat on the balcony overlooking the near-empty street (it wouldn’t get rowdy until closer to midnight). While it wasn’t the most authentic cultural experience, I didn’t mind; being 31, instead of 22, my ideal night now is an early dinner with an entertaining view.

But few experiences revealed how much my preferences have matured than an evening at the nightclub Harbour Lights. I was there for the dinner show, a Caribbean performance coupled with a Bajan buffet. Once I stepped out onto the outdoor venue – picnic tables set on the sand under strings of twinkling lights – I realized I had been here before, as an intoxicated twentysomething celebrating Halloween with my friends.

This time, I was a woman dining solo, nursing my pina colada. Rather than feel lonely, I appreciated how much I’ve grown comfortable in my own skin. Instead of dancing with a bunch of sweaty bodies, I was content watching others while I ate my macaroni pie.

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The only time I did feel lonely was during dinner at a new restaurant, Calma Beach Club, located just down the street from where I used to live. I had a direct view of the beach where my boyfriend and I used to swim. As I stared out at the water, an older man thought I was staring at him, and gestured to buy me a drink. I shook my head and snapped out of my nostalgic daze.

I tried to shift my focus to the bright spread in front of me – tequila shrimp with plantain chips, a bright salad with cornbread croutons – but couldn’t help envying the perceived romance of all the couples dining on the sand overlooking the sunset. I didn’t long for the ex-boyfriend or the companionship. What I yearned for was the feeling that being in love in paradise conjured – a feeling I had left in Barbados and not felt since.

Being on the island brought back treasured moments and fond memories of the people associated with them whom I’ve since lost from my life. But more than that, the sights, sounds and smells reminded me of how those moments made me feel.

After dinner, I wandered down to the beach I used to swim at every day. I stood watching the waves and thought about where I am now compared with where I was then. Returning to Barbados didn’t tarnish my memories as I feared, but rather built upon them. Instead of grieving the loss of the happiness I felt when I lived here, I was grateful to have experienced such happiness at all, and newly confident in my capacity for joy. Returning deepened my understanding of the destination, but it also restored in me a self-assuredness I didn’t know I had.

If you go

Direct flights to Barbados are available on Air Canada from Montreal and Toronto, and on WestJet from Toronto.

Where to stay

With most hotels clustered on the west and southwest coast of the island, The Crane is a quiet retreat perched atop rugged cliffs. Rooms start at $300 a night.

This writer was a guest of Visit Barbados. The organization did not review or approve the article before publication.