A Famous Fish Sandwich (or Goals)

The other day, I walked for 5 hours under the scorching Barbados sun for a famous fish sandwich. 

Could I have taken the bus? Sure.

But that would be too easy. And 2024 is for the plot.

I had just finished touring a hotel and was planning on heading south to explore Bridgetown, where I would meet my friend for drinks at sunset. 

But it was only 11. And sunset wasn’t until 5:30.

No matter. The island was my oyster. I decided to check out a beach 15 minutes further down the road. It was pretty, but windy. So I kept walking.

The coolest thing about Barbados? There are no private beaches. Not one. This means that where there is sand, you may walk.

And so I walked.

I walked as far as the coast and the tide allowed. Sometimes climbing over rocks to stay (mostly) dry. 

Not like it mattered. Every so often, when I got too hot, I’d drop my bag and go for a swim. And more often than not I was completely alone. Just me and the sea. 

I came across a beautiful stretch of undeveloped beach called Paradise Bay. I found an abandoned skeleton of a hotel and some cool coral sculptures. I saw a lone truck hauling sand, rebuilding part of the beach that had been swept away.

I only went inland to the road when the ocean made my seaside route impossible. I ate a frostbitten ice cream. Strolled through some residential neighborhoods. Accidentally wandered onto the grounds of a rum distillery and got yelled at by a grumpy guard. Fortunately, passed another more welcoming distillery shortly after and refreshed with a cocktail. Grabbed a beer from the gas station. Kept walking.

By the time I reached Bridgetown, I could care less about looking around. I was hungry and my knees hurt. It is also the island’s cruise port, which means one thing: duty free shopping. Pass. Instead of looking at things I’d never buy, I stared down the last stretch of beach separating me from my sandwich, and walked some more.

By the time I held my double fish cutter (with cheese, per the chef’s recommendation) at Cuzz’s Fish Shack, it had been five hours since I first left the hotel. 

So why didn’t I take a 30 minute bus down the coast instead? 

On a surface level, it was simply because I had the time.

But as I climbed over rocks and took silly self-timer photos and laughed at my own jokes and tumbled into waves… I remembered just how badly I missed being out in the world — with myself. Doing whatever I wanted. With no one around to tell me otherwise.

—

People (Miley Cyrus) say that “it’s all about the climb.”

And while the sentiment is nice — certainly a helpful way to consider life’s trials and tribulations — I’m not sure it’s 100% correct. 

Didn’t Miley also say “Life’s a climb… but the view’s great.”?

Goals are so important. We need a destination. We need a reward for our efforts. 

Sure, in the larger scheme of things a journey may end up being about what you learned or how you built character along the way, but the only reason Sisyphos keeps rolling his rock uphill is because he has no choice. He’s cursed. It’s not like he’d keep doing it for fun.

If there’s no gratification, no goal, would we even begin the climb in the first place? Would I have taken such a long walk, enjoyable as it was, without a sandwich waiting for me? 

I’m not so sure.

As romantic a traveler and lover of the world as I can be, in this case, the adventure was about both the journey and the destination.

That, and the choice to enjoy the journey with my eyes on the prize. The fish sandwich was, by the way, really good. Nothing overwhelmingly special.

But no matter. 

It was a beautiful day.

ONWARDS,

Mag