Baatan Death March: Barbados style

It would not be a proper trip without including a Bataan death march. The Bajan version saw me make the trek from Oistins Bay back to the Hilton.



That probably means nothing to you. Oistins Bay is a little fishing village that offers up some fresh grilled and fried fish. There are rows and rows of little fish shacks that all offer essentially the same fare: dolphin, snapper, bbq chicken and lamb, peas and rice and a host of sides. My cabbie reccomended a place called Mo's and it did not dissapoint. In the middle of all fish shacks, there is a bandstand that features live performances on friday nights and a dj on saturdays. The DJ last night served up a mix of fifties-americana love songs and gospelish-reggae that had some thumping beats. In a word: strange.



A plate of grilled dolphin and peas and rice filled me with the gumption to make the trek back to the hotel (about 6 miles) on foot. Or maybe it was the 4 Carib beers I put down. Funny thing about the decision is that I really had no idea how to get back: I just knew that Oistins Bay was on the water and so was the hotel.



Along the way home, I was tempted into a club by some blaring reggae. The doorman told me it was the best club in barbados that night. I should have questioned his credibility when he let me in shirtless (key feature of a Bataan death march is the sweat inducing heat). The only other people at the club were three yaardies.



I made a quick exit back to the hotel and had ran into some of the team staff, including former MNT player Mike Sorber. I made sure to let him know that I was there for USA-Switzerland '94 when George Bregi and Eric Wylnada scored on equally impressive free kicks to produce the 1-1 draw that made me a fan for life.

Kickin it by the pool and the beach right now. Headed to the Oval in about an hour.





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