(Cable Beach, The Bahamas) ... Finding culture on the Bahamas’ island of New Providence is not
easy. It is there, though, but one needs to search diligently for it,
especially outside of its capital, Nassau.
Considering where I was, this might be of no surprise, as I was
there essentially to see the new Sheraton Cable Beach,
which opened last January. It is a fine hotel, although wider plans to make it—together
with the adjacent Wyndham hotel—part of a new megaresort called Baha Mar have
stumbled.
Then again due to open in 2012 (it did not then either, and it remains in legal limbo up to now, 2016), this project was to have included a Caesars
Park Hotel & Casino and Starwood Hotels & Resorts-branded properties W,
Westin and St. Regis. It was to have been—so its developers gushed—the largest
cluster of Starwood-branded properties in the world and a worthy alternative to
the nearby, internationally famous playground of the Atlantis resort on
Paradise Island (which, by the way, still retains its original name in the
hearts of islanders: Hog Island, that is, where the pigs were kept, there at
that time being no bridge and thus no chance of escape).
Nassau is a neat spot. Huge cruise ships pull into its cruise
port, Prince George Wharf, which parallels Bay St., on which is the island’s
famous Straw Market. I was told that the market developed in the 1940s, when
the sponge industry there died, although it has roots in the 18th century when
African slaves were imported. American soldiers looking to relax following
World War II began to bring back straw souvenirs, and everything went from
strength to strength. Today, these souvenirs are becoming increasingly
cheap—straw bags with woven pictures of Harry Potter and Tweety Pie, for
example, when I was there. Most is imported, I was told. If you want to
purchase the good stuff—bags so perfect that they are as light as a feather but
can hold 10 gallons of water—then you need to start talking to people and then
being invited to their homes. That is where the good stuff is, not at the Straw
Market. It is not the vendors’ fault. Most tourists seem to like Harry Potter
and Tweety Pie. Market forces are at work.
A stroll away from the harbor area leads to the colorful houses
and British-styled policemen in pith helmets, white tunics and shiny buttons
that the island is known for. The pink Parliament Building should be visited,
if only because access right into the chamber, where decisions are made
affecting all of the 30 or so Bahamas’ islands, is possible. The room is small,
but anyone visiting the United Kingdom’s parliament in London is likely to say
the same thing; the United Kingdom governed these islands until 1973, and Queen
Elizabeth II still is recognized as the Head of State. Outside Parliament
Building is a statue of a young Queen Victoria, which was put up in 1905, four
years after the sovereign’s death.
Farther up the hill are two worthwhile stops. The first is Fort
Fincastle, built in 1793, which has several cannons pointed towards the harbor
to protect early residents from pirates. A row of dark jail cells make for good
photographs; a short walk from here is the—in my opinion—more impressive
Queen’s Staircase, a 100-foot-plus set of stairs that was constructed by slave
labor. Approximately 70 steps lead up the fort.
My favorite two attractions, however, were Graycliff and the
Junkanoo Mini Museum.
The first, Graycliff is an internationally
recognized hotel and restaurant. This is the quintessential idea of the
colonial age, complete with smartly uniformed wait staff; white, metal garden
furniture; fading photographs; dark wood, a baby grand piano and an impressive
parade of stairs leading up to it. I searched for but did not find an
elephant-foot umbrella stand, which I was convinced must be there somewhere.
Built by a captain of a schooner in the 18th century,
the property’s guest list reads like a Who’s
Who of sporting, acting and governing circles. Very impressive is its
cognac, wine and whisky collections. Lunch and dinner here are not cheap, even
if you do not order a bottle of 1948 Macallan whisky or a half bottle of 1865 Château
Lafite-Rothschild wine (if you need to ask the price, you’ll probably not be
able to afford it anyway). Overall, in the cellar there are above 250,000
bottles, and cognacs are the specialty, though.
The second was the Junkanoo Mini Museum. On the corner of West St.
and Petticoat Lane, this
museum—adjacent to the National Art Gallery, Government House and St. Francis
Xavier Cathedral—chronicles the history of the islands’ colorful parades, which
somewhat mirror those of New Orleans’ Mardi Gras, Philadelphia’s Mummers Parade
and Río de Janeiro’s Carnival. On display are photographs of previous parades,
which are held every Boxing Day (December 26) and New Year’s Day at Festival
Plaza alongside Bay St., videos of the action and costumes in various stages of
their construction.
As of 2006, there also has been a Summer Junkanoo Festival held
every June.
Contestants—divided into crews—guard their festival creations with
immense secrecy. These different teams, competing for bragging rights, have
names such as “Roots,” “Fancy Dancers” and the “Valley Boys.” Seemingly,
European warrior races are popular as names, too, with both the “Saxons” and
the “Vikings” also doing battle.
Right behind the aforementioned Sheraton was a disused
horse-racing track (see photo). I went to investigate it, and right next door was a fairly
large metal bar or warehouse, scattered around which were masks, angels’ wings,
sequins and pieces of colored material and paper. This was a Junkanoo shed,
where the impressive parade costumes and floats are made. I was there in
January, just after that Christmas’ festivities, so perhaps it was temporarily
abandoned, to be set up a few months before June.
The track was abandoned, also, mainly because betting on horse
racing is illegal in the Bahamas. In fact, it is illegal for Bahamians
themselves to bet on anything. Only foreigners are allowed to. This sporting
attraction was built when Bahamians could out down a wager; when suddenly they
could not, the owners had to hope that sufficient foreigners were tempted. They
were not.
If the Baha Mar project ever gets the green light, the track will
probably disappear anyway.
I made time for one other authentically Bahamian
thing. A long walk along the beautiful turquoise seas from the Sheraton leads
to Arawak Cay, on which are several rows of shack restaurants cooking up local
cuisine. Collectively, it is called the Fish Fry, and initially I did not have
high hopes for it. But it turned out to be fun. I chose one that had a crowd of
local workers eating their lunches. An argument (from what I gathered, it was
concerned with what was better, electricity or water, which struck me as a very
curious argument, albeit an immensely entertaining one) was in full flight and
voice, and the radio was tuned to a religious program. I ordered conch
(pronounced “conk”), which was caught that morning and delicious.