(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.

(Zipaquirá, Colombia)... (Note that this text originally was written in 2001) ... Colombia is a beautiful country and an exquisite last frontier for commonsense travelers. When people ask me, I say, “it’s a wonderful place if you know how to walk down a street and get off a train,” meaning that it’s not for the first-time traveler. If someone gives you advice as to where not to go within the country, listen! Fly, don’t drive, between major cities. That said, I was very impressed with Bogotá. It’s a city with a lot of vitality, and the people have a healthy, positive outlook on life.
The train analogy is a little ironic, for Colombia currently has only one train line left, upon which on weekends leaves the Tren Turistica de la Sabana de Bogotá. Four trains, numbered 72, 75, 76, and 85, are active on the line, each of them between 100 and 150 years old (apparently they sleep somewhere in the beginnings of the dangerous southern barrios of the city, so I did not investigate).
Most people catch the train at its second station at Calle 110 and Carretera 10 (the photo above is a train station in the province of Boyacá, a little distant from the towns described in this post and, as far as I am aware, without a train for sometime). This is in the upscale northern section of Chicó, where you might be staying anyway (look for one of Bogotá’s few roundabouts and then walk along the grassy path of single-line track). The train (it was the #76) is a magnificent but slightly grimy black beast with red wooden sides and yellow and blue skirting, mirroring the colors of the national flag, and its loud, deep whistle is still rare enough to turn busy Bogotano heads. A handful of people were with me, all destined for the town of Zipaquirá, 35 kilometers to the north.
The journey is sufficiently obscure and adventurous to make for great travel. The French couple opposite me, from Lyon, were in Colombia essentially to adopt a child (the French come here to do that in the same way Americans were going to Romania 10 years ago) but were taking a break from the red tape to see the famous salt cathedral at Zipaquirá.
Initially, the train goes through suburban areas, but soon the landscape dries out, long lines of polar trees skirt large haciendas, and the train passes through small towns and villages. But don’t bother to hold on to your Panama hat, as it is not necessary at 20 kilometers an hour. The advantage is that one can really inspect the countryside, which is glorious. A restaurant car, lined with the same rich wood as the passenger carriages, sells beef or chicken and egg empanada rolls, tinto (black coffee), and barbecue and mayonnaise-flavor potato chips. A band entertains, playing Papayera music, security guards add that element of safety that is unfortunately a needed thing here, and the train has a circular front plate that conjured up images of the Wild West and Casey Jones.
The town of Zipaquirá itself is a joy, with a grassy square of palm trees, colonial churches and neat flower patches. It is worth a poke around, but most people on leaving the station head to the salt cathedrals. Literally hacked out of a huge mountain of salt, the cathedrals have been here for more than 125 years. The original cathedrals are closed, but a recent president of Colombia opened new ones several years ago. Consisting of 16 large chambers of various lengths and numerous passageways, this ode to God, which is still used for prayer and worked for salt, is impressive. Blue light magnifies huge crosses and altars, some of which are made of marble and some of salt. All of a sudden one stumbles over a Nativity scene or a statue of Christ.