Oh, the Places We Went for Winter Vacation Pre-Covid

 

Daphne Sashin, Barbados, circa 1980 

By the time the Covid lockdown went into place, I had taken two glorious beach vacations with my grandchildren, Jack and Lucy, and their parents, one in February 2018 another in February 2020. Just the thought of feeling the sun on my face and the warmth of the water on my body as I swam laps in a pool or dipped my toes in the Pacific, was something to get me through the chill of December and January in Boston. But what I cherish is the feeling of closeness with my family as we dine al fresco each evening, watching the sun go down without a care in the world.

We chose the Westin in Maui for our first trip to Hawaii in 2018. Other vacationers commented      on the cuteness of my grandkids, then 7 and 4, as they bolted through the hotel lobby on route to a coffee shop selling Hawaiian ice made from fresh fruit. I feared for the safety of those less steady on their feet on the granite floors. 

 For Jack, the older child, this resort hotel’s piece de resistance was the water slide. Once I overcame my anxiety I loved it too, and demanded that my daughter take video of me coming down and hitting the water with a big splash.

In 2020 we braved State Department warnings about crime in Ixtapa, Mexico to enjoy 5 perfectly safe nights at the most beautiful Club Med setting I’ve ever experienced. With no need to leave the resort, we split our time between beach and pool. Lucy reported that she’d made friends with a girl from Long Island who had a different back pack for each of her activities. Jack dismissed the kid’s program, saying: “In a real camp, the counselors care about you. These counselors don’t care what’s you’re doing.” Still, both Jack and Lucy loved the fact that they could get gelato and tropical soft drinks any time of day.

Flash back to late January 1980. Daphne’s Dad and I began a tradition of two weeks in Barbados every winter. We would arrive to a warm welcome from the staff at a modest beachfront hotel called Barbados Beach Village on the island’s St. James Coast. If then three-and-a half year old Daphne had any gripe, it was Mrs. Lawrence, an old school Barbadian woman recommended for babysitting. My daughter didn’t like the way the woman read to her, complaining that she couldn’t understand her accent.

Those nine years we went to Barbados all blend together in my mind. The island seemed to attracted a fair share of New York status seekers for whom it seemed de rigueur to speak about other islands or resorts they’d visited or considered visiting. “They had no room for us at Sandy Lane,” whined an older woman seated not too far from us in the dining room of the Barbados Hilton. She took it personally that she was unable to snag a room at what was then considered the swankiest hotel on the island.

On another occasion, a Long Island hairdresser staying at Barbados Beach Village with his family complained that the water in the pool was murky, compared to crystal clear water in the pool where he’d vacationed the previous year on the Dutch Side of St. Martin. Also in the cast of characters I remember was a lawyer and recovering compulsive gambler who had gone on to found a New York chapter of Gamblers Anonymous, and felt compelled to share his story with anybody who would listen. 

By far the most memorable was a British dowager named Mrs. Bengsten, who spent her entire winter at Barbados Beach Village and had done so for years. When describing the travel collectibles in her London apartment, she said: “These are treasures, and I mean treasures!” 

Eager to coach Daphne on her swimming, Mrs. Bengsten gave our daughter a daily reminder: “Keep your fingers together!” But she had little tolerance for a less fortunate British friend whose lodging arrangements were far from the water. “She’s just calling me because she wants to take a sea bathe,” railed Mrs. Bengsten. Achieving some resolution in her mind, she continued: “Oh, I suppose I could serve omelets for lunch.”

We would probably have continued our winter breaks in Barbados had Daphne’s dad and my first husband not been diagnosed with lymphoma in August of ’89 and died five months later. Yes, the following years brought a couple of Club Med winter vacations to Cancun and the Dominican Republic with Daphne or a friend, as well as solo trips to Puerto Rico and Aruba.

Still, I feel like I want to create more winter vacation memories with Jack and Lucy once Covid is over.