To Barbados We are nowhere on Barbados' radar: no visa office and no tourism office in India. The option the high and mighty, and painful UK visa office. But go via them and you too might end up with your passport unstamped and in their custody and your flight the same night! Hours short of losing the entire ticket fare (non-refundable tickets), hotel pre-payments and collective blood pressures mounting 3000 by 2000 my husband and co. called it quits. Faxes, phone calls to the VFS, connections in the UK High Commission had got them a curt, "We've corresponded with Barbados but there's been no reply." I can only somewhat explain their plight when I say that had the trio been abandoned somewhere in the Arctic with mere penguins as saviours, and the odd seal they wouldn't have experienced the utter helplessness they did now at the hands of the Brit visa authorities. Even wrangling passports out of them required protocol and put-up politeness!

I, who'd Fed Ex'd my passport to the Barbados Visa Office in London and now Pucci bikinis in tow was midway in Paris, was told to get on the flight back home; the Caribbean was not to be. Only I dialed the Barbados High Commission in London where Gale Husbands (God bless her!) and Andrew Phadmore came to the rescue. My gang got visa on arrival, all in a matter of hours. So� follow my lead and Fed Ex your passport along with 30 pounds visa fee and don't forget to send a pre-paid, self addressed Fed Ex envelope back. I recommend flying British Airways direct to Barbados. It's the closest you can get to a direct flight, the food enroute is super � make sure BA hasn't automatically put you on an Asian/Hindu/Veg. meal in their super efficient style � and yes, the seats have the promised extra leg room.

Cricket ahoy! What took me to the Caribbean was the Barbados Cricket Carnival co-hosted by Beyond Boundaries, India and Vintage Cricket, New Zealand. My husband captained the Beyond Boundaries team and really, touring Barbados as a cricket team is by far the finest way of relishing this cricket crazed nation. Twenty teams from across the world converged for a weeklong fiesta dotted with cricket matches at the finest grounds, night time revelry and a chance to get up close with the best known cricketers that Barbados has produced - 100 at last count! From Joel Garner the very first night, who when I insisted on a picture � I stood on a raised platform just so I wouldn't emerge later smiling at his knees � snuggled close saying, "Lets make your husband jealous!" To Wesley Hall, down the week, who insisted on paying for lunch since we were in his land. These are lovely people: warm, friendly and welcoming. And content. And cricket is their lifeline. Their love of the game far outshines ours - there is no second.

Time with the husband was limited to days when he wasn't pitting his wits against the Tawa Turtles from New Zealand, Australia's Primary Club, Hollywood Golden Oldies or then the Wanderers Club of Barbados. Times when he'd be discussing cricket! "Imagine the pride; the ABC highway has every roundabout named after a cricketer?" At which Thelma, the matrie'd and the big draw of the breakfast spread would stop by and give more dope. And he'd shrug, "No Mandira Bedi needed here to kindle women into cricket!" From the Empire cricket ground that's produced 17 legends, among others Sir Everton Weekes, Sir Frank Worrel, Charlie Griffith, Conrad Hunte and where if you hit the ball hard it goes and bangs against Worrel's childhood home. To Wanderers Club where on a grimy wall jostle for space frames of the many, many illustrious teams that have played over the decades. Barbados is cricket paradise and Barbadians proud of their cricket history.

In fact lunch with the Reverend Wesley Hall, looking dapper in red with no tell-tale signs of the two recent surgeries, was the Bajan special flying fish and rice, and cricket talk. "The Barbados cricket team toured US back in 1700s � the first unrecorded overseas cricket tour. Cricket has been our heritage and it represents best the multiracial, cross-cultural people that we are. West Indian cricket was known for a Chinese, Indian, white and black team but sadly we are losing that identity today�" Chatting with the legendary fast bowler, former president of the West Indian cricket board, active politician and preacher (Rev. Hall's a motivational speaker not restricted to local parishes but invited worldwide) we dumped the day's sightseeing plan and happily played audience. A day with a living legend listening to arresting cricket anecdotes�. "That famous delivery by Charlie (Griffith) that hit Nari Contractor? It wasn't a bouncer. He expected one and ducked, and as the ball was pitched up he ducked even further and so the ball hit him on the side of his head�" From Sir Garfield Sobers to Chandrashekhar, Kapil Dev and how wives should not be allowed on tours 'women don't understand the camaraderie that players share' he had us glued to our seats through the day.

Sun, sand and Caribbean revelry Most island rules get rewritten here. And the distinction is brought out in the very ethos of the island. It caters to the rich and famous most in the 40 plus age group (Our packed to capacity BA flight's average age was 45) who come here to disappear and not be seen. Affluent and in their prime for them a holiday spells splurging and relaxing, in that order. No typical island activities here, read doping, girls slithering on poles, beach shacks that rock all night... Barbados is snooty, posh and exclusive. And finding favour with its uppity, out of harm's way, elitist tag come global who's who: Oprah Winfrey, Hugh Grant, Sir Cliff Richard, Tony Blair, Rowan Atkinson are few who own fabulous homes.

Seventy miles of coastline. You could be at any corner and experience Caribbean sunshine, miles of white sand, crystal clear water that goes from green to blue from the west to the east coast and the warm, friendly Bajan culture. I wanted to see it all, and on non-match days I'd have Winston ready and waiting at 9.30am, and we'd set off. Car rentals are a dime a dozen and a phone call away, and an absolute must as public transport is limited to crowded buses and steep cabs. Starting upwards from $100 a day you can have the car you fancy � jeeps, sedans, luxury cars � and your driving permit. We chose to get ourselves a chauffeur and Winston proved to be much more�

There's so much to see, if you love exploring this is your Mecca. Bridgetown, with its parliament building, Heroes square with Lord Nelson's statue that pre-dates the one at London's Trafalgar Square, the Careenage and then Broad Street where you stop by for your fill of brand binging. Or the Pelican Craft Village, that we hit, brimming with shops displaying the best of Caribbean craft. It's all here: local preserves made from the island's famous brown sugar, wood works, cigars, batik work, pottery, banana leaf dolls, paintings and prints. I was Alice in Wonderland! Hours later, armed with my mementos we decided to have lunch at the nearby Waterfront Caf� right at the footstep of the Bridgetown Marina � the closest you can get to being on the French Riviera!

The golden apple juice, a local special, was refreshing, and the food superb. Winston had Bul Jol, salt fish tossed with fresh vegetables, a Bajan special that was one of my breakfast faves. I had the masala prawns and the husband didn't look up from his pepper pot, a Guyanese special that's a local favourite too. "Pepper pot is assorted meats brewed with local spices. I'd only have it if cooked by me!" Barbadians are food happy and the island boasts fancy restaurants, top service standards, choicest cuisines from Italian, Japanese, and Thai to Continental, but the British influence and the American junk food sway is manifest.

Post lunch we zipped off to the West Coast past the celebrated and star-studded Sandy Lane Resort (Tiger Woods got married here) to the neck-to-neck in popularity Fairmont Pavilion. While the Jolly Roger sounded more fun, a pirate cruise where you walk the plank hands tied, pirates on board, lots of dancing, flowing rum punch, Bajan spread for lunch� we had to settle with snorkeling on a ship wreck and swimming with sea turtles as Jolly Roger coincided with his match day! Phew!

As I dived in to take a closer look at the turtle duo beckoning from the water I realized that from all the yachts, speed boats, catamarans around we were the only tourists in the water. "You lied to me," I laughed. "No one's coming close to the turtles, not even that boat full of locals." Having convinced me to jump in, the cheeky teenage boy smiled, "No one jumps as they are scared. I convince each one, you agreed!"

An afternoon of sun, sand and turtles, and thanks to Thelma's tip we also had our night action planned. The Harbour Lights Dinner Show. "You can just walk down," she'd explained. We yet hadn't been to The Gap, the night strip further down south with its waterfront board walk and rocking spots but Harbour Lights closer home seemed a good idea. Sand in our toes, the night sky above, we witnessed calypso, fire eaters, deft dancers on high stilts and Caribbean conviviality at its best. And what got out my Garfield-like smile was when the mixed bag of Canadian, Briton, American, Irish spectators rooted for India in the extempore volunteer singing � Varsha, part of our group and really no mean singer wore the crown on behalf of India!

Next on the exploratory hit list was the West Coast. Holetown with its posh hotels, Sugar Tree Hill that plays home to Hollywood heavyweights and other celebrity giants, and finally the galleries of Speightstown. Top dollar restaurants dot the area and then there's also the famous Chattel Village. Chattel homes are homes made of wood on a concrete base. Originally plagued by poverty the locals didn't own the land they lived on and so built these as moveable homes. Chattel Village is basically souvenir shops, designer labels all housed in chattel homes on a quiet patch adjacent to the popular West Coast Mall. Winston chipped in as we steered in, "Mr. Sinh you have to come back tonight and party at First Street Holetown." And as usual he was bang on. 1st Street Holetown is eclectic cafes and super crowd mingling, and also boasts Sitar, the popular Indian restaurant. We devoured 1st street and then partied at Mews on 2nd Street and weren't disappointed.

But that was later; rewind to right now and we were headed to the Caribbean Gallery of Art. Spellbinding canvasses and installations from artists across the Caribbean - I was awestruck. True to life landscapes, portraits, local markets and natives, and also cricket inspired works. The colour, realism, the depth and diversity drew us in. Art is big in Barbados and has patrons across New York, Chicago, Montr�al, Sydney and London and yet prices are affordable compared to the titanic inflation in the art mart at home. I happily tucked artist on display Catherine Forter Chee-a-Tow and walked out the richer. Catherine's French, married to a local she started painting inspired by the bright Barbadian culture, and not only are her canvasses alive she too shows no signs of pre-requisite French insipidnes! Quite like Howaida Mousaweel who with two galleries is among the most celebrated artists and in true Bajan way blisfully unaware of her own might!

Today we were headed up north. All the way up to Port St Charles, the residence marina where millionaires sail in their boats and hop on to their fabulous beachfront villas. Now that's high life for me, manicured residences on a super deluxe resort. Sail in with nothing but a toothbrush, enjoy the privacy of home and be pampered with butlers, gardeners, chefs, restaurants�

After super luxe came basic craft. We spun all the way up to Chalky Mount where third-generation potters flourish turning proximate clay into artwork. Another souvenir in hand and Winston took us for a surprise spin. Sugarcane plantations, winding roads and the oldest plantation home, St Nicholas Abbey shrouded in mahogany trees, both hundred of years old. Emerging at Cherry Tree Hill with the East Coast stretching out below, a winding road leading down to Cattlewash beach bypassing the Morgan Lewis Mill enroute� I heave at the thought of that spot where getting out of the car we took in all of this and then also the yellow bus going down the winding road growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Heaven must look like this? Winston, you lucky devil you live here? Who says the West or the South coast is it. This is the best. He laughed and shrugged. "I love it." The east coast is stunning. The stretch of the ocean is nowhere more uninterrupted and though it's rocky, with the hills in the backdrop and boulders on-shore, it's a setting beyond compare. We drove past Soup Bowl, Barbados's premier surfing spot with the annual surfing competition on, and I saw youth debut in Barbados. Hordes of bare bodies and hour glass bikinis wafted past. We bypassed the roadside hot dogs, grills and the frolic to go and grab Breadfruit soup at the Round House Inn. And I complained further, "why aren't we living here?" Places like the Round House Inn existed only in the movies, touched up to perfection? Each window opened out to a better world, and each world truly picture postcard perfect.

We should be here. Next time, said the husband. Carrying on back to the Grand Barbados Resort, once Barbados's Aquatic Club of the 1800s and our home for the week, I mused. Barbados? A very upscale, posh and prohibitive Goa with far lesser people, far prettier landscape, unparalleled tranquility catering specifically to a super rich niche. But the same canvas of rural life � single lane roads, fish fry stalls, community living, pubs open all day, unending sugarcane plantations, charming churches, markets milling with local flavour, pavement hawkers � and then mere specs of urbanization. And pretty much the same laid back, couldn't care less, complacent way of life. Yes, Bajans are rather Brit with their immaculate dressing, snobby ways and even local lingo, English spoken in a rush, but they aren't going to slave an extra minute to make that extra buck. Call it good fortune that the West revels in a landscape that's largely embryonic and super luxurious in spots. Comes here to escape the fast pace and celebrates sun, sand, serenity, natural beauty, anonymity and the placid Carib way! Good we aren't on their radar, too many Indians might just revolt against the distinguishing and sought after sloth.

Can�t Not Do Oistins Fish Fry

The spellbinding fishing village of Oistins where Wes Hall swims five miles every morning - and complains that today 98 per cent Bajans can't swim! Friday is the night to hit this open air street party with fish stalls frying the island staple Flying Fish, Mahi Mahi or Dorado. Caribbean beats, local crowd and frolic all the way till 3am.

Bajan Rhythm and Roots show

Fire eaters, stilt walkers, show girls and all of the Caribbean rolled out in a spectacular show featuring dinner and a live band that'll get you on the floor. Also Boatyard for booze, babes and more on Tuesdays.

Nights at St Lawrence Gap

The main nightlife strip lined with restaurants and bars and a boardwalk built along the water. Must do: Reggae Lounge, Pravda, The Ship Inn, Mc Pride's Pub and the lip smacking fine dining haven Pisces. Also the Flying Fish Express that takes you on a pub crawl or even a rum shop tour with booze enroute!

Fine Dine

Must patronize the many top rated fine dining restaurants on every coast. Delectable food guaranteed. Choicest cuisines. Service standards at par with the best in the world. Pisces, Aqua, The Cliff, Mango's by the Sea, Tides, Waterfront Caf� mmmwah! Try Bajan specials steamed flying fish and Cou Cou salad. Bul Jol, Pepper Pot, grilled Dorado, breadfruit soup at Atlantis, Savannah or Grand Barbados hotel cafes.

Barbadiana

Plantation homes tell tales of days when locals were slaves and the white planters lived in luxury. Visit the museums, perhaps stay in one? Live the pirate legend of Sam Lord and visit his gold encased castle. There are four lighthouses in Barbados, go explore. Try rum punch at a local pub at midday - there'll be no dearth of company!