Barbados

Days 1 and 2: Wrecks, rays, and starry rain

Barbados is internationally famous for three things: tropical beaches with impossibly turquoise water, rum (lots of rum), and — let’s be completely honest here — Rihanna. We didn’t come for the music, though we’re thoroughly enjoying the soundtrack that seems to play everywhere. We’re not big drinkers unless you count the alarming amount of water required to stay hydrated in the Caribbean heat. We came for the ocean, plain and simple. Eric has been diving deeper into freediving lately (pun absolutely intended, no apologies), and Barbados has a reputation as a freediving paradise. It seemed like the obvious choice, or at least that’s what we told ourselves when booking flights.

We hit the water on day one. Literally hit it — there was no easing in, no “let’s get acclimated first,” just immediate full immersion. We connected with Alex Davis, a professional freediver who holds multiple national freediving records for Barbados — the kind of credentials that make you simultaneously impressed and slightly inadequate about your own aquatic ambitions. Alex coached Eric on proper technique and led us through the local underwater highlights with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where all the good stuff is hiding.

The main attraction? A genuine graveyard of shipwrecks scattered along the seafloor: a decommissioned military boat, a submarine that saw better days, and — our personal favorite for sheer narrative interest — a former cocaine-smuggling vessel. All of them now host thriving communities of coral and reef fish, which we suppose is a happy ending for everyone except the original cargo owners. With Alex as our guide, Eric dove down and swam through small openings in the rusting hulks, trying not to think too hard about structural integrity, while Bea stayed at more reasonable depths and enjoyed the view from above while providing excellent moral support.

The freediving training was rigorous and methodical, but frequently interrupted by a parade of uninvited guests: curious sea turtles gliding gracefully between us (show-offs), huge tarpon cruising past like they owned the place (they do), and even a manta ray — a genuine rarity in these waters that had all three of us momentarily forget we were supposed to be working on breathing technique and instead just gape at this magnificent creature that clearly didn’t get the memo about being rare.

The weather cooperated mostly, delivering the expected Caribbean sunshine, though we did get absolutely hammered by torrential rain for a few intense minutes mid-session. Here’s the unexpected silver lining that made it worth the temporary discomfort: diving down a few meters and looking up at the surface through the rain created a visual effect we’d never experienced before. The raindrops hitting the water looked like staring up at a starry sky — millions of droplets creating a constantly shifting, pulsating constellation effect that was simultaneously disorienting and beautiful. We’re filing that under “unplanned magic we’ll remember forever.”

• Accommodation: Frangipani Villa

Days 3 and 4: The intersection of invasive and tasty

We spent these two days almost entirely in the water — swimming, snorkeling, freediving, and generally behaving like people who forgot they’re mammals designed to breathe air — but the real highlight was learning to spearfish with Alex.

Alex is a vocal advocate for responsible spearfishing as a conservation tool for controlling invasive species, which is a much more ecologically sound pitch than “let’s go shoot fish for fun.” Naturally, we started by learning to identify which fish fall at the intersection of invasive and delicious — a Venn diagram we’d never considered before but now find fascinating. Lionfish? Invasive and tasty. Parrotfish? Native and protected. Don’t shoot the parrotfish. We took notes.

Then came the actual spearguns. We don’t have much experience with guns of any kind — does paintball count? — so the whole thing felt awkward and slightly intimidating at first. Alex patiently walked us through the mechanics: how to load, how to aim, how not to accidentally shoot ourselves or each other, which seemed like important information. Soon enough we were hitting our practice targets with reasonable accuracy, and we graduated to the real thing with a mixture of excitement and concern.

Swimming against the current while looking for fish was significantly tougher than anticipated — we have newfound respect for people who do this regularly. Fortunately, Alex had lent us high-end carbon fins: his spare set for Eric, his girlfriend’s for Bea (we felt honored to use competition-grade equipment). Compared to our regular fins, these made us feel like we had underwater superpowers. That part was genuinely fun. The actual fish-hunting part? That was humbling.

Here’s what we learned: fish are fast, suspicious, and far smarter than they have any right to be. You’d spot a promising target, turn to ask Alex “Is this one okay to shoot?” and by the time you look back approximately 0.3 seconds later, it’s completely vanished. Gone. Nowhere to be found. Possibly laughing at you from inside a nearby coral formation. Eric and Alex would freedive into the depths, spot something promising, get their aim lined up, and watch it dart into rocky crevices just out of reach with what we can only describe as calculated spite.

After many, many failed attempts that tested our patience and our egos, we (and by “we,” we mean “Alex”) finally landed a lionfish — invasive, definitely edible, and sized perfectly for sashimi, though not quite big enough for dinner for three humans. It was simultaneously the most hard-earned and the smallest snack we’ve ever had. Alex sliced it up with a knife he’d brought for exactly this purpose, and we ate it.

And yes, it tasted absolutely darn good. Worth every minute of aquatic fumbling.

Days 5 and 6: Anime fish, orange clouds, and sensory overload

We haven’t done much on this vacation besides spend time in the water. Barbados has plenty to offer on land — beaches for lounging, historic sites for touring, rum distilleries for sampling — but we’ve discovered that we’re genuinely happiest when we’re submerged and breathing is optional. Some people need beach reading; we apparently need coral reefs and shipwrecks. We’re not judging either lifestyle choice, but we know which one is ours.

We spent our last two days revisiting the shipwrecks Alex showed us at the start of the trip, now feeling considerably more confident about our freediving abilities. One of the wrecks sits just a few meters below the surface (well within Bea’s freediving range, thank you very much — we’re celebrating the small victories here), so we dove down repeatedly to the sandy seabed and explored the thriving ecosystem that has completely taken over the rusted hull. Coral growing on metal, fish darting through gaps that used to be portholes, the whole thing looked like touring an underwater salvage yard that had been reclaimed by nature and transformed into something unexpectedly beautiful.

One fish in particular became our unofficial mascot over the course of the week. We spotted it in the exact same nook every single day: big eyes, perfectly round face, what can only be described as a smiling mouth. We nicknamed it the “anime fish” because the resemblance to a cheerful cartoon character was simply too strong to ignore. We’re fairly sure it’s actually some variety of puffer fish, but “anime fish” is both more fun and more descriptively accurate. We like to think it recognized us by the end, though realistically it probably just liked that particular hiding spot and we were persistent stalkers.

Today we completely lost track of time, which is both easy to do underwater and a sign of a successful vacation. When we finally surfaced and looked around, slightly disoriented, the sun was setting and the clouds had turned a dramatic fiery orange that looked almost artificial in its intensity. A small sea turtle paddled past at exactly that moment and, whether out of genuine curiosity or misplaced hope that we had snacks (we did not), decided to swim in leisurely circles around us for several minutes.

For a brief window of time, we didn’t know where to look — the spectacular sunset above or the adorable turtle below — and both of us were trying to take in both at once while also trying to stay afloat and not drown while distracted by beauty. We’re calling that a very good problem to have and possibly the perfect encapsulation of this entire trip.