I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A SUCKER FOR A GOOD romantic novel. I mean the epic saga kind, with high drama, always a period piece, with some exotic landscape as its backdrop. Well, walking into The Crane is like stepping into the pages of fiction. Everywhere is drama, from the expansive windswept beach, to the craggy cliff that the resort is perched upon. Walking across the garden, dotted with mythical statues, it’s easy to picture our heroine standing at the edge of the cliff, the wind playing havoc with her petticoats, blonde curls wisping around her face as she searches the horizon for her long lost love. This feeling, I find out, is more than just my imagination or my lust for
lore. The Crane, in St Phillip, Barbados, was built in 1887, and there is a deep sense of history in the atmosphere. The original coral stone structure is still there, with the newer buildings standing in quiet reverence and perfect harmony with it. As I sat on the edge of the cliff, I became quite excited at the thought of living my very own romance novel, if only for the evening.... Our story opens with the modern-day heroine (namely moi) pulling into the driveway of The Crane, the pale salmon buildings regal on the horizon. As she walked down the open hall towards the lobby, she was startled by a flash of blue, so perfect and electrifying, it seemed unreal. It was The Crane pool, with the turbulent and awesome Caribbean Sea spread out behind it, tumbling towards an endless sky. Lost in a reverie of turquoise, she was interrupted by a lilting Bajan accent, “Welcome to The Crane!” Snapping back to reality, she admired the elegant lobby area, with dark mahogany floors and chic, overstuffed white couches. The check-in process was smooth, welcoming and efficient, as though they knew how anxious she was to explore further. Friendly Alexander, the porter, chatted as he swung her bags onto a golf cart and chugged off to her room. Upon opening the heavy door, she caught her breath. There it was again, that mesmerising expanse of sapphire just beyond her windows. Shortly, she came back to earth, to find a grinning Alexander showing her how to use the different light and air conditioner switches. A flush warmed her cheeks as she realised how awestruck she must have looked, not unlike a child in a candy store. She quickly recovered her composure, and tried to remember how to act like the sophisticated travel writer that she was. Once she closed the door, however, she looked around with impish glee. This was hers! All hers!
The breezy coral stone walls and gleaming dark floors, the backdrop for the all white furniture. The
two-room suite was equipped with everything – full kitchen, dinette, dishwasher, even a washer and dryer! She thought to herself, how easy it would be just to never leave. Humming softly, she strolled through to the bedroom, and stood for a second, admiring the magnificent carved four-poster bed, at least three feet off the ground. Through the louvred archway was the bathroom, with the soft light bouncing off the marble floor and mirrored closets. The jacuzzi tub sat regally toward the back, the throne element to the room. A mischievous smile played upon her lips as she noticed
the romantic details – the candles, the bubble bath. Out on the balcony, she was washed in soft a rose light: the sun was going down, and she did not want to miss it. She hurried to change into an eyelet cotton sundress, and made her way down to the pool area. The view from the pool ledge was breathtaking – as the brochure aptly recognises, “This is the intersection of Heaven and Earth.” The colours dazzled her, the pink, lavender and tangerine sky kissing the swirling palette of the turquoise and cobalt ocean, and melting into the bronze sand. The image was powerful, Nature in its most awe-inspiring form, and emotion welled up inside of her. Later, seated at the pool bar, enjoying a complimentary welcome rum punch, she was in a reflective mood. Again, her thoughts were interrupted by that musical accent, as Alexander offered her fresh sea grapes from an overhanging tree. “The sweetest ones are at the top,” he promised, not realising that the statement was a perfect description of The Crane itself. Situated on high, atop a cliff, The Crane’s unique vantage point creates a natural elegance, a rustic sophistication with a symphony of waves and wildlife. With the sun just disappearing, and the entire world becoming that elusive colour of indigo
that only appears at twilight, she felt lips brushing her neck. Finally, he was here...