In the early 1980s, the late country music singer-songwriter John Denver wrote a love song called Shanghai Breezes. Denver wrote the song for his wife Annie during a month-long tour of China. The tender lyrics remind us how we are all connected, regardless of where we are on the planet and the many differences that divide us. And the moon and the stars are the same as you see; it’s the same old sun up in the sky; and your voice in my ear is like heaven to me; like the breeze here in old Shanghai.
With the Denver lyrics in mind, I’m reflecting on the concept of connection in relation to human life, the planet, and the vast expanse of the universe around us. We are connected through blood, friendship, geography, cultural ties, historical events, the moon and stars above, and the air we breathe. We are connected through our similarities and our differences. Yin and Yang, male and female, good and bad, black and white; diversity is essential to life as we know it.
The study of cybernetics in nature focuses on separate but related systems, such as organisms, ecologies, and even entire societies; these systems are interconnected through a complex feedback loop with multiple layers of interacting heterogeneous components. Each system has the potential to effect changes in another. Even the most subtle act can result in a resounding transformation across multiple layers and systems. The teachings of Zen Buddhism hold that there is a universal path to enlightenment, a meditative state of mindfulness and presence, that connects all living beings with one another.
Diversity connects us through rich traditions, distinct cultures and fascinating stories to share. The collective social conscience tends to neglect the ties that unite us in favor of the differences that separate us. Melting pots help us stay connected, while gentrification can foster ignorance. The Lowcountry of South Carolina is no exception. Much of what we know and love about the Lowcountry, from the architecture to the plantations, the dialect and the cuisine, can be traced back to our Caribbean connection; however, for those of us who live and work here, history is lost among malls, franchises, and cookie cutter communities.
In 1670, the first group of planters and slaves sailed from Speightstown in northern Barbados and landed at Albemarle Point on the Ashley River, where the British colony of Charles Towne settled. With its hauntingly beautiful coastline, soothing gentle breezes, streets lined with lush tropical greenery, classic individual homes representing every color of the rainbow, and the Gullah dialect, a West African derivative, it’s impossible to deny that the heart and soul of the Caribbean still runs through the veins of Charleston.
Names like Gibbes, Yeamans, Drayton, and Middleton recall Charleston’s Caribbean roots, as Charleston was settled in part by English-born Barbadian planters and enslaved Africans. They brought us the plantation system that became the lifeblood of Charleston’s economy until the end of the Civil War. Thomas Drayton and his wife Ann left Barbados for Charles Towne and established Magnolia Plantation in 1679. The Drayton family owned the property for the next 300 years. At the start of the American Revolution in 1775, Magnolia was at the height of the rice planting season. Several of Drayton’s sons became involved in the war, with William Henry Drayton taking a leading role. In 1779, the plantation was sacked by British General Augustine Prevost. John Drayton fled the plantation with his family, but suffered a seizure and died while crossing the Cooper River.
When my husband and I visited Peaches and Quiet on the southern tip of Barbados several months ago, the Carolina-Barbados connection was apparent. On the day of our departure, we felt sorry for a Toronto family as they prepared to return to frigid temperatures, while the only icy blast awaiting us was the one inside our own freezer. Perhaps it was the warm breezes blowing off the sea, the tropical flowers and emerald palm trees scattered like rainbow sparks, or the sense of tranquility that enveloped my body and soul that reminded me of Charleston. We owe much of this gift to the early settlers of Barbados and their descendants, who fought hard for our independence, braving the elements to weave a beautiful new tapestry from the original threads of their lush island home.
Peaches and Quiet is charming and simple. British owners Adrian and Margaret Loveridge have created a tropical sanctuary where simple elegance meets natural beauty and their story is one of passion and determination. After 42 years working in the tourism industry, Adrian was in dire need of a vacation. He surprised his wife Margaret with a three-week trip to Barbados, where the couple rented a car and explored the island. When they stepped onto the Peaches of Quiet grounds, a divine spark was ignited. They both knew that, despite the dilapidated state of the hotel, the place had a special magic. Adrian explained how the incredible view and whitewashed Moorish architecture spoke to him, compelling him to return the next day. “I think buildings have a soul,” Adrian said. After spending several days inside his tropical oasis where the gentle breeze never ceases and the turquoise sea crashes against the sheer edges of the sandstone and coral cliffs that rise directly above the sea, I understood exactly what he meant.
Four days after setting foot on the premises for the first time, the couple decided to buy the hotel. Margaret arranged for the sale of her house in England, while a British bank promised to finance 90% of the purchase, but later withdrew from the deal. A lot of people would have left it right here. Instead, one couple, who hadn’t even considered buying a hotel, were so drawn to the place that they couldn’t imagine going back. Adrian reached out to 27 different banks for help before finding relief in the most unlikely place: a former business rival turned friend who offered to float his money. Now, twenty years later, they continue to face a multitude of challenges and obstacles, from the shortage of materials and supplies on the island (Adrian admits he would do anything for a Home Depot) to cultural differences in work ethic.
Peaches and Quiet was built in 1973, when a wealthy Canadian hired English architect Ian Morrison to build the hotel of his dreams. When the original owner fell into deep debt, an old sea captain bought the place at auction. Legend has it that the hotel was home to the first gambling hall, where the Prime Minister of Barbados, Tom Adams, enjoyed the camaraderie of gentlemen and a constant supply of beautiful women. At the time Adrian and Margaret purchased the hotel in 1988, the hotel’s 17 buildings spread over 4.5 acres were in disrepair. All the roofs had to be replaced, the pool needed renovation, and according to Margaret, the place was “overgrown and loveless.” Despite the challenges, the couple shared a common vision and dedicated their lives to making their vision a reality.
Margaret and Adrian’s philosophy of service is reflected in their self-serve bar, where guests help themselves to unlimited rum punch, beer, water and soft drinks throughout the day while keeping track of their own checks. This is by far the best value on the island, as Adrian and Margaret live by the philosophy of under-promising and over-delivering. The 22 guest suites are simple, clean and comfortable. The buffet-style breakfast is simple and satisfying if you don’t mind sharing it with the beautiful birds and friendly resident cats that roam the premises. Dinners are discreet, quiet and romantic. We dined under the soft glow of candlelight with a blanket of twinkling stars overhead. Margaret promotes a healthy wine list that will satisfy even the most selective connoisseurs. The dinner menu changes daily with a choice of meat or seafood. Most of the ingredients are locally grown, the sauces are tasty and light, and the freshly baked breads are well worth the extra carbs.
Sitting with Margaret as I listened to her story, I wished we could extend our visit a little longer. “We put everything we have into this property, and despite the challenges, I still believe in the beauty of this place.” Margaret gazed into the distance, as if she reflected on the last twenty years of her life, which in many ways were as jagged and unforgiving as the stone cliffs that ringed the edge of the sea before us. With acres of lemon, lime, and grapefruit trees, multitudes of tropical flowers, and the sounds of crashing surf, I was able to begin to see this place through Margaret’s eyes and connect with her vision. “We’re not here to make a lot of money,” said Margaret. “As long as we have a roof over our heads, good food in our stomachs and a glass of wine in our hands, we will be happy and we believe the same is true for our guests.”
I thought of my own home in Charleston and the shared history of the South Carolina Lowcountry and this lush Caribbean island. I guess that’s all any of us really need, I thought to myself: delicious food, the ocean breeze, and lots of good wine. We are all connected in more ways than we realize, and we have many stories to share. I soaked up the beauty of my surroundings for one last moment and prepared myself for a long journey back across the sea.