Colossus of Roads.

Post-colonial.

Tortola, British Virgin Islands — Road Town lives up to its name.


Traffic snakes along the shore road, breathing exhaust amidst a patois of horn blasts.


The city’s name is actually based on the nautical term “the roads,” referring to a sheltered place for ships. As if on cue, we round a corner to sail boat masts rising from the harbour like a congregation rejoicing.

Hallelujah.



For sail.

The area is also particularly well-known for yacht charters.

Stepping into town, we’re greeted by familiar greenhouse smells on an overcast morning. And the slow roast of jerk chicken. Crabs scurry into holes alongside the wavy sidewalk.


Brightly coloured homes hang in the green hills like the flowers that dot so many gardens. A bleached blue postal box emblazoned with the Queen’s crest stands sentry at a lonely corner.


It’s a stark reminder of the monarchy’s faded glory.