So today, I went to Tobago. At least I can say I made it; even if it did require 8 hours of transit time (NO joke). So, if you ever find yourself in Trinidad, don’t go to Tobago unless you have more than a day to spend there. I actually made it to the ferry (without sleeping last night) at 5:20 am to try to get onto the 6:30 boat. Upon suggestion from the hotel, I walked to the port. I have to admit I was a bit nervous, as security is definitely an issue here, but the lady thought I would have been crazy to pay for a taxi so I did it. And to Tobago, I made it! After quite a bit of waiting… but had no security of a ticket home.
Wingin it at its best… it would be a major problem if I couldn’t get home. Anyways, I got my “night’s” sleep on the ferry ride over and decided to worry about it once I got there. It felt good to nap.
On arrival, I was swarmed by the regular numbnut taxi drivers that I was warned to stay away from cause they would overcharge. One though was persistent so I decided to talk with him, make sure he was safe, and also make sure he was giving me a good deal. I looked at his license plate, it started with H – check. He had an ID on. The local people and police knew him and didn’t try to warn me (not that that would really mean much…) He took me to an old run-down jewelry shop to buy my return ticket home, but it was just a standby ticket. So, on suggestion from the “jeweler” I told my driver we should go back to the terminal to see if I can get an actual ticket. I did, easily and felt much better. My taxi told me, he knows me, he gave you the ticket cause he knows me. I was thinking, OK buddy. As long as you don’t try to overcharge me we’ll be all good. Tobago was much less commercialized than Trinidad, almost like how St. John is to St. Thomas (but not quite as beautiful as St. John, I think). There was lots of cattle on the side of the road, lots of local fruits and veggies being sold on the way to the beach, but it was still looking run-down.
The glass-bottom boat that my driver told me about (which I wanted to take) would cost about $60 for 2.5 hours – (about 9 USD). Well of course the guy tried to overcharge with $90 and my taxi explained he already told me $60. No problem man, everything be cool man. At least taxi man got me my discount. Taxi man pointed out the beach bums. They have nothing to do and are just trying to make a buck/find a white woman to marry. Yep as a result, I got quite a few callouts/compliments, two of which consisted of a desire to swim in my eyes. How Caribbean-ocean-romantic. At least it was appropriate. Two women came up to me and said they are looking for white men for husbands, because the white men treat women better than the black men. They are also trying to find white men/women for their children. They travel quite a bit to find themselves “matches” apparently, including in England. One of the women had barracuda teeth, considering the teeth she even did have. NOT attractive, I should have told her she needs to take a trip to the orthodontist before being able to pick up a first-world white man.
The boat was nice, we saw the coral and the fishies beneath the haziness of the green water, did some snorkeling (decent but not great) and visited the ocean pool (a shallow pool in the middle of the ocean, quite unique and pretty). I met 4 Scottish mates (3 girls 1 boy) and we chatted about our purposes for being here, which I am almost getting sick of doing (that’s weird…) they are zoologists who just finished studying at the university in Trinidad. In their company, I finally ate a “shark and bake” two pieces of delicious bread of some sort with some pieces of fried fish on the side, kinda like a disassembled fish sandwich with better bread. And, there were 4 sauces to choose from; ketchup, hot pepper, garlic, and some green curry tasting one. It’s amazing how much Indian influence there is here. I would like to try the roti before I go; it’s a sandwhich made of fried chicpeas, a huge mean in itself I have been told.
I parted after lunch with my Scottish friends and went for one last dip in the ocean (after being harassed about paying $3 for a beach chair for 10 minutes) uh uh don’t think so… and my tie-dyed t-shirt driver was there, like he said that he would be. “You’re a smart woman who keeps her promises. “ And the compliments continued. “I had to rope you in to get my business, you are cautious and I had to do my homework to prove to you that I was legit.” And he did, and as he admitted, that’s how it should be.
I got in line to check-in and some woman started talking English (or I think it was…) with a super-heavy accent so I just smiled and nodded and said ohhhhhh a few times. These people sound Jamaican, and some of them, as I just expressed, are very tough to understand.
I passed out again on the way home. Felt double-good. On the taxi ride to the terminal I could barely keep my eyes open. My favorite taxi man Anthony called to check up on me. He’ll take me to the airport tomorrow. I walked home, again in the dark. I felt a little better this time, it was still early.
Good day. (Ha, I wrote that subconsciously… this is the greeting they often use here.) Good day it was, I meant. Now goodnight, I meant to get to bed earlier but this will have to do.
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