Leaving tobago

Trip Start Oct 01, 2006
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Flag of Trinidad and Tobago  ,
Wednesday, December 20, 2006

i've been in tobago just over a week.. i'm heading back to port of

spain to see the build up to christmas and check out the southern half

of the island. anyway, so i'm logging in to quickly tell you what i've

been up to in this tropical island of tobago whilst upload a few pics

to help you overcome the bordem that is my blog...

so

thinking way back to my first morning, i know i was feeling great for

once as i was to pussy to go out in the dark last night

and search for a beer..

so when i get out of the surfside hotel i

was staying at, when i turn left i can see the sea with alll the

different bles imaginable to my

right, it is like a magnet so i had to go down thewre and take a look,

along the shoreline is a couple of stalls selling the everyday

nick naks that the caribbean people like to sell.. beaded neclaces,

calabash engravings, coconut scupltures etc. anyway one hustling guy

calls

me over saying.."you know them camoflage shorts aren't allowed here" ..

i'm thinking i've heard this a hundred times before in

barbados but i carry on talking to the guy, who has stupidly put his

stall underneath a macchinal tree (see previous photo album).. anyway

the gist of it was, he liked my shorts and wanted me to give it to him..

i said noway, they're my favourite ones.. so he asks if i can send him

a pair when i get back to england.. i'd had enuf by then so walked on

along

a road that looked like it was going nowhere and i'd have to look like

an idiotic tourist and turn back from some shady dead-end..

luckily after a few minutes walking you get to some security barrier

with a friendly security guard who charges you 17tt for a plastic

wristband so that you can carry on to the pigeon point reserve area..

after another long walk just to get to the beach whilst looking up at

the

overhanging coconut trees, ready to dive out the way of an overhead

projectile, you get to the sandy beach and sea encircled by the bucoo

reef.. on one end theres a pier which is apparently the most

photographed

in trinidad and tobago, the other end the reef comes close to shore and

beyond that the sand turns craop, with debris all over it.. so i had a

few beers waiting for sunset then off i went in search of entertainment

for the night.. i found a beach bar called 'bagos'.. it has a mixed

crowd of tourists and locals and is run by an international and

interracial couple, the white guy looks a bit timid and the tobagian

girl reminds me of serena williams, i think theres no need to guess who

wears the trousers in that relationship...  at the bar i

get talking to a few german people and speil the usual

talk about how long i've been here, why i'm here, where i'm from.. and

the question i find personal but everyone asks is how did you get the

money.. i'm definatly sick of that last one.. anyway after the german

lightweights went home due to too much beer i latched onto

a party of 3 french guys who just come from barbados after sailing for

3 months from france to cape verde then across the atlantic, i got on

well with them.. i played some terrible games of pool and

let my country down, drank a whole

lot of beers and

found myself in an empty club called 'the deep' which is

ment to be quite popular, but just not on tuesday nights..

on the way home we tried to get a shortcut across some hotels that we

thought were in the way of our route home, i scaled about 4 walls,

jumped a couple bushes and climbed a fence in front of a security gaurd

who took no notice of us probably coz we were just drunk, white

tourists..

next day i hit the store bay beach, and recounted last

nights route and walls and realised instead of walking along a straight

road, we jumped over walls of hotels and then back onto the same

straight road that we'd left.. at store bay you can get a pretty decent

trini much, i ried some green turdy looking stuff i believe was casava

(spelling?) along with the usual chicken, rice and some cornbread

stuff..  the next day i took a 2dollar bus to the capital

called scarborough.. you have to buy a ticket before you get on board,

i ask a trini girl what the deal was, so she was obviously some church

going good samaritan who took pity on me as she gave me an unused bus

ticket from the bottom of her pocket, the bus driver took it, ripped it

in half and gave me the bit which had a bit of bumfluff on it and i

hope an afro hair not a pubic hair stuck in the crease.. so scarborough

is tiny, mill hill broadway is about 4 times the size of it, i walked

uphill to the fort and relaxed abit, taking in the

interesting museum and read bout the sale of slaves, the slave names

they

were given and what health they were in.. in another

file about the slave laws imposed where

nearly every outcome

was death to a slave apart from if a slave knew that someone had

runaway he'd get some insane amount of lashings.. and then the last

manual

was about how the slaves revoted and killed the slavemasters and how

many ran away and escaped to trinidad to get freedom.  so

after that because tobago is so small i was walking back to the bus

stop and i hear my name being called out.. it was the french guys in a

hired jeep, i jumped in over the back as the roof was down and we sped

off to some inland waterfalls..  the french guys were

going crazy at the wheel, maybe after 3 months of going 5mph at sea

they needed to get some adrenalin going.. inland tobago is like some

big hilly tropical forest with cut out bendy and winding roads that are

dotted with tiny hamlets.. a few times i thought we were gonna go over

the edge and luckily they was nothing coming round the blind corners

they were hurtling round.. what got me was jaques stood up through the

roof, shouting down rally comands in french to avoid the potholes and

stray dogs..

i got home safely, showered and was walking down to the

meet up point at bago's beach bar when halfway there the bars lights

turned off to close for the night, after checking the empty bar for

them  i walked to the pub next to my hotel for a beer

where i met a hustler

called Irwin.. he's an old bearded trampy

looking tobagian with a dodgy eye, i got chatting to him but he was

soon asking me for money, cigarettes and beer so i left him to it on

the bench alone and retired

to bed..

next day i thought i'd try

something different than sleeping and swimming at the beach.. so i

rented a sea kayak off a beach bum called Clint, he

was cool and was trying to educating me on socialist politics then he

wanted me to help him in his capitalist venture of importing some

clarks shoes that he said he'd be able to sell no worries and we can

split the profits.. i managed to convince him that i couldn't be

bothered to go through with his idea and then paid him his 40tt and set

out to sandy point on my kayak.. i got to this desolate beach that is

right under the flight path to the airport no worries, relaxed, sat

back and video'd the tobago express coming in to land.. i turned round

to paddle back and the muscles in my legs siezed up.. it took ten

minutes to get there but a hard slog of pain for half an hour to get

back ashore where i rewarded myself with a water and a carib beer..

that night i met up with alex from germany and the 3 french guys to do

some pub crawling around crown point.. whilst liming at a small rum

bar, the french guy, peter, ran into the hustler Irwin that i'd met

yesterday.. Irwin called me over for a 'fisted respect touch' and i

went back to peters mates and told them that he's a hustler and they

didn't care.. as Irwin i went to talk to peter, and i told him he's a

hustler.. but peters already lent him 40tt because he thought i knew

irwin.. obviously suckered in when he saw irwin 'respect' me.. laughing

it off down the street we hitchhiked to a nice bar called 'bamboo

cafe'.. i think they had a problem with mozzies as there are those blue

elctric bug killers permanently smoking with fly carcases, green rings

of repellent lit and the waitress brings us a bottle of mozzie spray

along with our cocktails.

On the sunday, tobago has the 'Sunday school' which has nothing to do

with

church but is a big street party in a small village at Bucoo.. Now the

french had left i was left to venture there alone..i went to my local

'bago's bar' and limed around scouting for a lift to the party..

here i managed to get a drunk guy from chaguanas in trinidad called

"fiji" to give me a lift.. it was quite a bargain he bought me a stag

beer at the bar, a stag beer on the way and gave me cigarettes.. the

guy was crazy.. when he would talk to me he would go into some

pyschotic laugh and kept on saying. "we trinis are crazy, i'm a

trinidangerman".. throughout the ten minute journey i was thinking

either we are gonna die in a head on collision due to his drunken state

or i've just got into a car of a gang leader and he has got a willing

passenger ready for a kidnapping or just a jacking.. so in some miracle

i arrive alive, and quickly leave his sight and again coz tobago's so

small i run into Alex the german, we get some caribbean munch, sat

drinking at hendrixs' bar chatting about his experiences on LSD and then left to get a

taxi home.. apparently we were told by many people along the strip at

Bucoo that you will never get a taxi cheaper than 90tt back to crown

point.. so we walk up the road, away from the crowds, hail a taxi and

Alex gives goes to chat to him with all our 1tt notes that add up to

35tt in total and manage to persuade him to get us back, i think he

done it coz the the bundle of 35tt in 1tt denominations looked quite

hefty.. throughout the journey Alex was chatting shit to the driver all

the way in his german accent and was making me laugh all the way home,

i think the driver may have been drinking to but instead off the 80mph

that Fiji had reached on the way there, our driver now was poodling

along at about 20mph, it's strange to think it's quite acceptable to

drink and drive here just because it's not illegal, i know in London

the police are all geared up at christmas to stop it, but here i think

they might lack the resources..

The next morning i went to hire a jeep for my last 2 days, on the way

there

i stopped off at 'Pizza boys' to get a panini sandwich, i was the only

person in the shop, i counted 4 employees pretending to look busy, i

had eye contact with everyone of them but they didn't want to know,

after 10 minutes of waiting patiantly, my belly was now caving in so i

just turned my back to go and search for something quick, i got to the

pizza boys down the road but all their panini food was frozen so i had

to settle for some fried chicken for breakfast..

when signing

out my jeep from a girl called Crystal who works for the rental firm

[insert rental firm name], she seemed quite strict reminding me off the

reports of how the american imigration offices are nowadays, she asked

me if any tobagoan was going to drive the vehicle, i replied 'no', she

said 'are you sure?' 'yes' i said.. then still not believing me she

went on asking me if i know anyone on the island that might want to

drive the jeep.. she wanted to know everything and warn me on

everything.. when i got outside i innocently asked how to take the roof

down on the convertible jeep, i instantly got back a "why d'ya wanna

get all dat sun!" i tried to find a witty reply but was a bit

scared on what sort of comeback she'd have..

Anyway to cut this long entry short the next two days i sped around the

island seeing all the beaches, bays, towns and watefalls on

offer, i picked up hitchhikers including some dreadlocked guy with a

rusty saw in his hand i also passed by 3 little kids who had a heavy

sack of rice their mum had sent them out to get and felt a little

guilty speeding passed them as a lot of the roads are quite remote and

the next car might not stop either.. so i'd say argyle falls,

englishmans bay and pigeon point were my favourits stops around the

island..

Getting the tobago express back got me a little bit pissed off, when i

bought the ticket the guy made out that if he makes the ticket 'open'

meaning i can get on it anytime it would be better, whilst in the queue

i realised that people behind me were getting shuffled to the front of

the queue as they'd had the time printed on there receipt, so basically

my ticket ment bloody "stand-by", so next time i'll make the guy get me

on the next flight available with the time written on my ticket..

anyway i arrived safely in Port of Spain and felt at home driving back

down the rosevelt-churchil highway back to Downtown..
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