Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Day 2 or Port of Spain in Two Hours or Less

I thought it would be so amazing to wake up to the sound of tropical birds chirping. Instead, this morning somewhere around 4:00am, I woke to the feeling of my laxative kicking in. "It's showtime," I muttered as I rolled out of my reasonably fluffy bed and padded to the bathroom. When the fireworks ended I crawled back in bed and about an hour later is when the tropical birds started. But the one right smack outside my widow was louder and more annoying than a French rooster at the crack of ass dawn. Hello ear plugs. But eventually that guy shut up and I could extract the pink foam in my ear canals and enjoy the more sedate chirping of the other birds all around. It's like living in an aviary down here.

Shortly after my nondescript breakfast the rain started. It's funny, but in Trinidad, "it's raining" has a whole new meaning. Good thing I have a brand new rain jacket for my planned walk through downtown Port of Spain today, or do I? Flashback to last night on the plane, picture myself napping on said rain jacket as a pillow, remember myself leaving it on the plane. Shit and double shit. I found myself turning to my hostess: "I am ashamed to ask you this, but do you have a Walmart?" There could be an upside to US world commercial domination after all. But no, no Walmart. They have KFC in Trinidad, they have Churches effing Chicken, but no Walmart. And I have no rain jacket. We suck at world domination.

I ventured out anyway, determined to see as much of the town on foot as I could, not minding the wet because in this heat it is actually a bit of a relief. But alas, my tour of POS was a complete bust. My hostess told me which areas to avoid walking, but I think pretty much all of Port of Spain has seen better days, although I am not sure when those days were. Maybe before the Europeans came, when the island was covered in lush tropical jungle and no one lived here but the half naked Amerindians? Where those the better days?

The "Magnificent Seven," a row of seven colonial buildings dating from the early 1900's, including the offices of the Prime Minister, are not so magnificent any more. Moldy stucco, moldy wood, moldy stone (I'm not sure if stone can mold, but if it can, then the stone on these buildings was moldy). Who got the idea that construction in the tropic zone was a good idea? How does anything ever set or dry here? There was probably a damn good reason why equatorial peoples evolved as scantily clad hunter gatherer tribes who lived in shelters made from palm trees and shit (well, not literally shit). There is nothing to rot or mold or get soggy. Silly white people: "Hey! I have a great idea! Let's introduce northern construction materials!!! Won't that be fun? We can build something with dry wall and then watch it mold and then immediately repair it and keep repairing it until it finally crumples and then we can rebuild it! Good times!"

Truly, I have nothing to report on Port of Spain other than to avoid it altogether unless you are coming here for Carnival (which by all accounts is legendary, rivals Rio's, and draws revelers from the world over). The best part of the two hour trek was Dexter, a local who joined me shortly after leaving my guest house. He asked if I knew that Barak Obama was going to deliver us to the Promised Land. "Well, I don't know about that, but I voted for him if that counts any," I said. "No, he will deliver us. Martin Luther King - you know Martin Luther King? - Yes, he had a dream of the Promised Land and he didn't get to see it, but Barak Obama is going to take us there." UM. OK. Sure. If you say so Trini dude. In addition to MLK and Obama, Dexter covered Napolean Bonaparte, the American Revolution in 1776, former CIA director George Tenet, the new CIA director Leon Panetta, and the origination of the US Marine Corps. It was the most interesting coversation all day.

I gave up on Port of Spain, hoofed back to my room, grabbed a coconut along the way (guy hacked it open and I slurped the juice), showered off the wet and the sweat, and napped in self defense until is was time to retreat to the airport for the rendezvous with the Earthwatch People.

My guy with the coconuts:

June 20, 2010

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