I took the bus from the airport to the city and then walked to TStays hotel. It is a small, modern hotel with just a few rooms and keypad locks throughout. Someone opened the iron gate for me, but then I tried to enter the code on my room’s digital lock it did not work.
A young maid looked at me with contempt. These old people are good for nothing, they can’t even unlock the door. The manager came and let me into my room. I went out for dinner, and when I returned, I couldn’t get into the room again. It turned out there had been a misunderstanding; I was supposed to be in the room across the hall, which is why the code didn’t work. However, my reputation in the maid’s eyes was irreparably ruined. For the entire four days, she continued to look at me as if I were some ancient, senile creature unworthy of having my room made up.
My impression of other Trinidadians was different. I was buying two mangoes at the market, and the vendor gave me a whole bag instead of just two. I barely managed to eat them all before they went bad. I was boarding a bus when I realized I was supposed to buy a paper ticket at the ticket office. There wasn’t enough time to run to the office, the bus wouldn’t have waited for me. A man took an extra ticket out of his wallet and handed it to me; he refused to accept the money for it, and so on.
It was sweltering in the city during the day, so life really only kicks in after sunset. Unless you head to the beach, wandering the streets is hardly a pleasant experience. Still, my time in Trinidad was short, so I just had to suck it up and brave the heat.
I set myself the goal of mailing a postcard I was carrying with me all the way from French Guiana. I crisscrossed half the city before finding a post office that would actually accept the hapless thing. It turned out to be tucked away in a small room on the third floor of a high-rise behind an unmarked door. I was pleased with my problem-solving skills.
One day, I climbed a hill topped by a small fort built by the British. Fort George saw no military action but was considered impregnable, and was therefore used to store important documents and valuables. Later, the fort was converted into a signal station until it became an attraction in 1964.
Another day was spent on a trip to a waterfall. Apart from me, the only others who signed up were a young couple from New York. The three of us had a wonderful time. The hike up to the waterfall followed the bed of a shallow stream. Our guide looked after us like a mother hen after her chicks making sure, heaven forbid, that we didn’t stumble or slip anywhere.
After lunch, we went swimming at the beach alongside the locals. They say the beaches on Tobago are more beautiful, but I didn’t make it there.
As for the future plans, I managed to reach a compromise with my husband. He insisted that I abandoned the idea of flying to Venezuela and returned home instead. I agreed to the first part, but he had to give in on the second. I exchanged my ticket to Venezuela for one to El Salvador, a country I hadn’t visited yet. It turned out I would still get to see a new country, just a different one, without heading home quite yet.