Just like in Tobago (where there are many bus stops but apperently no buses), transportation is not easy in Trinidad either. We managed to book a rental car at the airport (more or less the only option in the entire country) and then talked one of the local workers to drive us there for a fee. After a 45 min drive we arrived at the airport and got our car.
We started with a drive through the capital, Port of Spain, and saw a couple of their older buildings, nicely situated across from the very large park. As we were told that one of the traditional lunches in Trinidad is Bake and Shark, we went north to Maracas Bay, to sample the local lunch fare and body-surf in decent waves while the deep bass of the local music was humming in the background.
A tropical rain shower kept us cool enough to enjoy are our soft liming session at the local bar.
Great atmosphere, good music and cold beers – what more can you ask for.
The shark, by the way, was very nice (and not as chewy as expected at all). However, we felt somewhat guilty eating shark, as they play an important role in the ecosystem (but so do the other fish, we thought and usually eat).
The drive to and from Maracas Bay was quite picturesque; narrow roads winding up and down the Northern Ridge through dense tropical forest.
Not being used to driving on the left, Josh quickly adapted his style and started to miss some of the potholes as he improved.
After driving through quite a selection of barbed and razor wire installations, we got a little nervous that we would not make it to the Blue Basin. We parallel-parked our car next to a burned out vehicle and started following the path into the jungle. A waterfall and freshwater pool were a nice reward at the end. A few rope and vine swings later, we were back in the car.
As it was getting darker, we reached the largest Hanuman statue outside India (there is a significant number of Indians living here in Trinidad, ie of the app 1.3M inhabitants about 460K are Indian, roughly 37%), observed some of the Hindu procedures and then moved on to drop Ben off at the airport.
Our attempt to then lime hard miserably failed as we did not fit into the “system”, it seemed. The main centers of night life, Avenue (in Port of Spain) and St James (on the way to Chaguaramas) had a less to offer and expected quite a different dress code than our worn out shirts and flip-flops.
We stopped at about every marina or establishment on the way home, just to find weddings, private boat parties etc.
A cold beer at Zanzibar in the boatyard next door was all we managed to get. Maybe we will pull our foulies out tonight and try one more time…