Author: Rosie

The bell in front of the house, which used to hang in the tower was rung to summon the slaves from the fields after a days work.   On a more sinister note, the bell was also rung if a runaway slave was seen escaping….then the hounds were released….

Trindad is a totally walkable wee town, there are so many colourful sights and plenty of places to stop,  refresh and people watch in the shade.  The main square is the Plaza Mayor, where a band plays continuously at the bar halfway up the steps and tourists sit in the shade of the trees and the shadow of the church. 

Ronaldo drives us carefully in his Taxi, the road to Trinidad is slow, narrow and filled with potholes.  He tells us that it is the time of the year that the crabs come down from the mountains where they live in trees and make their way to the beach where they mate and have their babies.

Today, this city is another time capsule to the revolution.  It is painted in pastel and whites and is much more oppulant, modern and maintained.  Horse and carts still traverse the streets with their drivers talking on the latest mobile phones.

6 tourists are standing on the roadside in the burning sun watching as our taxis get smaller and smaller and further away.  Rosie waves and says ‘bye bye bags, passports and money’…then watches as it dawns on the faces of a couple of the others that this could be an elaborate bag swindle….the French couple shrug, show no emotion at all and light another cigarette.