Adventures in the Bush - Part II

I've just had breakfast, Doubles: lightly curried chickpeas squashed between two flat, fried bakes. Yum yum. And more Eine. *sigh* I'm floating on a sea of contendedness.

Where was I? Ah yes...

We left the teak field, by continuing down the 'track'. When we'd made our way out, the Government Man rang his man at the bottom of the road. The police had arrived and were swarming around, doing police things. Rather than get caught up in that circus, because we had nothing useful to add, we kept going.

The 'track' eventually became a 'road' that led through several 'villages', I suspect hamlets are a better description. We past Moruga. We had travelled so far south we could see the sea through the coconut trees. My brother and his friend agreed to part company, his friend would drop off the two field workers and we would return the Government Man. More driving. It took about an hour to get there.

Yesterday, I saw parts of rural Trinidad I'd never seen before. Rural houses are generally constructed using the same template whatever the construction material, either wood or concrete: on stilts, with a large porch out the front. The stilts help keep the living quarters cool as it allows the wind to travel around and through the building. Underneath can be used as a car park or when the children get older and marry, bricked up for more living space. Also useful in areas subject to flooding. The porch is the hub of the house, the way kitchens in temperate climes used to be. That's the place where family members gather to chat at the end of the day, to each other and their neighbours walking on the road. Entertaining takes place on the porch. The low walls of the porch are usually decked out in pots of colourful houseplants. It's a welcoming space. Gardens varied. Some had trimmed their hedges and topiaried to be the envy of Capability Brown, others were left to the chickens and pothounds.

Pothound. (n) a dog of indeterminate breed that arrives as soon as the pots rattle in the kitchen.

We dropped off the Government Man and headed off to Mayaro, via Rio Claro. It took us a couple of hours. I'm so proud of my brother, he stopped and asks for directions without prompting or muttering. I made him laugh after yet another stop by the side of the road. I told him of all of my qualities, my ability to pee in the bush, should be most prized by any man with marriage in mind. Bless him, he never complained at the many stops. In this heat it is really important to keep hydrated and my bladder is the size of a hamster's purse. I'm not proud, I'll pee anywhere: public toilets, the bush, the sea, the side of the road. Public toilets in Trinidad are an exercise in faith in your immune system. I walk with my own toilet paper.

When we got to my brother's estate. We had a brief discussion about provisions. We stopped off and picked up lunch from the local Chinese restaurant and a crate of beer from a bar. Please understand that rural does not mean uncivillised, Mayaro might not be an urban centre, but it has the important things: a market, a gas station, bars and a couple of Chinese restaurants. My brother has a food finding instinct that is amazing. His ability to find fantastic food wherever he is can only be considered a special power worthy of a superhero. He stops in places that you look and consider the efficacy of a antacids and antibiotics to find the food delicious and the staff, friendly. He really appreciates good food.

We headed back to the estate house and I ate straight away. I then smoked and said hello to the dogs and donkeys. The donkeys always make their way towards me. I don't know why they're so fond of me, I don't feed them. I just lavish them with lots of affection. Perhaps, donkeys need love too? We then crashed for an hour. Getting up at stupid o'clock had taken it's toll.

My brother, after a cup of coffee, put on his overalls and went out to see to the estate. I grabbed a beer, swung in the hammock and listened to the parrots quarrelling in the trees. Late afternoon, they fly back to their homes in twos and threes squawking as they go, a parrot is by no means a quiet bird. I can't tell you the feeling of bliss, contentment even.

Promptly broken by my brother demanding I go with him into The Bush. So I did. He'd collected tiny teak seedlings in their little black bags, ready to be planted out in the field. He asked me to put them out on some newspaper and fluff them up, as they'd been squashed in the two buckets. I then had the joy of explaining to my prim and proper brother what a 'fluffer' was. I'm happy to say that the seedlings were fully erect when I'd finished! :-)

We packed up and headed off to the beach. I'd been looking forward to the swim for hours and hours. Bliss. Real bliss. The water was fantastic, the beer cold, the company excellent. I had a fantastic day. The kind of day that lives on. I realised after I started blogging, that yesterday we made a circuit round the island, we headed south to San Fernando, east to Mayaro, and then north and west to get home again. No wonder my brother is knackered today.

Comments

  1. "donkeys need love too?"

    Certainly! It's wonderful that you and the donkeys have found one another.

    ReplyDelete
  2. xl ~ it's the start of a beautiful romance. Unfortunately, they're both female and four-footed, but hey, beggars can't be choosers.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Well obviously apart from the sun, sea, donkeys, food, hammocks and SUN there's no reason to be for me to be jealous.
    ..None.

    ReplyDelete
  4. macy ~ you made me laugh. Thank you my dear.

    Had you not had your experience of grief and death earlier this year, I'd invite you down. But frankly, I think you've probably had quite enough of that.

    Instead, we'll just have to arrange to come out another time.

    ReplyDelete
  5. 63mago (not allowed in by blogger)11:57 pm

    Hope the gouvernment man is satisfied and there are no troubles to be expected. Just saying.

    ReplyDelete
  6. mago ~ we'll see whether the Government Man can do what he says he'd like to do. Bureaucracy down here...it's like a large onion. Lots of layers, makes your eyes water as you try to unwrap it.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Be assured Roses, this is not a tropical problem.

    ReplyDelete
  8. mago ~ ain't that the truth!

    ReplyDelete
  9. [off topic]

    Ordered Jamaican Jerk Ribs for lunch today. Does Trinidad (or Tobago, obv.) have any similar spicy dishes?

    ReplyDelete
  10. xl ~ we have all kinds of spicy stuff. Trini cooking involves a lot of garlic, ginger and peppers. Not enough space to discuss here. But when you have the right person cooking...om nom nom.

    ReplyDelete

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