I
t’s often overlooked among other Caribbean destinations. After all,
Trinidad—the larger of the two islands that constitute the nation
Trinidad and Tobago—is the most southern of all Caribbean islands
and only 7 miles from Venezuela. Its climate is as much South American
as Caribbean.
But what makes Trinidad an outlier among Caribbean islands also
makes it a delightful place to visit. Trinidad is a rare vacation destination
that is not tourist-driven. It is rich in diversity, more a melting-pot than
even the U.S., and it has an abundance of natural attractions. Oddly,
flights to this island often cost less than flights to islands much closer to
the United States. Trinidad is an intriguing location for those seeking a
beach … but something more as well.
Here are some of my favorite scenes from a recent trip to Trinidad.
SCENE ONE: THE PANYARD
(WITH A SIDE OF DOUBLES)
I’m walking along a side street in downtown Port of Spain, the capital
of Trinidad. Storefronts and cement walls line narrow sidewalks, so it is
hard to see what is ahead. But I’m drawn toward the music that echoes
across the pavement. The sounds are the compelling beat of a steel pan
band gathering in the outdoor rehearsal and performance space known as
a panyard. Usually a cemented-over vacant lot and often partially covered
by a high tin open-air roof, panyards are scattered across Trinidad and
gather in the hundred-plus street bands and orchestras.
As I approach, the music grows louder and more insistent and seems to
urge me to pick up my pace. I turn a corner and suddenly find myself in the
panyard. It contains at least 75 people playing various instruments: single
pans, double pans, groupings of bass drums and some instruments that I do
not even recognize. Their repertoire is varied and complex: Beethoven to the
Beatles, a bit of calypso and some jazz. There is no written music. No one
follows a score. It is all in the musicians’ heads, the result of hundreds of
hours of practice and open-air jam sessions. The musicians are all standing.
They move their bodies as well as their hands with the music. Within
minutes, I’m swaying with them.
When the musicians take a break, I walk to the corner rum shop
for an icy-cold Carib and grab a “doubles” from a street vendor. In a few
short days, I’ve developed an affinity for doubles, an Indo-Trinidadian
vegan street food of spicy curried chickpeas stuffed between two baras
(puffy fried rolls). They are both breakfast staples and favorite late-night
snacks. Wrapped in paper and dripping deliciousness, doubles are eaten
by hand. They are the reason I carry Handi-Wipes in my purse at all times
on Trinidad.
“Ah doubles no pepper,” I say, then dare to ask, “extra chutney?” It’s the
fresh chutneys that give doubles their zing. At least I think so. It is hard to
separate out the tastes and origins in doubles, as it is with much of Trinidad
and Tobago, a nation whose people trace their ancestry to India, Africa, France,
Spain, China and other parts of the world.
Refreshed, I return to the panyard, where the music feels as if it will
go on forever.
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