Personal Impressions, Thoughts & Feelings, from the Isla
Posted: Sat Apr 12, 2003 7:10 pm
Journal Entries while staying in Tobago:
March 31st, ‘03 ~~ Charlotteville, Tobago ~~
Sitting on the balcony of Moore’s Guest House, overlooking the rooftops of the village, nestled into the bowl-shaped mountains, surrounding the circular bay.
Evening has come, this holiday monday ... the national holiday of the Spiritual Baptists. Most of the country has closed it’s stores and businesses for the long weekend. People are relaxing, no fishing today, just ‘liming’ with freinds and family, strolling through the village streets, and playing at the beaches. More than half the village attended the foot ball game mid-afternoon, watching, playing, or cheering.
As the game ended at sunset, the crowds dispersed into the streets, to walk about, sit on the curbs or porches, chat and socialize in briskly paced Patois. There’s a couple hundred men, women, and children, just strolling. They’re moving slowly through the narrow streets, along the beachfront, down Bay Street, and on the pier, with dozens of ‘men-only’, sitting in the 3 or 4 beer halls, drinking “spirituos liquors”, posturing, roostering, and gesturing loudly to one another. To a Canadian like me, it seems chaotic, incomprehensible, almost as if they were shouting obscenities to one another, but on close inspection, it’s just the tone of the language that’s alien to me. They are actually all having a lot of fun.
Charlotteville and Castara. They are both, first and foremost, a Fishing Village. Here there are dozens of dories moored in the harbour, and a couple of seines, stored on poles by the beach, in the shade of the almond trees, waiting for tommorrow’s high tide in the morning for the daily quest of Jacks, Silverfish, and Kingfish. Truly a fishing village, but with one tentative foot stepping into the 21st century, reluctantly for some, awkwardly for many. Yet, a few forward-thinking villagers have accepted the coming of tourism as the next economic wave, and are wishing to build guest houses, like having a money-tree in their back yard. Some are brilliantly adapting, and becoming adept at the tourist business, all the while retaining a special respect for, and wisdom of, their Tobago Island Heritage.
April 8th, ‘03 ~~ Castara ~~
My greatest impressions to take home to Killaloe, Ontario, are of my sense of the social life of the village people. The sense of community among the village members appears to be strong. I feel that villagers co-operate with one another in a self-initiated way. Without waiting for decisions from town council, (they don’t have one), the beach gets raked and litter picked up, occasionally. The fisherman’s co-op gets cleaned, and sinks and showers are scrubbed. It appears that the facilities are shared at random, by all the fishermen, and by families and
businesses who rely on the day’s catch for their evening’s cooking.
The sense of community seems strong enough to overcome the differences and diversity of politics and religious groups. On one hand, there’s the Rastafarians, and the Seventh Day Adventists on the other, with Spiritual Baptists, Methodists, and other Christian groups all mixed together in a very small village setting.
How does this extreme mix manage to co-exist? At Castara, they somehow appear to work together well, united by occupation, fishing, and the sharing of the co-op building. And what of the Castara women? I saw too few on the beach, with their children. What social role is there for them? What gender biases lie somewhat hiddenfrom the tourists like me?
I love to cook, and learning to conjure up some meals using what ever is available here in the village has been an interesting challenge and learning experience. We ate Bonita steaks a couple days, bought from Wayne’s crew, the one with the red bottomed boat who seemed to stay out later, and bring home more, than most other fishermen. Somehow, everyone from the village seemed to know when to show up with their plastic bags to buy their fish, with their preferences for either Bonita, Dolfinfish, or Kingfish.
Pulling seine seemed to involve different individuals and different crews each day. Each combination of crew seemed to have a different person in charge, or maybe I should say that everyone was in charge. The catch each day varied immensely, from huge quantities of Jacks, to include small Squid, Round Robins, Anchovies, Yellow Fin, and Kingfish.
But my absolute favorite was the delectably sweet, pan-sized Silver Fish. Mary Anne, from the Naturalist Beach House, showed me her way of cleaning these fish and the Jacks, too. And we marinated them in a mixture of Green Thyme & Chives Sauce, fresh Lime juice, a boulion cube, and some salt. And chili peppers, habenaro, added some zing to the cooking.
We cooked a lot of rice and pigeon peas to go with our daily fish, and added what ever vegetables were available at the market in the centre of town. We’d cook the rice with the chopped vegetables to form a kind of Pelau, with onions, garlic, ginger root, green peppers, christophine, and green beans. I’d always cook up more than enough, and we’d save the leftovers to form our next day’s picnic lunch.
That kind of ‘self catering’ left us prepared for each next day with out having to spend too much money at the few restaurants. Our savings left us with enough money to rent a car for a week, and do day tours, with our picnic lunch, to a different exploration point each day. After two weeks of Tobago, we had spent time at all the leeward bays and beaches, from Castara, Englishmen’s Bay, Parletuvier, Hermitage, Cambleton Beach, Charlotteville Bay, and Pirate’s Bay.
This was a delayed honeymoon experience for Cheryl and myself. It's been grand and glorious! We've managed to get away from the pressures of the work-a-day world in Canada, and the constant challenges of parenting.
The relaxed pace of being a tourist in Tobago allowed us to spend communicative time with one another, re-affirm our love for each other, and share much intimacy.
At the moment, I don’t know how we’d finance it, but a return trip to Tobago sure seems like a plan.
[/i]
March 31st, ‘03 ~~ Charlotteville, Tobago ~~
Sitting on the balcony of Moore’s Guest House, overlooking the rooftops of the village, nestled into the bowl-shaped mountains, surrounding the circular bay.
Evening has come, this holiday monday ... the national holiday of the Spiritual Baptists. Most of the country has closed it’s stores and businesses for the long weekend. People are relaxing, no fishing today, just ‘liming’ with freinds and family, strolling through the village streets, and playing at the beaches. More than half the village attended the foot ball game mid-afternoon, watching, playing, or cheering.
As the game ended at sunset, the crowds dispersed into the streets, to walk about, sit on the curbs or porches, chat and socialize in briskly paced Patois. There’s a couple hundred men, women, and children, just strolling. They’re moving slowly through the narrow streets, along the beachfront, down Bay Street, and on the pier, with dozens of ‘men-only’, sitting in the 3 or 4 beer halls, drinking “spirituos liquors”, posturing, roostering, and gesturing loudly to one another. To a Canadian like me, it seems chaotic, incomprehensible, almost as if they were shouting obscenities to one another, but on close inspection, it’s just the tone of the language that’s alien to me. They are actually all having a lot of fun.
Charlotteville and Castara. They are both, first and foremost, a Fishing Village. Here there are dozens of dories moored in the harbour, and a couple of seines, stored on poles by the beach, in the shade of the almond trees, waiting for tommorrow’s high tide in the morning for the daily quest of Jacks, Silverfish, and Kingfish. Truly a fishing village, but with one tentative foot stepping into the 21st century, reluctantly for some, awkwardly for many. Yet, a few forward-thinking villagers have accepted the coming of tourism as the next economic wave, and are wishing to build guest houses, like having a money-tree in their back yard. Some are brilliantly adapting, and becoming adept at the tourist business, all the while retaining a special respect for, and wisdom of, their Tobago Island Heritage.
April 8th, ‘03 ~~ Castara ~~
My greatest impressions to take home to Killaloe, Ontario, are of my sense of the social life of the village people. The sense of community among the village members appears to be strong. I feel that villagers co-operate with one another in a self-initiated way. Without waiting for decisions from town council, (they don’t have one), the beach gets raked and litter picked up, occasionally. The fisherman’s co-op gets cleaned, and sinks and showers are scrubbed. It appears that the facilities are shared at random, by all the fishermen, and by families and
businesses who rely on the day’s catch for their evening’s cooking.
The sense of community seems strong enough to overcome the differences and diversity of politics and religious groups. On one hand, there’s the Rastafarians, and the Seventh Day Adventists on the other, with Spiritual Baptists, Methodists, and other Christian groups all mixed together in a very small village setting.
How does this extreme mix manage to co-exist? At Castara, they somehow appear to work together well, united by occupation, fishing, and the sharing of the co-op building. And what of the Castara women? I saw too few on the beach, with their children. What social role is there for them? What gender biases lie somewhat hiddenfrom the tourists like me?
I love to cook, and learning to conjure up some meals using what ever is available here in the village has been an interesting challenge and learning experience. We ate Bonita steaks a couple days, bought from Wayne’s crew, the one with the red bottomed boat who seemed to stay out later, and bring home more, than most other fishermen. Somehow, everyone from the village seemed to know when to show up with their plastic bags to buy their fish, with their preferences for either Bonita, Dolfinfish, or Kingfish.
Pulling seine seemed to involve different individuals and different crews each day. Each combination of crew seemed to have a different person in charge, or maybe I should say that everyone was in charge. The catch each day varied immensely, from huge quantities of Jacks, to include small Squid, Round Robins, Anchovies, Yellow Fin, and Kingfish.
But my absolute favorite was the delectably sweet, pan-sized Silver Fish. Mary Anne, from the Naturalist Beach House, showed me her way of cleaning these fish and the Jacks, too. And we marinated them in a mixture of Green Thyme & Chives Sauce, fresh Lime juice, a boulion cube, and some salt. And chili peppers, habenaro, added some zing to the cooking.
We cooked a lot of rice and pigeon peas to go with our daily fish, and added what ever vegetables were available at the market in the centre of town. We’d cook the rice with the chopped vegetables to form a kind of Pelau, with onions, garlic, ginger root, green peppers, christophine, and green beans. I’d always cook up more than enough, and we’d save the leftovers to form our next day’s picnic lunch.
That kind of ‘self catering’ left us prepared for each next day with out having to spend too much money at the few restaurants. Our savings left us with enough money to rent a car for a week, and do day tours, with our picnic lunch, to a different exploration point each day. After two weeks of Tobago, we had spent time at all the leeward bays and beaches, from Castara, Englishmen’s Bay, Parletuvier, Hermitage, Cambleton Beach, Charlotteville Bay, and Pirate’s Bay.
This was a delayed honeymoon experience for Cheryl and myself. It's been grand and glorious! We've managed to get away from the pressures of the work-a-day world in Canada, and the constant challenges of parenting.
The relaxed pace of being a tourist in Tobago allowed us to spend communicative time with one another, re-affirm our love for each other, and share much intimacy.
At the moment, I don’t know how we’d finance it, but a return trip to Tobago sure seems like a plan.
[/i]
