I must refrain from visiting the My Tobago website every day
I must refrain..."
Oh hello, didn't see you there! I was just trying some self hypnosis as recommended by my therapist. 'Snot working. Better ask for my money back.
So, here I am home alone, trying to warm up after a walk to the shops in the pouring rain, and listening to the radio where they announced there's been a tornado in the Midlands. Hang on a minute- they're playing Status Quo. Where's my air guitar? I always wanted to be Suzie Quatro you know. Trouble is, she's little and blonde, and I'm......not.
Castara.
We arrived, hot ,tired and somewhat stunned, looking for the steps called Jackson's Trace. I jumped out of the car and asked the kindly looking lady in the nearest shop for directions." It's there" she said, pointing to a sign about 10 yards away. Do you know, many years ago BC ( Before Children) we spent Christmas in a remote cottage in Somerset. Arriving after dark, we couldn't find the darn place, so we spent a freezing night sleeping in the car. Dawn broke, and behold, there was the lane we were looking for right under our noses.
Back to Castara.
It is tiny, green , lush and pretty. One of the first things you see on heading towards Big Bay is a sign for Nature Boys Tours, which I read as "Mature Boys Toys", and will remember it as such for always.
We felt rather self concious at first when we were stared at wherever we went, ( strangers in town!) but got used to it, or the locals got used to us!
Personally, I blame my 6 foot 3 husband in his "Our Man in Havana" hat.
After a day or two, there's no doubt we all felt comfortable in Castara.
On one occasion, for some reason the two men had gone ahead, and myself and daughter were a little behind, when a lorry load of young lads went by. (We often saw lorries, or trucks, crammed with people in the back. No 'elf n safety here!)
"Hello," they said shyly. "What polite young men," I thought, saying "hello" back. Silly old woman! it was daughter they were talking to not me!
That's what I noticed about Castara, and other places too. OK so daughter always had her parents or Big Brother with her (talk about cramp your style!) but I never saw any leering, or heard any inappropriate comments towards daughter, just appreciative glances. The same cannot be said about where we live, where I have often given my best motherly glare at men, young and old, who have ogled her a little too much.
Another thing about Castara; although it's impossible to be inconspicuous, we were never pestered by any one. I was approached by a man offering to teach us the steel pan( I believe he may be a well known character?) but as I was on my own at that time, having given the family the slip, he said he would wait until we were all together, and we ended up discussing the Iraq war and the state of the world in general. Sadly, we didn't see him again until we were about to head for the airport on our last day.
There was another time when we were waiting to buy coconut tarts from the ladies at the clay oven when I was approached ( why is it always me?) by a Rasta (no not HIM Gisela, that's a different story) called Gerry
who offered to organise a trip through the rainforest on donkeys. .DONKEYS!!!!!!
No thanks
I haven't been on a donkey since I was five.And that was it, no pestering at all. Not like a holiday we had in Tunisia, also BC, when we were driven CRAZY by rather intimidating individuals trying to sell us things and take us on tours. And when my husband went to the Phillipines on business he couldn't step out of his hotel in Manilla without being pestered by nasty little men trying to entice him into - well you can guess.
So here we must leave Castara, for now. Remind me to dig into my diary again. Ah! The chachalacas or cocricos; calling to each other at 6 am, bless 'em!
Signing off, need lunch
Your ever faithful
Carol
