I first came to Trinidad on my honeymoon many years ago. My husband who was brought up there, told me that this was a magical island where flowers bloomed at night, birds spoke French and oysters grew on trees.
He also told me that I would be serenaded by a cacophony of birdsong each morning, be lulled to sleep by the cicadas and party like nowhere else, drinking the best rum punch and eating the greatest street food in the world. And I did.
I’ve since been back at least 20 times, most recently in January — which makes me a rarity. Despite being the largest and most densely populated island in the Eastern Caribbean, it remains one of the least visited.
Just nine miles off the coast of Venezuela, it is the southernmost island in the string of islands that stretch across the Caribbean Sea. Rich in oil and gas, it is better known for its carnival and music than its beaches, but it’s also a haven for wildlife — not to mention all that tempting food, influenced by the different cultures which have left their mark on Trinidad.
Before Christopher Columbus came upon the island in 1492, the indigenous Amerindian tribes moved between the mainland of what is now Latin America and the islands by canoe. That strategic position meant the colonial powers squabbled to possess it, with one European country after another claiming Trinidad as its own: the French, the Spanish and the British.
Sugar and cocoa production led to slaves being imported from Africa followed by indentured workers from India. At different points substantial numbers of Portuguese, Chinese, Syrian and Lebanese arrived. All of the cultures today are represented in a population of just over one million.
We would eat doubles for breakfast at the side of the road: a unique Trinidadian snack of spicy curried chickpeas sandwiched between two floppy pancakes called bara. They can be messy to eat but are delicious.
A drive down south to Debe would provide a lunch of vegetable fritters such as saheena, pholourie and samosa. Later, once the sun had set, we would head back to St James in the island capital Port of Spain to eat roti (an Indian dhal puri stuffed with a variety of curries), drink rum and coconut water and some “liming” with friends.
Liming as I soon discovered, could be a noun, verb and adjective, far more than simply relaxing as a group, that encompasses the joie de vivre of Trinidadians.
I would also learn to “wine”, dancing by rotating the hips and waist in a winding movement, to the rhythmic beat of soca and the sound of calypso with its underlying political commentary.
Music is at the heart of Carnival on Trinidad and sister island Tobago, calling itself the biggest street party on earth. The Savannah, the largest open space in central Port of Spain, hosts the flamboyant Calypso parade, as well as the steel band competition Panorama.
Once, racehorses would be exercised around the perimeter: now they’ve been replaced by runners but there’s still plenty of wildlife to be found outside the capital, with surprisingly diverse flora and fauna across Trinidad.
The list of species found here is impressive — 108 mammals, 430 birds, 55 reptiles, 25 amphibians, 620 butterflies and nearly 2,300 flowering plants. No other area in the West Indies can match this diversity.
For a taste of the natural riches, there’s no better place to visit than Asa Wright Nature Centre, set in a valley of the Northern Range hills.
This former cocoa and coffee plantation is now an 80-hectare nature reserve, established in 1967 as a non-profitmaking, charitable conservation and study area. One of the world’s top birdwatching spots, it’s home to more than 100 different bird species, including a colony of the elusive nocturnal oilbird.
Sitting on the viewing gallery of the great house at its heart, a dazzling display of wildlife unfolds: brilliantly plumed, thumb-sized hummingbirds hover in front of us as they drink from the eye-level feeders.
Below us, silver-beaked tanagers, yellow-legged purple honeycreepers, golden-headed manakins and the black and yellow bananaquits gorge themselves on fruit and bread that is regularly laid out on tables. Land crabs, agoutis and Tegu lizards clear up the scraps that fall onto the ground.
The agouti — like a cross between a rat, a guinea pig and a small deer with little paper-thin ears — is the only mammal you are likely to see during the day, apart from the occasional red squirrel; most mammals on Trinidad are nocturnal.
The surrounding trees are flecked with the bright plumes of roosting and nesting birds — channel-billed toucans, blue-crowned motmots, golden-olive woodpeckers, white tailed trogons, and the rather comical yellow-tailed crested oropendolas, or cornbirds, who are responsible for the metre-long pendulous nests that hang from the tall trees.
Guides take tours on the different trails twice a day too. As a result of their advice, I now know how to survive, albeit briefly, if I ever get lost in the rainforest, drinking the water from the liana creeper and using it to purify other brackish water as well as feeding myself on protein-rich termites in an emergency.
You can also take trips to the Caroni Swamp, where the scarlet ibis returns to roost, as well as the Pointe-a-Pierre Wildfowl Trust, or Grand Riviere in the north-east of the island, one of the best places to see giant leatherback turtles come ashore to lay their eggs.
The Nariva swamp is one of the richest wildlife reserves in Trinidad and the Northern Range is perfect for hiking, river-walking and mountain biking.
If you can tear yourself away from the tranquillity of the rainforest or countryside and want to try a totally different holiday experience, then visit Trinidad during carnival time when the human population competes with the natural splendour of the wildlife in its costumes.
No one can party like a Trinidadian, and people start preparing for this national party months in advance, until the climax of the Street Parade in Port of Spain, ending late on the evening of Shrove Tuesday.
The majority of the island’s population are Christian, followed by Hindu and Muslims. Jews settled here back in the 17th century, when a number of Jewish merchants came from Suriname. Just over a century later, after Trinidad had passed from Spanish control to British, the community had gone.
On most police stations and army buildings, you can still see a Star of David but there’s very little Jewish presence today. Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe passed through before the Second World War, establishing small synagogues and a Jewish cemetery.
Many were interned as spies, with most moving to the US, Canada and Israel after the war. A few stayed and made their mark but many intermarried with the Catholic population. Today only a few dozen Jews remain.
My love affair with this delicious melting pot of a country has only grown over the years, since that first honeymoon trip.
And the kiskadee birds still speak French (qu’est ce que tu dit?) the oysters still grow on the roots of the mangrove trees and the night blooming cereus still flowers at night. Pure magic.
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