Category Archives: Trinidad Tales

Living the Trini life

Five K… FINALLY!!

I ran my first post-baby 5K on Sunday! It was about time, right?

(Pardon our mosquito bites–it’s rainy season and she’s as sweet to mosquitoes, netting or not, as she is to me).

(Also, pardon my sweaty red face).

I had the Fight the Fat 5K (yeah, that’s the race’s actual name, I swear) on my mind for weeks, but I was approaching it very loosely, with “training” for it consisting of running 3.1 miles comfortably a couple of times before the event. I was also holding myself to being OK with (A) the race not happening for whatever reason (and trust me, getting out the door to make it on time for ANYTHING these days is a real hassle and would, on bad days, count as a reason not to do stuff), and (B) not holding myself to running it particularly fast or with any goal in mind. In other words, I had to keep expectations of ANY kind low. Really, really, really low.

The race was on Sunday at 4:30 p.m, with registration on Sunday until 4 p.m. Because I knew I’d be stressing about what needed to be packed and ready for the baby (oh yeah, and also for me), I made a list of what needed to be packed (baby milk, bottles, toys, more toys, dry top for me, extra sports top in case she spit up on me, diapers for an army of pooping babies, snacks, etc).

I had it all packed by Sunday at 11 a.m.

By 2 p.m., I had continued to add what I can only term “unnecessary shit” into both our bags, doubling the size of both bags.

By 2:30 p.m., I had unpacked said unnecessary shit and told myself to calm the $@%* down, reminding myself that it was not my responsibility to diaper an army of pooping babies or provide Band-Aids for all race participants, and that only two outfit changes for her and three Band-Aids for me actually needed to be packed.

By 3 p.m., she was fed up to her sizable cheeks, I was dressed to run, the massive rainstorm was over (did I mention it started hammering down rain at 2:00 p.m.?) and we were on our way.

I was stressed about registering on the day. I was stressed about feeding her right before I ran so she didn’t go all Jekyll-and-Hyde on her father. I was stressed about remembering to pee somewhere in between all of that. The only thing that wasn’t stressing me–because it was the only thing I WASN’T thinking about–was the actual run.

So let this post reflect what actually happened (lots of words for the prep, much less for the actual event) and I’ll tell you, the run was a breeze and SO MUCH FUN! We made it in plenty of time, I fed her in the car, and then I kissed my child (and husband, and friend) goodbye and got into the mess.

And by mess, I mean TOTAL mess: it was a free 5K sponsored by the Ministry of Health as part of their Caribbean Wellness Day events, and therefore much less a race than a social event with free T-shirts at the end of it. There was a false start to the race (as has happened in half the Trini races I’ve done), there was a near-stampede because no one told runners to line up to the front and walkers to line up at the back, there were kids running away from their parents, there were people starting and stopping and turning around. There was even a scuffle right after the start line when one woman accused another of shoving her kids out of her way. I ran past before any punches got thrown, but sheesh, that one was a real race first.

The route was familiar–being the same Savannah route used for most races–and I ran it easy, walked when I got too hot or tired of weaving around people, and just took in the Savannah and the party vibes of the race, reminding myself whenever I thought I needed to speed up that, while running at 4:30 p.m. is not my favorite thing in the world to do, running around the Savannah may well be. I made a great fast (for me) dash in the last half mile or so, went through the finish line with a stupid grin, and got myself and my bling through the crush of people and back to my baby (and man, and friend) for much-appreciated celebratory burger and fries after.

And just like that, I ran my first post-baby 5K.

Bugz: The Ultimate Eco-Fuel

1 Reply

Looking for a great new fuel source for your workouts? Ready to break away from boring and expensive power bars and gels? Willing to give a truly eco-friendly energy snack a chance?

Well, my friends, look no further than bugs. Not just any bugs! We’re talking Bugz: The Ultimate Eco-Fuel.

Bugz are easy to ingest while on a run, saving you time and energy spent fiddling with a packet: you just open your mouth and in they go! It’s an effortless way to get fuel into you, with no annoying package to try and dispose of and no sticky fingers to deal with. In fact, Bugz are the number one fuel choice for lazy runners!

Hate the taste of sugary fuel gels? Not into chewing as you run? Does Gatorade make you want to barf? Bugz are the answer. They are made of 100% non-adulterated protein and are almost tasteless and completely odorless, with no gross sticky texture and ZERO aftertaste. Available in mosquito and gnat variety, there’s a size and kind of Bugz to fit your every fitness energy need!

And did you know that Bugz are cheap? Free, in fact—so you can use more of your hard-earned cash on fitness gear and recovery drinks! They’re also plentiful and available everywhere, so you don’t need to remember to pack your Bugz when you head off for a workout.

Bugz are also the ultimate in natural, organic protein. And if they’re good enough for spiders, Bugz are good enough for you.

Give in to the buzz and swat your inhibitions away! Try Bugz: the Ultimate Eco-Fuel.

_______________

(The fine print: Talk to your personal trainer and your doctor before using Bugz. Bugz may stick to sweat. Do not inhale Bugz. Shower vigorously after using Bugz. Some Bugz may cause dengue fever. If you experience nausea, vomiting, body aches, fever, or generalized itching, stop ingesting Bugz immediately and consult your doctor. Some users experience a feeling of general grossness with this product; this feeling may go away with continued use. Avoid kissing small children and significant others after ingesting bugs. You may not be able to use Bugz while wearing insect repellent. If you cannot afford Bugz, Tropical Wildlife and Weather Inc. may be able to help).

(This post was sponsored by Bugz.)

(This post was also brought to you by the buggiest run of my life: 2.1 miles of bug-ingesting speed. Was I faster because I didn’t want to eat the bugs (and therefore hustled hard to get out of the buggy outdoors), or because I actually ate Bugz? You be the judge of that.)

Trini Tales: The Sweetest Visitor

6 Replies

So my mom gave me the BIGGEST surprise when I talked to her an hour after having Miss Young Money–she told me she hoped I didn’t mind that she’d booked a flight to spend a week with me here in Trinidad. How could I possibly mind!! Had I known it would take me having a baby to get her to come and visit, I definitely would have done it a lot sooner.

It was, without a doubt, the sweetest visit ever. She came, she fed us, she showed me how to do the things I was a bit nervous about doing (thank you, Sole’s belly button, for waiting until your abuelita arrived to fall off and need dealing with). We spent hours kissing and coddling her precious little first granddaughter and sitting on the porch, doing nothing but taking it all in. We didn’t go out much, but we DID manage to bring my mom some key Trini foods to try (sada roti, roti, and doubles, with us eating doubles twice in the week per my mom’s request!) and we went for the baby’s first walks around the neighborhood (shirtless-baby-style, since she had to get some sun to counteract a touch of jaundice):

We chatted for hours during middle-of-the-night feedings–and most of the day as well. Oh, and she made me sleep sometimes too, which was definitely a good thing.

We also had our first outings with Miss Baby while she was here, because though my mom came to spend time at home with us and give us a hand, we just couldn’t let her leave without seeing the Savannah and eating at our favorite restaurant, Veni Mange. The Savannah walk was short and sweet (literally–we all shared pholourie and I learned about the myriad uses of baby wipes) and the dinner at Veni Mange was relaxed and wonderful, with Miss Young Money being passed around and held (mostly by my mom, who would have been happy to hold her in her arms the entire week) and behaving herself spectacularly well for a newborn, waking up to eat only when dessert arrived and earning herself the title of Veni Mange’s youngest-ever dinner guest.

(We also spent some quality time at the Embassy together, all four of us, while we sorted out Miss Baby’s birth certificate, and at the doctor’s office for my follow-up visit, but we won’t talk about those less-pleasant trips; needless to say, it was SO helpful to have her there).

I think what surprised me most, in my admittedly mushy and hormonal state, is the way that this baby has given us something so incredible to bond over. It’s kind of “duh” to say it, but so true, and I’m so grateful to this little string bean of a girlie for bringing us even closer than we were before (which I didn’t think possible). I couldn’t imagine that she would be able to come visit on such short notice, and now it’s hard to believe she ISN’T here all the time, living with us and being just as much a member of our house as we are.

So, as you can imagine, I am in total weepy mode about her leaving (still–and she left yesterday)–but I’m also stocked up on phone credits and Skype credits, and I’m counting down the days until we go home in two months’ time, when I’ll gladly hand her over to her proud grandmother for more cooing and fun times.

Plus, we may have extracted some promises of yearly visits from my mom, who STILL needs to taste bake and shark. I tell you, this baby is the BEST My-Mom Magnet yet…

Trini Tales: How To Get A Re-Entry Visa Without Tears

3 Replies

Last Friday, we went and got our re-entry visas renewed.

I can’t believe I wrote that in the past tense. As in, I went to get it done... and it got done.

So, here are my tips for getting re-entry visas (or any such Ministry-related business) sorted:

The night before

Make sure you have all the paperwork the website (or paper handed to you when you went to find out what you needed) set aside. Then set aside ANY other papers that look remotely important, or not even that important, that might relate to your time here in Trinidad over, oh, the past three and a half years. Because you’ll invariably be asked for something that wasn’t on the list.

A corollary on logic and paperwork. Don’t assume that, just because you have a piece of paper that you obtained by showing documents A, B, and C to a Ministry (even the same one), you won’t be asked to show them again. Having the paperwork that supersedes the requirement for A, B, and C is not going to stop anyone from wanting to see A, B, and C. Logic is not something that applies in these cases.

Pack a big bag. You know the kind of bag you pack when you’re flying, and have one or two layovers, and want to keep entertained and fed during the entire 16-hour ordeal? PACK BIGGER. You’ll want to include:

Snacks ( I took a bowl of oatmeal, two granola bars, an apple, a packet of crackers, a bottle of juice, a massive bottle of water, and money to buy lunch or snacks. A sandwich would not have been amiss, either).
Books (both something to get lost in and something for the short-attention span moments, when you’re too vexed to read an entire paragraph without looking up at the clock and steupsing).
Booklet of puzzles or crosswords (I’m still into sudokus). (Two. One for doing, one for when you’re done with that one).
A fan (it might be hot).
A sweater and a scarf (it also might be freezing).
A fully charged telephone (with enough minutes on it to send rant texts as needed).
Tissues (because it might be so frustrating that you end up bursting into angry tears–and you don’t want to have to sign in and out of the office to use the bathroom while copiously snotting).

Prepare mentally. As in, prepare for the worst–which would be spending an entire day in the office and still going home sans re-entry visa. It happens and it’s not worth the nervous breakdown.

The day of the visa renewal

Carefully plan for your arrival time. If they told you to arrive at 6 a.m. because that’s when the office opens, arrive an hour later. Honestly, the office DOESN’T open at 6 a.m. Duh.

Put on your game face. That means the outer game face (make up so you feel more awake, if you are into such things) and inner game face (like a serious athlete does, but with an awareness of institutional futility missing in most sports face-offs).

Dress comfortably. You’ll be sitting for a long time–a really, really long-ass time. You will get up and see the immigration officer various times, and you could lose your seat in the process. Wear something that you can sit on the floor in (and comfortable shoes for trekking from the office to the cashier’s office two buildings down and back, various times).

Caffeinate yourself. In case you need to be alert and dispute a point (or lose your cool in a coherent fashion).

Be ready to kowtow, smile sweetly, and hide any kind of attitude. Even when you know you’re right, technically and morally, you need to be able to can it and flatter the hell out of that officer.

Do not shriek “HELLS YEAH, M*****f*****z!!” in the office when you are done. Even if you expected to spend all day at the office and get through, by some divine intervention, in three hours, just don’t. It’s unbecoming to a lady (and they might think you’re relieved to have slid one past them, and then rebuke your visa). Wait until you get outside the building, and then hoot and holler to your heart’s content…. because you earned it.

Diwali: Bright Lights, Bright Dress

1 Reply

Diwali is really one of my favorite holidays. It’s odd to think that, until a few years ago, I had never celebrated it, but since then, I’ve been making up on lost time…

Like in 2006, when I borrowed a friend’s salwar kameez for the Indian Students Society Diwali do:

Or in 2007, when my girl D put together an amazing Diwali feast at her home, Malaysian-style:

I don’t remember what happened to 2008, but in 2009 I had my first real Trini Diwali, complete with deya-lighting and fireworks:

And last year, when Mr. Man was away for work and I was getting over the half-marathon sickathon, Umbi and I drove around looking at the lights and I got to play with my then-new camera:

As for this year? AMAZING–we went to two different parties, lit deyas, and had an amazing time, so much so that I actually got very few shots of people or lights. Sadly, I didn’t get to blow things up since fireworks are illegal (yet another charming effect of the current State of Emergency). Oh well, there’s always next year–the lights were still gorgeous and it was particularly awesome to shoot them this year with my new (from last Christmas) lens:

I also managed to pull together a total Project Runway day by finishing my dress in time for the first party! I had planned on wearing something else and hadn’t even thought of this dress-in-progress as a Diwali option because I had fairly low hopes for it; I loved the print, but I’d made a version of this pattern a few years ago and it was just not great. I made some adjustments when I cut it on Tuesday night (lowered V-neck, drafting a V for the back, and more gathering at the waist) and was really thrilled by how it looked when I tried it on (held together by pins!) at 2:30 pm on Wednesday afternoon… giving me a grand total of two hours to finish it before heading out the door.

Sure, it needs some adjustments here and there, and there may be strings hanging all over the place on the inside, but whatever–I think Tim Gunn would be proud that I “made it work”…. I think!

Next year’s Diwali: sparkles and fireworks. Guaranteed.

PS–there may or may not be a recipe for a Diwali treat coming your way next week…

Lady Bacchanal Returns… And Returns… And Returns Once More

3 Replies

First of all, THANK YOU so much for your kind words and congratulations about the baby! You all made me smile from ear to ear (and I think Young Money did a cartwheel or two out of happiness, too).

___________

So you might remember that we were dog-sitting for our neighbor’s psycho dog, Hope. She was more than a handful, quite a lil’ curfew-defiant dog, and despite the fact that the two humans of the household grudgingly like her (no such concessions made by our dog), she made those three and a half weeks feel like the longest three and a half weeks of our lives:

We gave her back on Sunday. We waved goodbye in the fragrant dusk and drove away, all the way back to our home two houses down from her, and delighted in the silence. Ever since then, we have reminisced about those crazy days when we had Hope in the house and laughed about all her exploits, including (but not limited to):

Messing with our dog until he fought her
Biting the burglarproofing when we put her outside
Howling for hours in the night, after she’d been put out for the night, if she so much as heard Mr. Man
Hurling herself at our glass doors repeatedly at random intervals each night
Fighting the dog that gets in our yard (which is the nemesis of both my dog and of Hope)
Escaping from a hole in the fence to fight said nemesis dog in the street (where we found them scrapping after returning from a bike ride one day)
Escaping from a freshly-made-by-Hope hole in the fence (yes, she chews up holes in our fence!) to follow us when we went for a run and bike ride
Escaping from the fence to follow us as we drove away
Competitively eating with my dog so that both dogs kept vomiting from eating their food too fast
Passing a stomach bug back and forth with my dog for a week
Taking over my couch and playing dead dog (all eighty pounds of her) for hours each day
Escaping into our neighbor’s yard and only returning after Mr. Man lured her by shaking a bag of crackers over the fence for half an hour

And who can forget last Saturday, when we were woken up by a ring of the doorbell at 7 a.m. to find Hope chained OUTSIDE our gate, with a bowl of water, having been caught by the neighbor after running up and down the street all night and ripping up all the garbages on our street (which Mr. Man then had to go and rake up for an hour)?

Oh, how happy we ALL were–Umbi especially–to give her back. If the neighbor had missed his flight, I would have paid for a cross-Atlantic charter to bring him back so he could take her back to where she belongs.

Oh, how naive we were.

This morning, at 7:20 am, as the birds were singing, the sun was shining, and I was delighting in being so nausea-free at the moment that I was heading to the shower BEFORE eating a pound of toast (BIG accomplishment!), Mr. Man called me to the porch, saying to hurry and see the animal that had gotten onto our porch.

IT. WAS. HER. All eighty pounds of psychotic, door-bashing, tail-thumping Lady Bacchanal.

Well, I found it hilarious, as it demonstrated my theory that she is madly in love with Mr. Man. He was also amused. The neighbor was called and he came to get her, relieved to find her after searching the neighborhood for hours this morning.

I showered, I set about making breakfast… and in she bounded again. The neighbor was called, he puzzled at how she could have gotten out after he roped the gate hole off, and away he took her.

At 8:20 am, we are finally sitting down to finish our Hope-interrupted breakfast and laughing it off when, as if by magic, with no warning, she materialized AGAIN, next to Chris, at which point she proceeded to leap up in a valiant waffle-stealing attempt (she missed). A moment later, the doorbell rang and the neighbor again took her away–to be chained to his son’s car until he came back with blocks, cement, and barbed wire, for lack of an electrical alarm and a nine-foot wall to keep the dog in.

This dog respects no curfew, no State of Emergency, no laws of the land. This dog eats metal fencing and bites filthy steel burglarproofing. Her love for my husband is so great, so overwhelming, so blinding that she will risk arrest and imprisonment in the Brian Lara Detention Center. She will get run over and fight dogs to get at my man.

I love her (from a distance, of course). As for my man, she can look… but she can’t touch.

This means WAR. And a trip to Bhagwansingh’s for some barbed wire, though heaven knows she’d probably chew through that, too.

Ah, Hope. Pure evil has never looked so innocent.

Trini Tales: A Lockdown Defiance Sunday

2 Replies

OK, OK. Of course I didn’t defy State of Emergency lockdown curfew laws and what have you. I’m not crazy, I don’t think a police holding cell is a particularly fun place to be on a Sunday night, and, the day I leave Trinidad, I certainly hope it won’t be on a forced consular plane out.

But Sunday afternoon, I kind of needed to defy the lockdown somehow. After one entire week of it–a week that would have definitely included a dinner out or two, a movie night out, and a night at a pub or two–I needed, SERIOUSLY needed out.

We headed up to the Savannah with our dog, who also needed a break from the unholy terror that is the dog-sittee Hope, armed with small bills for change, a bottle of water, and my camera. We walked all the way around. We stopped to look at stuff. We were stopped by fellow promenaders who wanted to pet the dog. We were zipped around by runners and little kids in bikes. We ate pholourie (fritters, with mango sauce, with pepper–the best ever) and got our fingers dirty and bought corn soup. I took one single, solitary picture–both because my fingers were so dirty and because I just couldn’t be bothered to break up the conversation and walk flow to take pictures I’ve probably taken so many times before.

We were there when it was dark. In a “hot spot.” With a few hundred other folks who felt the same about the Savannah on a Sunday.

So yes, the traffic majorly sucked on the way back home as the 7 PM exodus from Port of Spain started. And we saw some army cleanup crews–with HUGE guns, big scary guns, out well before curfew, which I seriously don’t understand–on the side of the highway as they cleared off the informal (and probably illegal) dumps along the side of the highway by Beetham Gardens and all those other “hot spots” where people have been getting hassled at night (not because it’s the state of emergency, but because they ALWAYS do). And I was pretty frightened to see that on a regular old Sunday.

But the Savannah on a Sunday just can’t be missed–especially now that so much of what’s great about life in Trinidad has been taken away. I’m still going back to the Savannah next Sunday… state of emergency, curfew, traffic, and all.

(Photos above from my Seen By The Savannah photoessay, taken last November for photography class–you can check out the entire series on my Picasa)