Travel and Photography

The Humble Beginnings of My Two-Year Expat Life in Trinidad, in Monochrome

And leaving the country I still love

Toward the tail end of 2019, or perhaps just a hair into 2020, my husband Andy first proposed the idea of heading to the majestic country of Trinidad and Tobago — not to visit, but to live. Hadn’t ever considered such a thing — this living in another country thing, that is. Though travel has always been one of my most beloved pursuits, I’ve always been quick to maintain that I never wanted to live anywhere else but my venerated home country.

However, the U.S., as many of us have always known it to be, has been rapidly changing in significant and rather agonizing ways.

What ever happened to the staple American Dream we’d always been promised and had expected to live?

Far from working hard to achieve a respectable middle-class life, many Americans these days seem to be working themselves to the bone just to keep their nostrils sticking out of the water. The mom-and-pop small businesses of another era are being replaced by the hollowed-out feeling of climbing the bottom few rungs of the corporate ladder. This doesn’t even scratch the surface when it comes to wacko bipartisan politics, mass shootings, continued racism and the “Fleecing of America”.

Both my husband and I had found ourselves hopelessly trapped in this endless cycle while living in otherwise beautiful Orlando, FL — working, working, working and seeming to get nowhere—tragically, just like so many of My Fellow Americans.

Far from intending this to be one more story of deplorable America-bashing though, in truth, I cry for my country and hope we are able to collectively find more effective solutions to the problems we face going forward.

For the first time in my life though, I seriously considered giving the expat life a go. Perhaps taking a little break and seeing how other people manage to survive out in the rest of the world, was just what I needed. Broaden my horizons a bit. Immerse myself deeply into another culture and way of life. Sounded great. Sounded refreshing. Sounded soul-rehabilitating.

Really though, the decision ultimately came down to the allure of a free house.

Free house, you say?

Yes. A free house.

I’d heard rumors of it for a while. My husband, who was born in Trinidad but grew up in Brooklyn, NY, had been pretty allusive about it. When I first met him, he had the rugged exterior of a raw chunk of granite. And just like a sculpture, I’d been chipping away at the bristled stone for years. Trust didn’t come easy for him, even after we’d been together for several years. Luckily, I knew just where he was coming from — to a lesser extent, I have often been the same way.

So, I cut him some slack and remained patient. Just a little understanding can go a long way, right?

First time I gave him a big hug he acted like he’d been stung by a feather he’d accidently confused for a bumblebee — but he also seemed to like it. Little did I know I was creating a monster there. A hug monster that is. Is it really such a bad thing, after all? Feeling smothered much?

Be careful what you create, mad scientists of the world! Ha ha!

Finally, though, I managed to pry the full details out of him when it came to that free house, and when I did, I remember saying something like: “you mean your mother left you a perfectly good house in Trinidad in her will? And we’ve been slaving away here in America because?”

I about beat the man, I tell ya. He’s really too big for me to do much damage though, at 6'4 and built like a prizefighter…. or like the terminator…

After coming down from my initial ire and shock, we talked openly about it for a while and finally decided to give it a go. But then, wouldn’t you know it, all hell broke loose. Mass amounts of fuckry ensued because, lucky us, that’s just the time COVID came around in March of 2020 and hit us all like a bulldozer. I mean, isn’t that really what it was? A real freaking bulldozer.

Soon after, Trinidad and Tobago shut its borders up tight, tight, tight. No one was getting in or out.

And so, another painfully long year and several months of slugging through the mud went by. We both lost our beloved pre-COVID jobs (which I shed many a tear over, let me tell ya!) and were forced to work complete shit jobs. Life just seemed to get worse and worse, and all the while I was dreaming in my head of the sparkling blue of the Caribbean Sea, swaying coconut palms and that rent-free house just sitting down there waiting for us. An ease-up of all the hard work and tension. Sounded so enticing.

These lovely smiling PR photos I posed for on behalf of my boss are completely b.s.

And yes, I did let hubby feel guilty on a few occasions by saying such barbarous stuff as: “if you had only mentioned this house business earlier, we wouldn’t be stuck here in this mess. We’d be stuck in a rent-free house.”

All is fair in love and war. Ok, maybe I was a little mean about it, but in my defense, wasn’t COVID just a nightmare — one serving to drive us all a bit nutty?

Luckily, all that is a distant memory now. We faithfully listened to Loop News and other sources of Trinidad information and finally, in June of 2021, it was announced that the borders would reopen in July.

Yes! Queue ‘celebrate good times’ by Kool and the Gang here. It felt like Christmas, New Year’s, Easter and the Fourth of July had come all at once.

However, since the house would need a bit of work before we could move in, my husband decided to go earlier than me. Lamenting the unfairness of it, I spent another month or so in Orlando twiddling my thumbs with hopeless anticipation while cursing, cursing and cursing my post-COVID job — even though, in hindsight, I thank God every day for that crappy job getting me through that dreadfully awful period.

And I thank God every day for a free house to come along, even though we had to wait a while to get there, and even though it just happened to be in a completely different country I knew absolutely nothing about.

I still remember the glorious anticipation I felt as I booked my ticket from Orlando to Piarco International Airport. Trinidad-based Caribbean Airlines, at that time, was the only carrier flying into Trinidad, since the borders had just opened. The only great thing about traveling at that time is there were few other people doing so, so it was quite nice. It was Labor Day when I flew out, but I breezed through the airport and onto the plane with ease.

In my journal, I wrote down the name of the pilot: Stephen Fontinelle. He had the most charming Caribbean accent I’d ever heard before. I discovered later that he hailed from the island of Saint Lucia.

Looking out of the airplane window during that trip and down at the beautiful blue of the Caribbean Sea as we flew over was mesmerizing. I spotted so many different islands as we went.

Oh, that must be The Bahamas there.

Hmm, I wonder if that’s Puerto Rico?

And just look at that tiny uninhabited island — I wonder if it has a name?

A neat bit of trivia is that the Caribbean Sea has over 7,000 islands, yet only around a hundred or so are inhabited. (source)

On later trips I’ve gotten photos, like the ones above, but on that trip I was far too busy with being completely mesmerized and with jotting down my thoughts and feelings.

Enticing tidbits from my journal:

It is Labor Day today, but when I land it will no longer be. Not because the day is over, but because I will be in a completely different country.

Miles and miles of glassy rippled water and when I look off into the horizon the clouds look like a snowy mountain range.

Lunch is served. It’s chicken n’ cheese on a hot dog bun. Not as bad as it sounds. Still better than the crappy cookies they give out on most American carrier flights.

The Caribbean Sea is dotted with many deserted islands, where one could act out their own version of Castaway. I do wonder though, if the movie was recast with a female lead, what she would do about maxi pads?

Funny the odd thoughts that come into the head inflight. I love it!

And as we grew closer to Trinidad and the glorious Caribbean sun was falling below the horizon, I wrote:

The sun and sky appear afire with majestic colors of blue, orange, yellow, red and purple— the hazy color of dreams.

By the time we drew close to the island of Trinidad, the sky had darkened, and the outline of the shore and the Northern Range of mountains could just be seen, along with the glare and signs of life of the cities and towns below. I knew nothing about them as yet, but I was breathless with anticipation to see it all.

And then seeing the runway lights and the airport come into sight — well now, isn’t it just a splendorous feeling? I never tire of it, and this is why I will always love travel — that euphoric feeling of what comes next is, for me, better than any drug known to man.

Upon landing, there was the initial rush of excitement, and then the letdown. Because of COVID, I stood in line for something like two hours just so that I could get my vaccine card, COVID test and TT travel pass checked. What a pain. So glad those days are over.

Then, of course, I had to stand in line for another hour or two just to get through immigration. By the time I got out to my impatient and anxiety-ridden husband, it was the next day already.

All still an extremely small price to pay to experience the amazing wonders of this island. Trinidad, above all, is a true mix of diversity and culture. In the two years since, I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing what it’s like to live in a true devout Hindu household (while our own house was getting ready) and attending an Anglican funeral.

(Loved my step-mother-in-law’s house, by the way. Full of Hindu gods and other trinkets from her life and travels, as well as Indian spices and food. I even loved the silly Indian soap operas she watched).

I’ve experience the wonderous and beautiful beaches of Trinidad (when they finally opened up after COVID), celebrated Divali and have had the chance to experience more of what this island has to offer. I’ve done all the more mundane things as well that we tend to take for granted — shopped for groceries, taken walks around the neighborhood and planted stuff in the yard.

And all the while I’ve made many trips back and forth to America, and I still dream of a better state of living for my friends and family back home. What will it ultimately take to change things for the better, when all it seems is that everything just to be getting worse every day?

Want to challenge yourself by only posting photos in monochrome or “gray”? Check out these other great articles for inspiration:

Darren Weir offers his enchanting experiences and monochrome photos from his trip to Quebec City:

Also loved this story from Adrienne Beaumont about a rainy day during her European travels: