Fourteen Hours to nowhere
Boston Airport to Crowne Point, Tobago
May 4, 2002: Honestly I don't know why we do this. Tobago, our wedding/honeymoon destination, is just off the coast of Venezuela, at the northern tip of South America. One thinks of Caribbean islands as a short hop from Miami. But to get here, we first flew to San Juan, Puerto Rico, then got on a turbo-prop for about three and a half hours to Port Of Spain, Trinidad. Scott was just short of ballistic when we started our descent; he can take just so much of coffin-sized seating. At least in a coffin, you get to lie down.
Once in Port of Spain, Trinidad. we got in the shortest line at "Tobago Express". It turns out that was just the ticketing line, fine as we needed to change our tickets anyway — but it also meant moving from that line to the check-in line. With just three people in front of us, it still took a net of 45 minutes to check it. "Fortunately", our flight — the last one of the day — was delayed another 90 minutes. A family of 5, peculiarly dressed, arrived with their five suitcases. Most of the cases were in fact larger than the passengers. Their luggage weighs 102Kg in total.
Peculiar? Nothing much fazes us anymore: women in abbayas, monks in saffron robes, even people in tatters. But how often do you encounter well-tanned Swedes (dark skin, very light hair) wearing red berets with "Canada" and the maple leaf, and Mickey Mouse t-shirts emblazoned with the American flag? Trinidad, apparently.
Finally
we arrive at Tobago's airport. It's on one end of the island, we'll
be staying at the other end — fortunately not until tomorrow. Kathy's
had the good sense to book us in a local, rather less expensive
place, a very modest walk from the airport. Smart girl, think I'll
marry her.
It's already 11:00pm (we left our house at 9:00am for this trip): we wake the Manager of "Jet Way Home Apartments". She comes out in her pajamas, welcomes us with all the exuberance one needs muster at this hour. We both apologize for waking her, and we bid each other good night.
The Jet Way Home Apartments are a far cry from sleeping on the floor of Akha Villages in Thailand: our room here has hordes of tiny, industrious ants, and lacks basic hotel "stuff": towels, matches for the stove (morning coffee), shampoo, blankets, even soap. But this don't seem to matter tonight. Just having indoor plumbing is a wonderful thing. Scott showers, uses the travel-day's shirt as a towel. Works nicely but the buttons are a little rough.
We sleep relatively late and start the day with a long embrace. The morning sky, clear blue with just a few wispy clouds, portends a beautiful day .