Monday, January 30, 2012

Down the the Banana Republics

The following blogs were translated from my journal as my technology failed and I had to use traditional pen and notebook.


“Until you got here, I was the only white guy in line” My father and I were in a vary cold Toronto airport, waiting to check into a Caribbean Airlines flight. Due to the oddness that is Expedia, we were on separate flights, but eventually wound our way to the Windward West Indies with a brief stop in Trinidad. The people there were mostly a color and mix I had not ever seen before and were exotically intriguing. I knew I was in a developing country as the first thing I saw in the Trinidad customs line was “whitening cream,” which was repulsively popular in the Arab Gulf states I travelled in. (It makes ones skin allegedly look lighter, but ends up looking like a sad paste.) There was also a large amount of Nescafe for sale.

My gear has been holding up well. In Chicago and Toronto I could have quickly made the earlier flights due to only using a carry on.

As the sun came up over Port of Spain I walked outside of the airport, into a tiki bar and traffic, on the other side of the road.

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