Transportation Diva - That's Me

Maxi taxis - not fun!

Trinidad has a chronic traffic problem. When my daily life was more heels than flip flops, aka, when I was employed and part of the corporate rat race, I would be forced to wake up at ungodly hours (3.30am!) to get ready to hit the highway and avoid the morning frustration known as bumper to bumper traffic. If you were to ask me what I valued most, after the requisite family and friends answer, it would have been my car. This can explain the reason the roads are just oversubscribed by private motorists cause I suspect many people feel the same way. Why? Public transportation sucks.

I am not a fan of public transportation. In London, it is better than many places but still, I leave early to avoid what I call the armpit crush of London, i.e. having to stand on a crammed train with someone's armpit against my face, or if I am lucky to have gotten a seat, having to sit with someone's ass against my face.

Public transportation on my little rock though - abysmal. For most of the mini-vacation, I have had use of a car to go on my adventures, but I have had the moments of madness where I had to brave the streets by hand, i.e. sticking my hand out to flag down a taxi or maxi.

Last Sunday, I decided to exercise my rights as a poor student and refuse to fork out the ghastly $345 fare from Piarco to home. Instead I chose to maxi/taxi it all the way home - a ride that involved 2 taxis and 2 maxis. First, it was the maxi ride from Arouca with the driver who probably never heard of Colgate, flossing or mouth wash and who clearly did not realise that his breath was so heinous that my Japanese titanium glasses frames almost melted everytime he opened his mouth. This dude kept talking and talking and my eyes kept watering. Then there was the taxi ride from Curepe to San Fernando where this swami looking character or as he called himself, a spiritual counsellor, decided he would pass out flyers promoting his services as a counsellor to the soul. Nothing wrong with that. What I did not appreciate was him putting his hand in my handbag as he tried to push this flyer into my bag, and maybe help himself to some money (?). Needless to say, I did not use swami like language to make my point that he needed to not be all up in mih so and so bag!

Friday was the worst as I decided I would take the public bus home and everytime I asked the bus terminal attendant for an ETA on my bus, he responded "5 minutes babes...5 minutes". It was the longest 5 minutes of my life and after an hour I still saw no bus and was forced to pocket my ticket and walk to the taxi stand. That was another drama cause by this time I am fuming and brother man decides to take a back road, pick up some woman with bundles that could not fit in the truck thus displacing me from my comfy seat in the back and asking me to sit next to Mr Not-so-Delicious in the front. Then the smells from the man in the maxi from San Fernando to home.

Yesterday was another winner as I got a taxi driver who clearly thinks he is God's gift to women - greasy face, body odour and all. Just a side note: Trinidad is a damn hot place and being a taxi driver is bound to be a heated experience. Please...invest in a tried and tested roll on, and some mouthwash for good measure. And also wash your clothes after one wash - dried sweat smells, okay?

Anyway, he decides to make some phone calls, despite the fact that it is illegal to drive and talk on the phone, especially when going at least 40km over the speed limit. The first call went something like this:

Wha yuh cook?...Nutten?...I doh wanna buy food. I fed up eat Chinee food and roti. I passin' just now. Make sure it have food there when I pass.

What a charmer. But then he makes another call, to another woman. Trust me when I say the fact that he even had ONE woman was shocking to me, but two???

Babes, I brokes. Buy a phone card for mih nah. A Digi....What? Yuh cyah do that for your man? $10? That cyah call nobody! Buy it and text mih the number, right? .... Yeah, yuh know I love yuh.

Knight in shining armour! And all this time his eyes are sometimes on the road and sometimes on the chest of the cute lady in pink in the front passenger seat. I also had to ensure I had the exact fare cause he kept picking his nose and I did not want to hand him a $10 bill and have him finger my change with that hand, so I dug around desperately praying I had the $7 I needed to escape that fate.

Private transportation also has its own challenges as I learnt last night when we were locked out of the car and had to call the troops and enlist the assistance of strange men to assist. However, being the germophobe, hygiene anal diva that I am, it beats any challenge public transportation can ever hope to offer. If hating the smells and sounds of public transportation make me some kind of diva, then I am a rabid, ball busting diva!

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Yearning for customer service heaven in TnT

Bad customer service makes my blood boil!

Being back home has been great and also amusing. There are just so many aspects of Trini life that are entertaining in various ways. Let's talk about customer service or in my case, the lack thereof.

While customer service in London is not stellar when compared to that of the US, it is still better than customer service in Trinidad and Tobago. I call US customer service people smurfs - cause it's like they drink smurfberry juice or are totally loaded on pot or some other type of "upper". Noone can be that bubbly and smiley as these Americans. It's just NOT normal! They scare me.

The Brits are not anywhere near as bubbly. They approach customer service with a bit of trepidation - not rude, but there is no warm, fuzziness about it either; no drug-induced glee. While not as scary as the Americans, they can be droll.

Trinis on the other hand - you're lucky if you get a smile and if they don't answer back. I always use Pennywise as the prime example of the worst of local customer service. I beg anyone to argue with me that this place has the WORST customer service known to man. I went in there last week to replenish my stocks and excuse me for interrupting the reps' conversation and asking for a bottle of shampoo to be handed to me. It was like I was begging for the shampoo and not purchasing it. All the free or discounted makeup in the world cannot hide the sourness and the lack of courtesy on the faces of these girls.

Grouchy Smurf ain't have nothing
on some of these reps

Let's not even talk about Tobago. Heinous! Unless you're white and have a non-Trini accent, you are shit. The taxi driver at the airport looked at me as though I got off the banana boat and was curt and dismissive as I tried to give him directions. I concluded that I was too black to warrant a smile and a positive attitude! I just handed him the phone to avoid making a scene cause I cannot handle rudeness especially where my money is anticipated to leave my hands and be transferred to the rude party.

I did manage excellent customer service at various eating establishments in Trinidad, where I guess, the tip is king and everyone wants a good tip. I don't mind tipping for great service and I got the same waitress last week on the two occasions I patronised one restaurant and on both occasions she got a nice tip cause she was stellar. On the other hand, I did not feel the love at my coffee shop on Monday as Sour Sally was loathe to redeem my loyalty points and give me my free coffee, which I had earned! I had to ask whether they had onion bagels about 6 times as she was busy having a conversation with the girls in the back - a non-coffee, non-customer, non-trininista-the-customer related conversation. And this after I had to pound the counter to get her attention in the first place after waiting for someone to acknowledge my presence at the counter, even after they saw me walk up. I mean...I am not invisible and I was in a dazzling sunny kinda outfit so I was not blending in with the walls either.

I swear, it's like these people feel yuh begging!!! But just to let you know, there are many instances of EXCELLENT customer service as well but somehow they seem to be overshadowed by the men and women who feel that an upside down smile is where it's at!

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Flip Flop Adventures

Sunny flip flops for the beaches of Tobago

Though I feel lazy to blog, it is one of the most relaxing times of my day. Another relaxing time is sitting on a beach, letting the sun bathe you in its heat. That was part of my weekend, in sweet Tobago. I had not been to Tobago since my friend had gotten married about 2 years ago. Shameful I know. But when you have been stuck in the cold for months and sunshine is a luxury, Tobago is no longer a weekend luxury but a necessity. So off I went, flip flops in hand...or in this case, on feet, and 20mins later, my plane was sitting on the hot runway of Crown Point International and an hour later, I was walking to Pigeon Point beach where I spent the rest of the afternoon, eating cheese paste sandwiches, lolling around in the clear warm water and gaping at the various shapes and sizes of the white people, while shaking my head at the fake accents of the black Tobago men trying to impress the white people. It's amusing as well being back in the land of the funny catcalls, which never fail to make me laugh.

It's been a good visit home so far - between the running up and down in Trinidad and the bummin' in Tobago with friends, it has been lovely. The weather has also held up pretty well. That may be an understatement. The weather is great but it comes with an intense heat that not even people born and bred in the tropics can tolerate. One exception was the day we drove up to Mount St Benedict, when it rained and cooled the place down just a bit, but it made for some interesting views like this one.



View from Mount Sr Benedict: The dark blues of the rain clouds coupled with the mist - dark and gorgeous


And zen is watching the sun going down on the beach in Tobago, after a great day.

The view from my beach chair in Pigeon Point, Tobago

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Move Your Body

Dusted off the sneakers and the fitness ball this morning

The one year anniversary of this blog comes up on Saturday and my very first entry was about my long awaited return to fitness and ultimately to the gym, in the face of fat fever. It seems almost poetic that this morning, I again made a daring return to fitness, after 7 months of no gym, no jogging, nothing except chasing trains and buses, running up train station ramps and running from Nigerian men. lol. I had planned to wake up this morning and hit the slopes, but always easier said than done. When I opened my eyes at 4.53am and saw it was still dark, I convinced myself that there was some murderer waiting on the hill to kill me, so it would be better to stay in bed where it was safe. Then I smelled saltfish, as Daddy started on breakfast way too early, and I thought, wouldn't you feel better having that fried bake and saltfish AFTER a workout? Still nothing.

Five minutes later, by sheer will, and after thinking that even if I lost half a pound, it would be half a pound less to hide under a sarong when I hit the white sands of Pigeon Point beach this weekend, I was dressed and looking for the Workout folder on my MP3 player - a folder that clearly needs some updating. I thought I would pass out after 7 months of limited activity, especially on the steep inclines which make up my neighbourhood, but I surprised myself. I guess chasing London red double decker buses can now be classified as exercise and I am vindicated! The power walk/jog, coupled with some stability ball and free weights love made for a great wakeup call. I had a great workout but there is no better workout than the one that I will be engaging in later - in the mall, with a credit card. HEY!

In honour of my ass, and my determination to keep it bootyful, and in honour of style, here is Ms B's ode to fitness as part of Mrs O's fight against childhood obesity. Adding it to my Workout folder. If I could get a DVD with the choreography, life would be golden!

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Zen: That's Where I am at

Even my dog Fidel found the blazing sun too much

So in case you missed the memo, I am not in London at the moment, but in South Trinidad. Back home. It has been a very relaxing first week, with me spending time with friends and family, especially my nephew who was fighting tooth and nail to not know this stranger in the green t-shirt. But by the end of the weekend, he was my buddy, and we were playing and eating yogurt. He also has his aunt's love for dogs, and we sat in the porch together, watching the dogs play.

It has also been a gastronomic triumph, as I have been going through my "What I Must Have" food list like a true champion. All the Trini food I have missed out on over the past 7 months.

It is hot here in the Caribbean. I don't mean let's go play football in the savannah hot. I mean let's take 4 or more showers and drink loads of water, while sitting in the a/c all day hot. Over the weekend I consciously made the decision to go out in the early evening, rather than during the day, to beat the heat. And it is not a case of Trini in London so she cyah take sun now either. The place is just damn hot! Not complaining though - it has its perks. One word - BEACH! I hope this blazing heat holds for when I jet across to Tobago for some much desired beach rest. However, with my luck, I will be sitting on the beach with an umbrella - and I don't mean a beach umbrella either.

p.s. I just looked outside and it is raining. This is great for today but let's not make this a trend!

It has been good to sleep in my own bed, in my own room with my own tv - no football blaring all day. Spending time with the 'rents and catching up with friends, cause I have missed so much. Great to not have to take public transport - huge deal for me, as I jump in the car and zoom around the countryside - just me and my music and my singing. No school work. No nonsense. I am just very much in a state of zen.

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