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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Working It Out

Ah yes. Another day. It was sunny the past couple days but lucky me, I woke up and headed to class amidst grey and rain. So a friend asked me if I had been getting any exercise since being here since as most of my early entries on this blog were all about fitness and gym adventures and my daily efforts at the sweat shop to stall frumpiness and keep my awesome ass in shape. Well, while I do not have a gym membership here, this was my answer to her.

My day, when I have a 9am class, goes something like this:

• 5.15 - wake up...hustle a 'fresh. (take a quick shower)
• 6.30 - leave the house to catch the 6.34 bus. It is a 7-8 min walk. lol. It becomes a near sprint.
• 6.36 - see the 6.34 bus driving by...I cuss the driver even though it is my fault
• 6.37 - run my ass like Usain to catch the bus behind it...thank him kindly for waiting
• 6.45:57 - run like ass from the bus stop to the train station to catch the 6.47 train...breathless. I usually miss this train by the way, so my running is usually for nothing, so I have lately, just stopped running
• 6.56 - run like ass up the stairs and up the ramp and down the stairs again, to catch my second train
• 7.09 - speed walk up the ramp then speed walk maybe another 1500m , then run like ass either down the escalator or the stairs, and then run like ass the last 200m to catch the last train for the morning
• 7.34 - get to my university town...go to Tesco for water or whatever
• 7.36 - see the bus turning the corner...run like ass to catch it or risk standing in the cold for a next 15 mins
• 7.something - walk to class

Exercise. What's that? lol. It may not be as effective as my 2 hour workouts at the gym but they keep the  hips from spreading to massive proportions and that ramp walk at Waterloo really works the glutes. lol.



God..this is nasty! Stop!

In other travel news and in keeping with my V-Day trend until Monday, I am all for love and people being in love and wanting to show their partner they love them and all, but do all that at home. I was unfortunate enough to have to sit behind a most nauseating Middle Eastern couple who kissed all the way to our final destination. Maybe they were not Muslim, but if they were, they were showing the world they could PDA with the rest of us. It was full blown lovin'. Not just little love bites, but amateur smacking - *smack smack spit smack*. It was really disgusting. What was worse was the fact that the train was full and I had nowhere else to go, so I sat there and suffered in silence. I mean, I always believe that when people behave in this manner in public it has to be one of a few things

1. As Trinis would say, they "never-see-come-see" or "never-expect" which basically means, it's like they never had a man or a woman and never expected to have one, so when they get one, the world has to know. Buddy, the chick ain't all that...keep that on the down-low.

2. It's not YOUR man or woman. It's someone's wife or husband you be smackin' on. I remember taking a taxi as a 16 yr old and in my school uniform and a couple in the backseat with me could not be bothered that a young, impressionable person, in her school uniform no less was next to them - they kissed it up the entire way. My innocence - tarnished forever especially as I later found out the woman was married...not to Casanova in the car but to another poor sucker.

3. You live with your mama and have nowhere else to take your woman to snog it up. Well, hotels can work too. Not the train. Please.

PDAs are not cool. They can be, if done tastefully, and you may even get an "awwwww" from me, but not when it's a slobbering, greedy, desperate mess. Spare us. Spare me. Please.

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Burgundy Baby

During the week I am often so tired that I get by with basic coordination, where I don't have time to change handbags or I'm too worn out to wear the heels that go with a blouse. But there are those off days when laziness and convenience equal super diva, and today was the day, when everything fell into place on its own, and personified the saying that beauty is effortless. My glasses and my blouse, and my nails are also the same colour and this was not at all planned I swear. Of course this meant that when I hit the pavement this morning to go to the drugstore, I had to contend with the Third World Romeos,including those mandated to protect and serve, but it comes with the territory. Just too hot, I know...

Little do they know that I am in immense discomfort, having worked muscles that previously were on extended vacation until yesterday. I'm not quite sure why my shoulders are so painfully sore considering that my workout yesterday was lower body, but maybe it's residual pain from the day before. I dunno. In any event, today is rest day. Grey's Day! I never workout once there is a fresh episode of Grey's Anatomy and Flash Forward because I would be too tired to stay awake. I have started going on Friday's which for some might be insanity, but for me it makes perfect sense:

1. The gym is empty cause everyone else is drinking and liming
2. Empty gym means more access to the machines I want
3. Going out drinking means empty calories I can do without
4. Going out drinking means spending money on empty calories I can do without, when I can save that money to buy cute handbags and matching wraps

I am on a mission to get into my favourite grey pants by July. God help me, if I have to eat rice cakes and go to the gym on Sunday morning too, I will do it.

But... at least I am coordinated like no other.

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