All done Rumba-ing, I walked the half a block to the junction to get a taxi home. During the day there are about 6 taxis lined up with the drivers standing outside, wildly motioning you to pick their particular taxi. As it is now dusk, there are very few taxis waiting and a group of waiting home-goers, looking bored or anxious. I taxi would pull up and 8 people would swarm towards the idling vehicle, all wanting to know where this driver was going: short or up the valley. It was the pinnacle question, that one that would determine if you would frantically try to get into the car or if you would sadly saunter back to the curb. Finally get to your house, your dinner, your bed, or stand there, continue to wait, to hope that the next car would be your car.
I think the longest I've ever waited for a taxi was 10 minutes, and that might actually be a stretch. After 10 minutes tonight about 5 short drop taxis had come and gone, leaving a core group of valley goers, huddling together for support. Another taxi would pull up and a swarm of us would descend upon it, a couple would dash around the opposite side of the car to steal the seat behind the driver. This dance continues, back and forth, back and forth, never ending. Because you just never know when your car will arrive and you may lose your seat to someone just a little bit quicker, so you continue jumping on and off the curb, one eye on the driver and one on the person next to you, ready to push them out of the way.
20 minutes, 30 minutes, 40 minutes...nothing. All short drops and us valley-ers are getting might anxious and frustrated. The walk back to the curb has turned from sadness to pure anger. It was a stomp back. I actually offered a driver over twice the price of my seat to take a group to the valley, nothing! It is well past dusk now, full on darkness. I forgot my phone, so I am stuck here and I'm starting to get nervous. It is then that I begin fervently praying, please, please, please send me a way to get home. 5 minutes later my trusty driver, Steve, is driving down the street with one open seat in his car. He recognizes me on the curb, stops and waves at me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
...if you past readers are wondering, the end of Tobago was great. I enjoyed some more beach time and had no more bug bites! I also got a lot of great research stuff done that I will now spend a good couple days trying to analyze. Here are some more pictures!
This is the house next door to where I stayed, where all those kids from the previous posts live. It just makes me sad for those sweet little kids.
I caught a fish! On Sunday I went fishing, and by catching a fish, I mean someone else did all the work and I reeled it in.
The fishing group...Anil, me, Andrew and Kirsi. Andrew is a volunteer at the clinic from Washington and about to go to Med school, Kirsi is his girlfriend, just here relaxing! Anil is a guy they met at a grocery store they go to who offered to take them fishing...only in Tobago!
This is a Manchineel tree, obviously, and you aren't allowed to touch it because it is highly poisonous. If you stand under it while it is raining, you will actually get burned. It used to be used as poison on arrow tips back in the days of the natives...thought it was kinda cool!
Rain clouds rolling in over the ocean. I missed getting caught in the downpour by about 45 seconds!
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