A Day At The Beach.

I wrote two whole posts today! The first is at Sprocket Ink. You know the drill. SI Badge on the right: Click it to go straight to that post. Next is a post I wrote about a story assignment The Paper sent me on yesterday. To. the. beach! They make it hard to hate them sometimes.

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The road to Maracas Bay isn't for the faint of stomach. It's a series of seemingly endless hairpin turns that wind along the mountainous north coast. On one side, the heavily forested Northern Range towers above while on the other, it continues its steep drop to the ocean.

This was my mission yesterday. A trip to Maracas to scope out the scene at what has become a tradition here in T&T. Every Ash Wednesday, the masses flock here the cool down after the two days of Carnival craziness. Sometimes I love this job.

But this wasn't the usual Ash Wednesday post-Carnival beach escape. Noticeably absent were the infamous long lines of vehicles snaking in and out of the beach. My new photographer (lost the other one on the Carnival Tuesday assignment and haven't seen him since) and I got there in no time at all.

As always, I was captivated by the pristine beauty of one of the island's most popular beaches.

How the Northern Range embraces it on both sides.

The powerful waves crashing that just seem to beg you to dive in.

Paradise!

There were a few reasons for the lack of crowds that morning. The weather was overcast that morning so many would have wanted to see if the day was suited for the beach. Others were wary because someone spread a rumor of a police shootout in the area. The weather cleared up very early with no signs of rain from there on in and police patrolling the said the shootout rumor was false, so everyone was expecting a huge influx to appear just after lunchtime.

That gave me and my photographer time to relax talk to who was already out there and, of course, take some pictures.

We came across a group who had built a sand pyramid.

They made other... things too.

What do you think? Too much to drink, or too little?

Needless to say, there are big booties, there are guys trying to get behind it.

Admiring his handiwork

I wasn't going to edit any more faces but I know this guy.

He really got into it.

Still, you just can't get over that view.

The lovely, lovely view.

Yeah, just so you know, the next few are girls in bikinis pics.

Okay! Okay! Ladies, something for you too.

Sorry, America, but we're not giving her back.

It was around this time I considered a career change.

You mean they get paid to look at this all day, EVERY DAY?!

Soon it was time for lunch.


Any Trini will tell you that when you visit Maracas beach, you have the Bake and Shark, so, of course, that's what we were after. "Richard's" is the man to go to. Sure, he has the longest lines, but that because he has the best bake and shark on the beach. Being in the media, he let us skip the line. I love this job.


Actually there are two lines. There's one to get your sandwich which moves pretty fast. After you get it, however, there's a second line to choose from his wide assortment of condiments.

Forget how some of them look. They're ALL awesome!

I was going to snap a picture to show you what it looks like... but I ate it.

Urp!

So I bought another one! YAY!

Believe me. A lot of sharks died a worthy death to make this happen.

That's around the time Mrs. C texted to see how things were going.

Trini Talk: Stueps (alternate: Steups) - A sound made by sucking one's teeth to express anger, disappointment,  frustration or (in this case) jealousy.

I typed up my article on the car ride back, handed it in and headed home. I finished my day tired and tanned but with a distinct sense of accomplishment after my grueling 5½ hour assignment.

I Survived Carnival 2012! And All I Got Was Partial Hearing Loss.

As I've said before, Carnival here in T&T isn't my thing. Unfortunately, it's a big deal to mostly everyone else so, in the media, it's "all hands on deck!" whether you like it or not.

Monday at 4 am was the official start to things with J'Ouvert. And, wouldn't you know it? I was lucky enough to get that shift. So, leaving my warm bed and loving wife at 2:30 that morning, I journeyed to St. James to spend the next 5 hours watching the seemingly endless masses of people dance in the streets covered in body paint and/or mud and/or chocolate (new this year). Since my phone doesn't do nighttime pictures well I waited until there was some light in the sky to snap a photo.

Nope, not blood. Just paint.

But that's not all. Carnival's main celebrations last two days. So that means, of course, I was out again yesterday. Yesterday was the BIG show: The "Parade of the Bands"! This is when masqueraders are out on the streets in full costume following the incredibly loud, incredibly large Music Trucks.

Yes, those are a shitload of speakers.

As you can guess those things are really loud. Where I was assignred I had to stand about 20 feet from where they set up and, even with ear plugs, I still haven't gotten my full hearing back yet.

There were some interesting displays, though.

Gaaahh!!! Mantisra's attacking!

But that's not all. Do you believe that through it all I had to put up with being surrounded by sights like this all day:

I know, right? Can you imagine? They're called "revellers" and they were everywhere!

You don't want to meet up with them unprepared. They are quite apt at performing the traditional Carnival dance known as "wining", which I believe translates to "impossibly loose waistlines that can rotate in any direction". The female reveller is especially ravenous and looking for any posterior to throw their own posteriors against to"wine" against.

The guy in the hat is my photographer for this assignment.

The average female reveller will wine on anything: Male revellers (preferably), police officers, street signs, onlookers, other female revellers, nothing and no one is out of bounds. Here's a brief clip of them in action (I suggest keeping the volume low. Plus, all the bass from the truck did a number on the sound quality):

One time during the day, I was getting a quote from a spectator and the next thing I know I was totally surrounded by them. Luckily, I managed to get back to the barrier before any gyrating waistlines got me. I was so scared.

I still don't know if my photographer made it out okay. He never came back to the office. Too bad. I liked him.

Today the paper are sending me to the Maracas beach to cover the after-Carnival cooldown concert. It's the most popular spot for revellers to go to continue wearing bikinis and partying for one more day.

Those bastards!