Well since I am stuck here in our house recovering from the infamous dengue fever while everyone else gets to go out and play in the jungle I suppose I will write a blog post catching up on all the stories and little anecdotes that I have been neglecting to write down, mostly due to laziness I guess.

Life in Trinidad has been quite interesting. We get some chance to interact with locals, whether it is with Mahase and Jogie, our neighbors and landlords of sorts; people at the grocery store, people at the bar or just random acquaintances. We learn bits and pieces about the culture of Trinidad from all these people. The country is made up most basically of two groups of people, Indians and blacks. The Indians are mostly descendent from the time in Trinidad’s history when it was a British colony. The British would have Indian indentured servants working on their farms, and when their servitude was up, they themselves became farmers. The blacks, like in most of the Caribbean, are descendent of the time of the slave trade. The striking thing about this though, is that white people are basically nonexistent. It has been a very interesting experience living in a country where your race is the distinct minority. It is such a departure from what I have been used to at home. I feel like I haven’t really been able to take full advantage of the juxtaposition of my situation, mostly because I live and work and recreate with 9 other white people, and we rarely have the opportunity to travel outside of our little circle. Which on one hand is fine because they are all good people that I enjoy being around for the most part, but when one goes to the grocery store or to town to do whatever, it is a bit annoying walking around in a pack.

Anyway, that is neither here nor there, except some interesting situations arise from our whiteness. One, is that we are often asked if we are enjoying our holiday in Trinidad, and I can say with confidence that outside of Arima 99% of the populous just assumes we are tourists. Which is, when you live in a place for months at a time, a little annoying. At the same time it is totally satisfying to be able to say that no, I am not a tourist, and yes I live just outside of town, I have been here for a number of months and I probably know way more about some things in your country than you do. Another interesting situation that arises is that I am often referred to as “White Boy” or “Whitey.” This occurs especially when I am in the car driving through town. I have found through numerous experiences is that the best way to deal with the situation is not to ignore the cat caller, but to respond in the most nerdy American white-boy voice I can muster and inquire as to how the civilian’s day is proceeding. In addition, Trini men like to show their appreciation for women, especially white women, by making an extraordinarily loud kissing noise as they walk or drive by. I have also found that the offenders are usually quite surprised when a male in the group of women returns fire with a kissing noise of his own....