Road to Trinidad Carnival

As vibrant colors and hues of chocolate perfection come down the avenue to the sweet soca tunes for this year you will feel nothing short of a euphoria and an urge to twirl. Trinidad's Carnival is your runway, you are the showstopper. Everyone showstops with you, love and joy overflows, and enjoyment abounds. If you've ever needed a time and a place to leave your worries at home and experience pure joy and an another opportunity to love on yourself, bond with strangers, and feel like a goddess, then t and t is your place. The only issue is that after all of this you are bound to never want to leave, in fact you feel like chipping along with the soundtrack of your first carnival blasting from the trucks that roll behind you...

In late August, something came over me and I decided to ask my cousin if she would be interested in going to Trinidad Carnival in February 2016. That something was the feeling of sadness I felt seeing my entire timeline on social media at Trinidad carnival last year while I scrolled from my living room couch in Gisenyi, Rwanda. A year ago I was dreaming about attending carnival. The dreams started from as early as our young adolescence and teenage years when we used to go to DC carnivals.

Even though I had come up with the idea and got my cousin on board, she took off with the idea. She took off soooo fast that there were times when I wanted to back out and wondered why I even asked her! She began to research and found a package deal that would include our band entry, costumes, meals/drinks for carnival Monday and Tuesday, a 5-day hotel stay and lots of other things. Though I had just started my first semester of graduate school, I was fortunate enough to be offered a Graduate Assistantship that not only matched my experiences, but was really just created for me I think ;) and at a pivotal time. My cousin lucked out here because I couldn't use the "I don't have any money" card here.

After months of planning, and online shopping, and daydreaming, and soca mixes, and smoothies, and guilty feelings about forgetting to work out, and days when I wondered what I had gotten myself into, the day finally came when I met my cousin in Miami and to begin our sojourn to the land of carnival---sweet, sweet TnT.

We arrived at Piarco airport, exchanged our currencies, got a small phone for local calls and even at the airport as people grabbed their bags and waited for their rides, there was a sense of calm before the storm all in anticipation of what the next few days would bring.

Our arranged transportation to the hotel chatted us all the way to the hotel but not before we stopped on the roadside to grab some hottttt (and I mean hot!) jerk chicken and rice and peas and a cold drink.

Upon arrival to the hotel we were met with the sounds of soca blasting from the poolside. Our first fete----Scorch: Duck Work was awaiting us. So we rushed to get ready and donned our liveliest swimsuits for this poolside bash. If Scorch was any indicator of what the next few days would be like, then we were ready and excited. Just that night, through all the feteing, wining, there were conversations to be had and just in those few hours, I met interesting people. Quite cool, I thought.

This year we decided to take it easy on the fetes so we didn’t register and pay for every single fete possible and frankly, I enjoyed this strategy. It kept us refreshed and fully able to enjoy the events and fetes that we did go to. We did Scorch, Private Ryan’s Soca Brainwash, Sunnyside Up, played j'ouvert with Cocoa Devils and of course, Carnival Monday and Tuesday, with our band-YUMA! Next year, we will definitely add Caesar’s Ambush and two or three more fetes given the length of our stay.

J'ouvert was a blast, despite the fact that I actually do not prefer to have stuff like chocolate, paint and oil, on my face or really anywhere on me. In the wee hours of the morning, we awoke to put on funky gear and headed out. Whether or not you are hungry at 4am, you better eat because chippin’ down the road on an empty stomach to your favorite songs is not a good look. Eat up. Corn soup it was.

just before hittin' the road with the cocoa devils

cousin love always

sheer enjoyment

someone caught me mid-vibe

After J'ouvert morning festivities, we played smart again and got some rest instead of heading right about with our group to meet our band on the road for Carnival Monday. We got back to the hotel and were expected to have an hour or less for turnaround. Not happening. we changed out of our chocolatey J'ouvert gear, showered, got some rest and then it was time to don our Carnival Monday Wear. I Rep Sierra Leone (by way of the DMV) so you know what my outfit had to look like ;)

Carnival Monday was the warm up for us and the anticipating for the main event had been building. I had a blast at Carnival Monday, but pretty much I had been having a blast everywhere with enough roti, wings, doubles, gyros, and coconut water in between to keep me energized. Monday night is really the only night where there isn’t too much planned because it is understood that you need to get rest for the big day. I’ll be honest: I was overwhelmed with excitement and the thought of how things would go, but there is really no way I could have prepared for the level of euphoria that I felt on the road on Tuesday, especially after the sun began to cool down.

costume pick up had me feeling like wedding day!

We woke up early on Tuesday Morning to put on the main elements of our costumes and then headed downstairs to get extra pretty with make up, eyelashes, colorful eye shadow, bright bold lips, and gems. If you know me well then you know that I use minimal makeup. On this day, however, and in this year, I have decided to push myself to do things outside of my comfort zone and challenge myself in different ways. So I went all out for carnival, but in general that’s my new theme. Besides, the make up brings it all together with the beauty of the costume. Ready for the road…

We snapped a few pictures in front of our hotel, made videos, took as many selfies as possible and then headed out to meet up with our band. Once the parade began, the feeling of seeing so many women beautifully adorned in their costumes, with the Caribbean sun shining down on all shades was a sight to see. So many different body types, shapes, figures, shades, and all positive affirmation that we ALL look good.

There were times when I simply felt the freedom to twirl with my arms wide open as my feathers kissed my hair ringlets, and the sequins and gems from my costumes reflected light onto my chocolate skin. Perhaps, it’s the costume, the extra beauty you feel, the crowd that surrounds the route to watch you joined with the sweet melodies of the soca season that moved me to feel this indescribable joy and gratefulness that I felt. Or perhaps it’s the fact that deep down inside, I have always wanted to dance in the streets. So I’ve done it and that feeling is an experience I wish for all to have. Who is ready for the road next year?  I hope the pictures convince you.

until next time carnival

Bee’s Backseat…Next up---somewhere in Africa!

Ride on the Black Side: Colon Tingz, Bwoi

What does one super-cute, hot, chocolate, [and broke] teacher do during a 10-day vacation? This was the question. Not a bad problem to have, I must admit.

Months ago I had planned on entertaining a visiting guest, or going to Nicaragua, or returning to Costa Rica or buzzing Bocas del Toro. All of those plans fell through because I am on a budget, since I am traveling to Sierra Leone in T minus ___ days!!! I toyed with the idea of Boquete in the northern part of Panama because I wanted to spend some time in nature, going on hikes, writing, and just planning. Planning whatever the heck I want to plan. But then I did a bit of research and realized it would be too expensive to spend a week there andddddddd I’m not exactly sure that it would have been the most poppin’ place for a single lady like myself. Yeah, sure I could do some writing and thinking and planning, but the truth is right now I am not sure that I would have gotten a lot of writing done because I would have found a way to be un-relaxed. And secondly, I tend to over-think and over-plan; I am actually making an effort to relax and trying not to plan so many things in my life. I am still grasping the concept of truly ‘going with the flow.’ And let Bee tell you: it ain’t easy. It ain’t easy. Although, I have loads of fun, do crazy things here and there  (all within reason), I tend to spend a lot of time making lists, jotting down plans, and seriously over-planning even things that I over which I have no control.

So what did I do this break? I didn't make any plans. Not one, single plan. I simply (well, not really), decided that I would sit at home and do absolutely nothing until I was inspired to get up and go. Saturday I rested because the bed summoned my body. By Sunday, my good friend and partner in many ridiculous things around Panama, reminded me that this was the same weekend last year that he “allowed” me to be in his circle. In other words, he wanted us to celebrate our year anniversary of an amazing, rewarding, and truly eccentric friendship and many adventures later. He didn’t have to ask twice. I packed an overnight bag and headed to ‘di Colon side.’ Things were sure to pop-off as it was independence weekend. He would march with his school, we would up-turn in the streets, eat lots of street meat, hit the club, and be merry---all with the blackness and richness of Colon City.

I am not sure that I have ever blogged about Colon proper. But dammit, they deserve a few hash tags, peace signs, and a big, warm thank-you hug from me. Colon is Caribbean. Colon is rich. Colon is intriguing. Colon is unique. Colon is black. Colon is me.

Colon captured my heart in a way that gringos who live by traveller’s book wouldn’t understand. Every piece of Colon reminded me of an experience that I had in other parts of the world where the diaspora exists. Every well-coordinated, neon-colored, leopard/cheetah, sandal-wearing ensemble, gelled-hairstyle, reminded me of home. A home that could be anywhere. A home that could be Georgia Avenue day in DC. A home that could be MASH in Guyana. A home that could be New Year’s Day at Lumley Beach in Sierra Leone. A home that could be a Friday-fish fry in Barbados. A home that could be anywhere where my aunties, uncles, sisters, brothers, cousins, friends live.

As we waited for my friend to finish marching with his school, we enjoyed the ocean breeze from the Atlantic sitting pretzel-style on the back lawn of the Washington Hotel in Colon City. Soon after, we set out to handle the most important business: food. I was able to get a taste of the independence kick-off parade, which left me wanting more. We found a $3.50 comida sold by a church on the street. Win.  What’s culture here? The combination of the obviously West Indian dishes being called “comida.”

Next up…partying. Y’all know I love a good dance. It was a holiday Sunday. So no work on Monday and Quincena; needless to say the club would be a win and indeed it was. I danced with my friends. Alone. With strangers. Danced so much a girl invited me to a birthday “parking.” I danced so much, the people felt curious about me. And I felt this curiosity.

Monday was a beach day. We spent just a dollar to journey to Playa La Angosta. The dollar bus ride was made more interesting by the beautiful black man that adorned the seat in front of me. He was the symbol, the essence of being on the Caribbean side. His black shone. Teeth glistened. Jet-black shape-up screamed fresh. I didn’t speak to him, but I remember the neighborhood where he got off. Don’t judge me.

The beach of course was---well, I can’t really say anything bad about a beach in November ;)

Having been intrigued by the glimpse that I caught of a Colon-style parade, I decided that I would go back to Panama City, collect some more clothes and return on Tuesday morning for the Colon Day Parade.  

Every November 5^th, the people of Colon take the street to celebrate the foundation of the Colon city. People fill the sidewalks and the streets, corners, and even rooftops to witness the local schools march. And just when you think the show is over, the independence bands show up late in the evening and blow their horns, bang their drums, and fill the city with their pride.

Colon is where there a large number of black migrants settled after having arrived from primarily Barbados and Jamaica for the construction of the canal back in the day. Needless to say, the Caribbean influence and remnants of Caribbean culture is heavy. Old men talkin’ shyt to their other gray-haired friends on porches. Older Caribbean women with one special gold tooth. A plate of oxtail, rice and peas and a salad. And my brand new favorite---icing glass---and the “original, original, icing glass,” as the aunty-esque woman shouted down the carnival route. Colon is the kind of place where you come to be reminded of the fact that really, we all are one. It is the place where you see so many things that are similar in your life as a black person. It’s the kind of place that tourists say don’t go to because its’ building are decrepit, its trashcans are overflowing. But its’ trashcans ain’t the only thing overflowing. The culture, the richness, the soul---Colon is overflowing with these things as well.  It is the place where an old man, whom I have never met, can eye me with a toothpick in his mouth, and speak to me with a familiarity as a patois-esque accent laces his words asking if I “change up.”  It is a place where I would respond as if I had known this man as an uncle or so before. It is a place where I understand nuances that some people just wouldn’t get.

This is where I saw a man playing the drums in a band, who reminded me so much of my grandfather that I chased him. His tall and stately presence, his OG hat, his long Kissi chin, his Bambara finger length, his entire swag. I chased him down the parade route. I bumped into old ladies. Stepped on kids’ toes. Weaved throughout hundreds of people in the crowd. No matter what I did, I couldn’t catch up with his steady pace. All I wanted was a picture. Then it occurred to me that sometimes it’s best to just take in the moment and not try to capture it. Maybe I would have captured more of him with my own eyes, heart and soul if I weren’t so busy chasing him down with a camera. He made me think of my paternal grandfather and it made me sad, but happy at the same time. Maybe if I would have just took it all in, I would have had more peace. I have been working on this more since that moment.

Trying to learn to just enjoy the ride.  Next stop---AFRICA! :)