After Havana, Trinidad ranks pretty highly as a tourist hot spot. So it was with some trepidation (given my experiences elsewhere) that I stepped off my bus onto the rough cobbled streets in a blackout. I had reason to worry, it was almost the straw that broke the camels back. Spoiler alert.. I didn’t like it.

It’s common for long-term travellers to hit flat spots after a certain period of time. It’s happened to me in the past and I’ve seen it in others. The enthusiasm for novelty just wears a bit thin after a while. What at first might seem a bit quirky, fun and interesting just becomes a bit of annoyance after a while, and a lot of an annoyance after a while longer. Coupled with this feature is often general fatigue and weariness from sleeping in a new bed every few nights, poor diet, drinking too much, not exercising, missing family and friends at home, missing beans on toast and any number of other things.

Now before you mock and get out the worlds smallest fiddle for the entitled old white guy who isn’t even working, I know, I know, I’m extremely fortunate to be able to have this opportunity. Living the (my) dream and being able to do whatever the hell I want, whenever the hell I want. Most people will never get that opportunity in their lifetime. Certainly 99% of people in Cuba won’t. But boo hoo for me, yep it’s been a bit of a bitch lately. So I may not have been on 100% form when I arrived.

My first outing in Trinidad kicked off well enough after I checked out the nice view from my accommodation terrace on another gloriously blue skied day. First order of business was to walk the town centre to get to know the place a bit. Fifteen minutes later…done. FFS!! I’ve got 3 more days in this place, what the hell will I do here? To say it’s small is a bit like saying Rob Burrow wasn’t the biggest of rugby league players or Donald Trump isn’t the nicest of people.

Well, let me get the good thing (yes singular) out of the way first. It is definitely cute. I’ll throw some postcard photos below to prove the point. It’s mind boggling how the slavery business can create cute-ness, but they definitely managed to do it here somehow.

But say hello to my leetle friend.. my nemesis has returned… ‘Amigo! Amigo! Amigo! do you want some..’ blah blah bloody blah.. delete as appropriate. Er no.. gracias pero no.. no thanks.. no necesito… no necesito nada… nope. FFS I’ve only walked 50 feet what the hell is going on here!!?? A quick scan around reveals the problem. 30 little craft stalls/shops/street vendors and no bloody punters. Where the hell is everyone? There are absolutely no punters to be seen. I am the sole wildebeest detached from the herd staggering across the Serengeti as the pack of hyenas snap at my heels. Mindlessly nipping out of force of habit and muscle memory rather than any sense of intelligent purpose. If you even looked for a second you would have seen me say no to the first 5 people yet you think you just might convince me?

In what was to become an ongoing theme, Trinidad has a big capacity problem. Far too much of it. It’s a tiny place but there are lots and lots of decent looking restaurants and bars, all open, all the time, with rooms and rooms of empty tables and chairs. The place has a nostalgic Covid ghost town feel about it. If the staff and street hustlers weren’t here it would feel like the opening scenes of 28 Days Later. Dawn of the zombie apocalypse with nothing but the sound of a banging wooden door in the distance to indicate any other signs of life.

And my leeetle friend has a not so new catch phrase ‘where you from?’. In 50 feet I get asked the same question half a dozen times. Except it’s not a question at all. It’s rhetorical really, or rather someone, sometime, explained to these people that it’s a routine greeting that you should always open with. But this is why it gets under my skin so much, because it’s emblematic of the vast majority of Cubans I have met who have absolutely no interest in me as a person. Being ignored or stared straight through, as happens to me often as well, is more honest really. Asking where I am from feigns interest, it makes me think, just for split second, that you are a curious human being with a general interest in others.

I’ve just stopped responding. When I first started at this game I would reply ‘England’, but that only provoked a startled vacant look, as if they don’t know what the formula response to that is… other than ‘do you want cigars England?’. I’ve also tried fighting back ‘why?’, ‘del mundo’ or firing the first shot ‘where are you from?’ None bring satisfaction. When approached at my table by the guitarist from the sadly average band, with basket in hand, I immediately put my hand in my pocket for money as I always do, and said ‘here’s some money for the music but please don’t ask me where I’m from’.. ‘Oh thank you thank you!!… hmm where you from?’ …Dude please!?

And all of this has a damaging effect on other wildebeest. On two occasions I attempted to talk to other obvious European travellers in the hope of getting some kind of empathy at shared suffering or a kind word, but all I got in response was ‘no thank you’ as if I was another street hawker, when one look would tell you I wasn’t. But they were probably Germans so… you know.

As the night wore on there were a few people out and about, all huddled together for the security of the herd. There was some template band playing the same tourist friendly hit songs. Apart from the main central venue, every other bar and restaurant had more staff than customers, not a good look on a Saturday night.

So there you have it, in a rambling nutshell. A moany piece from me today, but I can only tell it how I feel it. Trinidad is small, Trinidad is empty of visitors, Trinidad is full of repetitive street vendors. What time does my bus leave? I might just go and sit in the bus station for the remaining two days.

Postscript – on my last day, my Air B and B host procured a hire cycle and I headed for the beach. The beach villages were delightfully empty and I was loving it… until… crack! .. oh dear.. It seems the rear hub has snapped.. unfixable. Never mind, at least it’s only a 5 mile walk back.. in 38 degrees. But to be honest, a couple of dips in the sea, a lovely lunch the walk was worth it, and my best day in Trinidad.