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Mananzilla: Sharks And Coconuts

Mananzilla Bay

I didn’t get an early start, since it was necessary to go back onto the Vitamin X. This time, I waited for a full hour before leaving the house, and I took a booster dose two hours in. This regime seems to work, although it took over three and a half hours before I was fully relaxed.

I wanted an easy trip, so I decided to head to Mananzilla Bay.

The maxi to Sangre Grande was an express service. The driver collected the fare in advance (8TT) and then put his foot down, not stopping on the way. The trip took barely an hour.

This time, I took my time before anyone could usher me into a waiting maxi or route taxi that was headed back to where I had just come from. Sangre Grande has more charm than San Fernando (for one, it’s the fruit & veg capital of the region), but there isn’t much to see besides fruit stalls and fast food joints, so I didn’t linger.

The road to Mananzilla (there is a sign) runs past the big blue police station a short way into town from the bus terminal. A bunch of people were already waiting by the shops next to it. On a Sunday, the wait can be long. Most drivers gave the international hitchhiker signal for ‘I’m staying (in the area)’. Taxis and maxis passing us were on private hire. The couple next to me kept shouting “Manan!” and eventually a driver signalled by circling his arm (there is a whole secret language here) and pulled in.

Places to stay in Mananzilla are limited, but the young man pointed out Dougie’s Guesthouse at the entrance to the village (120TT/20US for a nice apartment w/o aircon. 1(565)668-1504/cell 340-0123. See, I can do that Lonely Planet stuff!), a 15-20 minutes walk from the beach.

The beach itself is beautiful and wild, but I wouln’t want to go snorkelling there even if there was coral in Trinidad. The sea was whipped up and flecks of rust-coloured foam blew onto the sand from where I expected a pipe outlet to be. A dead catfish lay at my feet. As I bent down to examine it, something caught my eye.

Twenty metres above my head, a palm was swaying in the breeze. One of the brownish-yellow nuts had detached itself and was hurtling down, ripped sideways by the wind, until it struck the sand with a wet thud within spitting distance of where I stood. Yep, it can really happen.

There are no route taxis from the beach facility, so I trudged back into town. I passed two fishermen with their catch. Bake & Shark is really made with shark: one of the men carried two baby sharks—which I didn’t recognise—and a hammerhead no longer than his forearm.

The maxis offload in front of the bus terminal, but that appeared not to be where they pick up as most disappeared onwards into town. The people waiting to go elsewhere sent me into the other direction, down what appeared to be an deserted road. I passed another, smaller, blue Municipal Police station and came to a red-and-white building at the top of a desolate parking lot where a lone maxi was waiting. This was part of the Sangre Grande transport hub, and we left quite soon, with people appearing seemingly from out of nowhere or being dropped off by car.

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3 Responses to “Mananzilla: Sharks And Coconuts”

  1. Qpee Says:

    Not always true. Sometimes bake and shark is made with catfish. Likely not the catfish you saw though.

    …you’re not experiencing the REAL Trinidad! You haven’t even mentioned doubles yet!

    Don’t you leave here without eating one eh!

  2. Denni Says:

    Of course I’ve eaten doubles. At least once a day 😉

    They’re great with fresh coconut.

  3. Denniblog » Blog Archive » Manzanilla: a Walk around the Little Apple Says:

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