The Lonely Planet isn’t really aimed at backpackers; it’s aimed at people who travel around in hire cars and don’t mind dropping 50-100US for a night’s accommodation.
What would make travel around Trinidad stressful is my tight budget. I might not get to see all the sights, but I came here primarily to immerse myself in the Caribbean vibe and to get away from the dreary, long, dark, wet UK winter—especially the Christmas madness and the month-long national January hangover that follows. Everything else would be icing on the cake.
As the ferry passed the island, it appeared that the whole of Trinidad was shrouded in clouds so dark that I could barely make out the outline of the mountains against the sky. The weather front was not moving.
I got a good drenching as I walked up the street, but it wasn’t enough for me to don the rain jacket. I hate wearing rain gear in the tropics. If you’re not doused from above, you’re steeped from underneath, in your own sweat.
I went back to Pearl’s. Not only was the weather lousy, but it was too late to travel on. They welcomed me with open arms and had my old room ready. I counted my remaining cash and negotiated a weekly rate of 100TT a night. There would be no extravagances.
There was practically a travellers’ convention going on. I wondered if all these people had read my blog. They were doctors—three Germans and one Dutch—here on training (“We get to see stab wounds and gunshot victims!”).
They hadn’t read my blog, but they had a better guidebook.