Gloria’s

My trip in Tobago started out at the lower end of the budget scale. Dean had hired a car, which turned out to be the personal vehicle of the rental company’s employee, Marvin, an easygoing guy keen for a way to line his pocket. Marvin also thought that the lean, mean power machine was a surefire way to put him in our good books, but this was before we realized just how much of a liability his lean, mean up hills and powerless low riding machine was on the hole pocked tarmac of Tobago. Not only this, but it was impossible to have a conversation over the vibrating, souped up fat exhaust and booming bass, though luckily the acceleration was fitting – no more than a ford fiesta – given the 50 mile an hour top speed limit throughout Tobago, even on the “highway” (there is only one). The Claude Noel super highway from Crown Point and the airport, to the capital Scarborough is a mere 15 minute cruise away via the new Lowlands shopping mall and the ex Hilton.

Gloria was Marvin the rental man’s relative and was offering a room with ensuite bathroom for a knockdown rate that we realized later was extortionate given the room. A bedroom featuring ill-fitting jigsaw of lino and a mattress that sank in the middle gave onto a bathroom with a 15-inch step, a dirty showerhead with cold water, and a bucket into which an unfortunate cockroach had fallen. There was also half a bar of grimy soap. The door onto the bathroom did not shut, and the door onto the bedroom and outside did not lock. This was somewhat immaterial since the first three days of my stay in Tobago were wet. Very wet. It didn’t let up raining at all. Dean was still working and I did a lot of reading.