A tale of two pretties

Ok, the following photos are an entirely unfair representation of two countries. My temperamental camera, which I have now replaced (huge relief), decided that it liked St Lucia but hated Trinidad. Also, I spent most of the time in Trinidad in its capital city (5 points if you know what that is without cheating), whereas in St Lucia we stayed by a picturesque harbor. So apologies in advance to Trinidad.

I’m now in a Trinidad in this strange hotel that has a kind of luxury/dormitory thing going on. There is this gorgeous swimming pool with palm trees in the courtyard, but then the furniture in the rooms looks like it’s been assembled from Argos in the 1970s and the blinds are warped like prison bars after an escape. Then there are the room's giant windows overlooking the courtyard, giving a lovely view for you, but also for everyone else in the courtyard of your room. No wonder someone tried to escape out of the blinds. A kind of luxury panopticon, with lovely council flat type walkways joining the rooms together. Anyway, look forward to better quality photos in future and no more pink distortions.
(Lovely st Lucia - where our taxi driver had in fact given a lift to Amy Winehouse during her stay)

(Still so lovely. And slightly frenchy too - maybe they left their aesthetic mark on the place)

(Trinidad from a hill in pink mist courtesy of my camera)

(Trinidad in fact has quite a high crime rate, and the highest kidnappings per capita last year, but it does not have cars with fangs as my camera suggests)

(The view from the windscreen on the way to the airport...)

Neighbours...

I am slowly meeting my neighbours. There is Ned, the biscuit king, 80 years old and 6ft 5. His house is great - full of chintz and amazing old things. He comes from a long line of bakers and invented the recipe for one of the major biscuits in Barbados (indeed the Caribbean) and has an umbrella holder made out of a biscuit cutter roller thing.

Then there is George from upstairs. He was the first guy to say hello to me and is friendly and warned me that people in Barbados are polite but keep to themselves, which is a shame he said. Apparently, if there is anything he can do, I just have to let him know. I suggested a drink but he kind of pretended not to hear that and has kept to himself since.

There is Carmen, the French artist, who has lived here for 20 years but still doesn’t think the food is up to much. There is Lianne, who is half Trinibagonian (yes, that is a word) and grew up in Harrogate of all places! She went to school across the road from my house there, although before I was born. She is attending cooking classes and her and Carmen chat in water regularly to keep their bones good. I really like them.

Then there are the peripheral characters who I don’t quite know yet. The irish teacher, the lady in the water (I always see her in the pool when I’m not there, but she’s never there when I am), the coy Geordie lady, naked guy (yikes), kind lady who hung out my washing, and most intriguing - 3 people my age who I am secretly stalking but haven’t managed to talk to yet. I am hoping one of them will become a friend. I have however, made friends with some lovely people outside my neighbourhood so all is well. And with a sparrow and a pigeon who share my breakfast each day (see video)

This is my neighbourhood - the view from my front door.

The pool, I can check my emails from here.

My house - living room straight ahead, kitchen to my left, office to the right, bedroom behind

Breakfast with the birds - and my dying camera (hence the shades of pink and distortion), no different from english birds I admit, but still nice

Ready? Jet? No.

I am tired in my hotel room. I know I am tired because I keep forgetting things even more than usual. I forgot the power cable for my laptop today when we went to work and my computer died while we were busy preparing for a meeting. I’m tired because I didn’t bring my shaving kit, and then forgot to nip out from work before meeting to get a new one as planned. I’m tired because my eyes are sore and I haven’t read the right document and because I said something stupid in the meeting. And I’m tired because I’m letting it all get to me.

And now I have another 5.30am taxi to the airport tomorrow.

The bonus of all this is, however, that I have some kick ass plane window photos…

(Miami...)

(Mystery island - 10 points if you can identify it)

(Long thin mystery island)

(I'm pretty sure this is St Kitts)