2/9/2013 - Ilhabela, Brasil Adventures: Written by guest Blogger TracyGiesbrecht

Our final port destination on the cruise was Ilhabela island, which is about 210 miles southwest of Rio de Janeiro.  The island is absolutely gorgeous and at first blush it reminded me of ‘the Hamptons’ of Brasil.  Gorgeous hills lined with think lush jungle terrain, an ample supply of higher end tourist stores in the town center, and expensive boats were just a handful of things we spotted rather quickly.  It was also bustling with other Brasilian tourists enjoying a weekend get-away in paradise.

Stinky Jack Sparrow

We were greeted by a Jack Sparrow look-a-like in the town center.  For a small donation  he pretended to shoot you, cut you, and posed with you for pictures.  In fact, he was so authentic that his silky shirt was smothered against his back with sweat, not to mention, his body odor was out of control. 

One has two activity options while in Ilhebela.  Hire a tour group to escort you into the jungle with a heavy duty 4 wheel drive or explore the beaches at your pace.  We chose the latter.  While exploring the beaches we stopped at several beach bars to assess the menu.  The price of the local drink of Brasil, caipirinha, is a good gauge for the overall cost of the restaurant.  Let’s just say, Ilhebela isn’t cheap, it was ‘expensive’ or ‘even more expensive’.  

Expensive as shit

During our restaurant window shopping we ran into Basil and Dan at a dive beach bar.  Dan quickly offered us the rest of his big beer for free, which I graciously accepted without hesitation.  He admitted that the partial beer he drank had him feeling pretty buzzed.  He was drying off from his swim and decided that wearing his wet speedo was unacceptable.  He proceeded to change into a dry speedo right in front of us while barely covering up with a towel.  Ummm, we saw enough of Dan’s 86 year old goodies in 20 seconds to scar us for life.  But what the hell, you only live once.

2/5/2013 - Maceió, Brasil Adventures: Written by guest Blogger JT Giesbrecht

I distinctly remember hearing the following statement over the intercom of the ship the morning we docked in Maceió, “We have been advised by the Brasilian government that you shouldn’t eat any food from the street vendors.  Also, please do not swim in the ocean as the water is contaminated.”  Hmm, okay.  So, that leaves us with taking our chances with the food and admiring the hot Brasilians with very little clothing at the beach from our perch on the shore.

On our way to follow these basic marching orders we were stopped every 30 seconds by locals who wanted to sell us something or anything.  They typically approached Chalu first since she obviously looked the most Brasilian of our group, which meant she ‘must’ speak Portuguese.  Fairly quickly, she figured out that you simply needed to say, “Fala Ingles??” (speak English?) in order for them to flee the scene.  It actually turned into a comical spectacle as we proceeded down the boardwalk discouraging one peddler after another. 

We came across an adorable older looking lime green VW van that had been turned into a mobile drink trailer, which I learned at the end of our trip were still produced in Brasil up until two years ago because of limited safety requirements.  The biggest draw for us was the mere fact that the lady running the trailer yelled to us in English.....we hadn’t heard English on land for days!  She showed us this extensive menu of caipivodka with all fresh fruits and just as we were salivating she mentioned that she only knew how to make 2 of the drinks.  We each ordered a muddled tangerine and strawberry caipivodka.  After 2 glorious sips, Chalu had a terrified look on her face and burst out, “Oh no! We just drank their ice!  Oh well, I guess it’s too late.”  And that was that.

Our next stop was a beach cafe to use their free internet, little did we know they would charge us for listening to the DJ they had on site once we tabbed out.  Upon our arrival, an adorable 10 year old girl approached me with a priceless smile and gracefully forced one of her many hats on my head.  She slyly pulled out a mirror and encouraged me to see how wonderful I looked.  Instead of buying the hat I threw her two bucks and asked for a picture with her.
 

At this point we decided to order food and assumed that the dish we ordered appeared to be beef and cheese empanadas according to our Portuguese translation.  To our surprise, we were given fried fish.  However, the beach view of half naked bodies from our table took our minds off the little mix-up. 

Once we arrived back on the boat we were excited to find out it was Latin dance night up in the Crow’s Nest.  We were pleasantly surprised to find more than 1 person in the bar for once and the ‘mystery couple’ had also made an appearance.  The woman left shortly after we arrived which left Frederico to fend for himself.  He proceeded to take turns dancing with all of the ladies in a variety of dance styles.  Let’s just say that he owned the dance floor.  Chalu found out that he was originally from Mexico and was living in the south of France teaching dance.  So this explained all of his fancy outfits and precise moves.  

However, this didn’t answer the other burning questions surrounding the couple.......stay tuned for more.

2/3/2013 - Recife, Brasil Adventures: Written by guest Blogger Tracy Giesbrecht

Recife was one of the least memorable ports of our cruise.  In fact, I had to review the pictures from this city just to remember what kind of trouble we encountered.  As I research it a bit further it’s now dawning on me that we missed seeing the majority of Recife according to wikitravel.  Since internet cost us around $.50 a minute while on board the ship we relied on the travel guide, Daniel, to give us tips for sightseeing in most ports.  However, there were many times when we arrived in the gangway (exit ramp on the ship) too late to find him or he was swarmed by older ‘clams’ who were very upset that they couldn’t understand what he was pointing at on his simple cruise maps.  

Jackfruit vendor

We were shuttled into the Old Recife part of the city and decided to take in a couple of tourist attractions by hoofing it the old fashioned way.  On our way to the sites we encountered a mix of urban living and the ‘anything is for sale’ attitude of the Brasilian people.  There was a friendly local who was cutting up jackfruits from the back of his cart.  It was such a large unique looking fruit that we were immediately drawn to him.  He was missing a few teeth, had extremely dirty hands and was using a small machete to elegantly dismantle the jackfruits.  We tried our best to ask him what kind of fruit he was selling and he eagerly handed us pieces of the fruit to taste.  He asked where we were from and proceeded to make hilarious ‘shooting a gun in the air’ hand gestures once he understood we lived in Texas, Estados Unidos.  We laughed out loud from nervous embarrassment and tried to tip him for his fruit tasting which he discouraged ever so politely. 

Convento Franciscano

Shortly thereafter we arrived at the Convento Franciscano de Santo Antônio which also houses a museum of sacred art.  We agreed the $2 admission fee per person was well worth it especially since we would have access to a bathroom.  (Of course we hadn’t learned our Brasilian lesson that this only meant access to a toilet.  No toilet paper or soap.)  The convent was built in 1588 and boasts beautiful gold engravings and portuguese-tiles throughout.  While trying to capture the beauty with pictures we were nicely scolded to quit using flash as it will create a break in the chemical bonds, which produces deterioration.  Oops!  Our next stop was Casa de Cultura which was once the city prison and has been turned into an assortment of regional arts and crafts housed in each cell.

Sala de Internet

Lastly, how could any port destination be complete without the access of free or cheap internet?  Our typical task turned into an hour excursion and allowed us to see the immense amount of goods for sale on any given street in Recife.  Jesus must have asked 10 people where we could find the closest Sala de Internet (internet cafe) and we were given a variety of answers.  Turns out that Brasilians love to stop and try to help you but they notoriously point you in the wrong direction.  Finally, we stumbled into a sala de internet and were told to go up a tiny spiral staircase.  The ceiling on the second floor was no higher than 7 feet and the equipment was equally unimpressive.  There was no wifi available so we proceeded to plug away on these old machines during our 30 minutes of paid internet access.  At one point the entire room was full and as I turned around to assess the scene I saw that every single computer was logged into FaceBook.  

Moral of the story:  It is truly amazing that you can travel to a multitude of destinations to connect with the local people while telling yourself that staying off the internet grid is in your best interest.  Yet, the connections you make in person will follow you for potentially years to come once you solidify these new connections online.

2/1/2013 - Finally entering Belem, Brasil and the Mystery Couple: Written by guest Blogger Tracy Giesbrecht

We were so excited to finally enter Brasilian waters which meant we were only ten days away from Rio and Carnaval!  Our ship’s travel advisor, Daniel, had encouraged us all to peruse this large authentic Brasilian market during our short stay in Belem.  All we had to do was get a ride on a tender from our ship and then take a free shuttle from the port into Belem which was 45 minutes away.  

Port area

Let’s just say that nothing went according to plan.  Our ship couldn’t use our own tenders, thanks to the Brasilian government, and the Brasilians didn’t supply enough tenders for our passenger requirements.  This put us hours behind schedule and by the time we arrived at the port we only had 2.5 hours before we had to be back on the Mother Ship.  This left us no time to wait for the shuttle into Belem.  

you tell me what that is

These set-backs actually turned into a positive experience for our group as we decided to simply explore the port area.  We entered the ‘very local market’ which had more underwear for any size person than I’ve seen in all Victoria Secrets combined.  A bit deeper into the market we saw raw cuts of beef, chicken, fish and numerous unidentified animals.  Many of the cuts of meat were hanging on a hook out in the open with their tendons and cartilage in tact.  Our next stop was a local grocery store to buy champagne for our upcoming Sunday Funday on the boat.  This leg of the trip took longer than expected since this was our first experience with ‘reals’, Brasilian money (pron.: /reɪˈɑːl/) and trying to communicate with very little understanding of the Portuguese language.  

cerveja

We rounded out our short stay by drinking large ‘cervejas’ for $1.50 each, trying to obtain intermittent free internet and using what would become the norm for Brasilian bathrooms.  The typical bathroom entails a door that is very difficult to lock if it locks at all, no toilet paper and lights which turn off automatically 5 seconds after you have sat on the toilet.  But this can all be forgotten when a food vendor knocks on your door and hands you a baby roll of toilet paper in a dirty plastic bag.  Thus began our experience with the generous and kind people of Brasil. 

Back on the ship our curiosity was piqued by a 'mystery couple' who sat near us almost every night for dinner.  We guessed the woman was in her late 50's to early 60's and the gentleman was probably early 50's.  The mystery was surrounding their relationship status and why they were on the boat together.  It was perpetuated by his never-ending wardrobe of sequenced vests, flashy shoes and shark skin suits.  Did he like women? Was she paying his way?  Did that mean he had to sleep with her?

Stay tuned to find out what we know about the mystery..............

1/30/2013 - Devil's Island, French Guiana Adventures: Written by guest Blogger Tracy Giesbrecht

View of Devil's Island from Royale

The first time I ever heard of Devil’s Island, French Guiana, was when I was at the travel clinic in Austin prior to our trip.  We were told we needed the yellow fever shot prior to entering Brasil due to our itinerary of cruise destinations.  The nurse at the clinic was kind enough to give me a print out of each island we would encounter which included a color coding to help us identify disease laden areas.  Needless to say, Devil’s Island was grayed out signifying that there was high prevalence of yellow fever and malaria and she cautioned that we should wear 35% deet mosquito spray while visiting the island.  Oh goody!

Prison cell

Our ship’s travel guide, Daniel, gave us the history of the political prisoners they once held near the shark infested waters and assured us we would only need 1.5 hours to see the whole island.  However, we took double the time to traipse through historic ruins, old prisons, a lagoon area, and the gift shop on a mission to find monkeys.  It seemed that every passenger we passed had just seen a group of monkeys who were very friendly and willing to pose for pictures as long as you gave them a little food.  As luck would have it, we saw no such thing during the first half of our trek.  

Next, we encountered a group of French speaking young people who were cleaning up areas of the island while dressed in camouflage outfits.  Besides the woman at the gift shop/refreshment stand these teenagers were the only other people who came to the island during the day.  Some of the young men were sporting fitted camouflage shorts and we couldn’t resist taking pictures of them as we crossed their path.

French clean-up crew

At this point Chalu and I decided to explore the east side of the island before heading back to the ship and Jesus went back into the west part of the island on his quest for monkey sitings.  We agreed that we would meet back on the ship and knew the last tender, the small boat which would take us to the ship, was leaving at 4:30pm.  We heard there was a lagoon near our path and continued on until we finally found the serene body of water.  It was just Chalu, myself, an agouti and a cock.  Suddenly, some of the young French men appeared near us and we started to get a tad worried.  What if they were naughty kids in a Guiana juvie program who were sent here by boat everyday to do their community service?  Chalu tried her best to communicate with them but to no avail.  We slowly got up and made our way out of the lagoon area and could hear one of the French boys yell, “Facebook???”.  Whew, all they wanted was to be our online friends. 

Finally, a monkey!

At 4:10pm we were in our stateroom on the ship and I said to Chalu, “I hope Jesus is okay.”  Not more than 15 seconds later our phone rings and we are asked by security if Jesus is in the room.  By 4:20pm the captain says over the intercom, “We are waiting on 2 more passengers before we can leave.  I really wouldn’t want to be stuck on Devil’s Island!”.  The captain is unbelievable.  You aren’t even considered late until 4:30pm.  Later we found out that Jesus was waiting on the tender to arrive to take him and other passengers back to the boat.  Crisis averted and he was able to see some freaking monkeys! 

1/28/2013 - Tobago Adventures: Written by guest Blogger JT Giesbrecht

Tobago is the smaller of the two main islands that make up the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago.  It is located in the southern Caribbean, northeast of the island of Trinidad and southeast of Grenada.  We were told that Pigeon Point Beach was must see since it’s beauty hasn’t been destroyed by corporate greed.  We negotiated with a cab driver to take to this beach to see what all the fuss was about.  

Mr Bicep and Limbo

The moment we stepped out of the cab we were fresh meat for all the snorkeling and ocean excursion companies in the area.  Each company has a smooth talker who strikes up a conversation with you about what they have to offer and how you need to quickly make a decision since ‘their boat was about to leave’. We decided to stay on the beach for a while and the smooth talkers approached us one after another.  One of the smooth talkers used to be a body builder and we convinced him (with very little effort) to show us his biceps and then to do the limbo dance for us under Chalu’s beach wrap.  After hooting and hollering his efforts we sent him on his way empty handed.  

Drian, the cricket player

One of the smooth talkers from earlier in the day, Barlin, found us at a local beach restaurant and wanted us to meet one of his fellow excursion business associates, Drian.  They told us they each had several boats and that we could have a private tour of the lagoon or a snorkeling excursion.  We thought this meant the trip was ‘free’, but soon found out they would need us to pay $40 to cover the cost of gas.  When we told them that was crazy expensive they asked us to walk down the beach with them towards their boats.  I whispered to Chalu that we may be inviting trouble if we obliged their offer.  She told me that she would make it clear that they better not try anything funny.  And she sure did.  “So, I want you know that I know taekwondo so you better not try anything funny.”  Drian quickly replied, “Well I know nigger-rate!”.  We all erupted with laughter and felt more at ease with their offer to show us around the beach area.

Barlin's crew

It turns out that Drian had a very interesting story.  He lived in England for years and played cricket professionally until he had an injury which caused him to move back to Tobago.  He seemed to be effortlessly running his excursion company as a distraction while he was trying to get strong enough to play cricket once again.  Barlin had lived on the island his whole life and seemed more content to simply run his excursion company while simultaneously flirting with the tourists.  His crew seemed to really respect him and were joyfully repainting one of his boats as we approached the end of our tour.

Overall, the island was full of happy people who just want to make a simple living off the tourists who are looking for untouched natural beauty.

3/11/2013 - I feel in love in a Hopeless place - Chalu Harden

 I decided since I was so behind on my blog that I would start doing more recent events and let Tracy continue to catch up on our February 2013 adventures. 

Last week I visited Rocinha favela, which is the largest of the more than 700 slums in Rio De Janeiro. The unplanned housing expands the height and width of a large hill bordering, Barria de Trujica, one of the largest urban national parks in the world. The dilapidated structure is made of brick, tiles, stones and a plethora of recycles materials with no noticeable rhyme or reason. 

At the beginning of the tour the guide pointed out the government water plant, hospital and post office that have been recently added since the Brazilian government seized the community from the ruling drug lord, who was reported to be only twenty-eight years of age. Along with the cooperative between the favela community and police, came improved waste removal, security and a promised cable car. The cable car will allow movement throughout the slum, while avoiding the narrow passageways, uneven and treacherously step covered with trash, the constant tickle of water and the occasional dog feces along the path.

A walk through the favela engages all senses.  As I passed hair salons, tiny eateries, mom and pop stores that provided everything from toilet paper to pet supplies, my feet slipped and splashed along the wet uneven cobbles, while I grasped walls to remain safely in motion. The wafting scent of sewage mixed with passion fruit flavored sweet breads baking in one of the many small padaria filled my nose. Throughout the favela my ears were treated to montage of Rihanna's We fell in Love in a Hopeless Place, Brazilian Telenovelas, barefoot children laughing while playing and the constant drum of unrecognizable Portuguese words into cell phones and along store counters. The sights were amazing, with a panoramic view of countless colorful, tiny, non-symmetric apartments and store fronts leading to a stunning beach framed by million dollar high-rise apartments and enormous natural rock formations. In Brazil, favelas are often close to affluent area to help supply a constant stream of maids, nannies, cooks, gardeners and construction workers.

Because Brazilians are such a fascinating mix of colors, shapes, sizes and appearances, I often get mistaken as a Brasileira myself. And as always, I find that the most interesting aspect of the favela are the adaptable, vibrant and hopeful people. Women sit in doorways breast feeding babies, while simultaneously taking in the day’s gossip and tending to a stove full of beans and rice. Countless shirtless men with irresistible tanned worker physiques pass by with wheel barrows full of raw materials in the collective quest to repair, enhance and expand the sprawling favela. It is, however, the children that are most breath-taking. All seem so joyful and unaware of their sometime filthy surroundings. With a budding entrepreneurial spirit, the kids of the favela sell art work, dance for tips (quick video of dancing) and learn how to say “Money” to gringos at the age of two. As we passed by a woman with a baby that had curly blonde locks and blue eyes, she laughs and shouts to the Swedish guy on the tour, “seu filho”, meaning your son in Portuguese.

At first glance you wander how and why anyone would live in the slums. The obvious comes to mind; the people are too poor to do better. However, I soon found that this explanation was too simplistic. Of course there are many who are stuck in the Favela hoping for a better life. But, more often, I believe it is the cup of sugar or toilet paper from a neighbor. The always available help to maneuver a new appliance to your fourth story apartment.  The forever open front and back door that allows you to yell at will to your three surrounding neighbors. I believe the overwhelming sense of community and collective struggle is the glue that holds this colleague of dilapidated buildings, shops and hopes together. 

2/6/2013 - Guest blog for Vitoria Brazil - written by JT Giesbrecht

At first blush Vitoria looks like all of the other Brazilian ports we entered.  However, we did two things differently this time and it completely changed our perspective.  We joined Phil and Bonnie for a 3 plus hour taxi tour and started to understand the power of the Brazilian caipirinha.

Phil takes great pride in setting up taxi excursions by utilizing firm finger pointing at a map and decades of getting exactly what he wants for the right price.  All the while speaking English louder and louder for the Brazilians to understand.  Once Phil acquired Danielo's service we proceeded to cram our 6 bodies into a tiny cab. 

Our first stop was Metropolitana Cathedral in the center of town.  It was brightly lit by the sunlight transferring its rays through magnificent stained glass windows.  Our next stop to Palacio Anchieta was quite uneventful and only a block away, however, Phil insisted in his impeccable English that we have Danielo drive us there.  Next, we were taken to the ruins which must have been in horrible condition as they were closed for remodeling.

Penha Convent is a convent located in Vila Velha and its just on the other side of the second highest bridge in Brazil.  Other ship mates who took "official quadruple the price excursions" were told it was a "1" on the scale of terrain one must tackle to get to the top of the convent.  Let me assure you that it should have been given a 4 of 5 rating and we even had to take a breather mid-way to the top, not to mention, carefully watch each step due to the uneven stairs.  After we took in the beauty and scenic landscape around us we crossed paths with Ava, a fellow ship traveler.  She has what appears to be serious Parkinson's disease and looks to be in her late 80's.  she was determined to climb the remainder of the way to the top with nothing more than the stair railing.  We were all moved at her determination and passion for life in spite of the obstacles she faces.

Our final stop was to a chocolate factory and the highlight occurred when Phil decided it was completely acceptable to intently stare at Sharon's breasts while we were having our picture taken.

Once we parted ways with Bonnie and Phil we had 2 hours to explore the rest of Vitoria on foot.   

While deciding where to go we met an Israeli man in a drugstore who spoke broken English.  He told us not to go past a particular street because it's dangerous but then he decided to take us down that very same street and dump us off at a hole in the wall sidewalk bar.  We were greeted by the owner with big beers to share, our first real caipirinha, and free fried pork skin.  The pork skin was so sinfully delicious that we just had to place an order for more.  In the meantime, a local non-English speaking proceeded to chat it up with Jesus and in a matter of 4 minutes he had given us his email, phone number, and address.  In return I told him numerous times how we were going to "make love to his ass" but used more colorful verbiage.  He just grinned in delight.  He sent us on our way with a taste of his disgusting shot and warned us never to mix beer and caipirinhas.

By this time we agreed it was time to go back to the boat since we had learned never to be late (which includes being 15 minutes early in their book).  On our way we ran into some young crew members who told us the captain extended our time on land by 3 hours.  Of course we chose to do what any self-respecting traveler would do.....drink more caipirinhas and beers while hamming on the locals.  This is where I met a 90 year old local named Paul who spoke fairly good English which he had picked up from years of working on ships.  He gladly shared his grey gun powder sniffing agent with us and we blindly followed his lead. 

At this point we stumbled our way back to the boat and did our best to look 'normal' for our set 8pm dinner party. 

The evening was topped off by enjoying a Filipino show in the large showroom.  We thoroughly enjoyed watching many of the Filipino crew members share their culture and talents with the audience.  In fact, our drink server from the dinner hall was dressed as a woman and he looked so tickled to share this side of himself with the guests.

In closing, there were 3 life lessons taught to us during our stay in Vitoria:

1.  Someone is always worse off than you but it doesn't they can't live life to the fullest.  Remember this the next time you say "you can't do something"

2.  Don't drink caipirinhas unless you are ready for the consequences.

3.  Love yourself no matter who you are.

1/27/2013 - Trinidad Adventures: Written by guest Blogger Tracy Giesbrecht

A couple of days before we would port in a specific city a crew member named Daniel would give a presentation on the best sites to see, activities to do and reasons why ‘this particular city’ is SO dangerous.  Our take-aways from his presentation on Trinidad included a must stop at the Steel Drum (pan) competition in Queens Park Savannah, the fact that they use TT$ for money and to hide all of your valuables.

Trinidad and Tobago is where the Steelpan was born.  A steeband consists of metal oil drums cut to different depths, with the flat top dived into sections which are hammered and tempered to give wide range of notes when struck with the rubber-knobbed end of a short stick.  Since 1963 there has been an annual steelband competition called Panorama and there are 4 categories of steelbands which consist of minimum and maximum number of players for each category.  The steelbands are graded on general performance, arrangement, tone and rhythm.

In order to make it to Queens Park Savannah in time for the competition we decided to take a cab from the center of the Port of Spain, Trinidad.  Jesus told the cab driver where we needed to go and he proceeded to tell us it would cost $20 US.  Jesus immediately crinkled his face and said with disbelief, “$20???”.  The cab driver spontaneously cut his price in half and said, “Fine, $10 US”. That sounded more reasonable to us.  When we arrived at the ‘Big Yard’, another name for Queens Park, we tried to buy tickets to Panorama and were delighted to find out the tickets only cost $2.50.  We didn’t realize they actually meant $250 TT’s.  At this point it took us at least 2 minutes to divide this number by 6 for the conversion to US dollars and agreed it wasn’t worth $41 US to see the competition.

Click here for a quick video of the steel drum band

Another couple from the cruise ship saw us walking away from the park and encouraged us to slip into the park on the right side where the steelbands were practicing for the competition.  The  sounds of the pans/drums were alluring and you could feel the beats pulsating into your core.  The local people were enjoying dancing, drinking and being friendly to us foreigners.  One gentleman who stood out to us was in his mid 50's and he had on a purple polyester suit, a top hat, white gloves and a large malt beverage inhand.  He took turns holding us closewhile we danced to the magnificent sounds in the air. (click here for a quick video of the man in purple)

Next, we decided it was time to eat.  We didn’t realize that so many places would be closed because it was a Sunday.  Luckily, a police woman suggested a local place which served up a tasty buffet.  Our quest for some Sunday Funday drinks was equally difficult to find.  Most of the locals said bars were closed on Sundays but eventually some pointed down a main road and said we wouldn’t want to go into the one bar that was open.  Of course that is exactly where we wanted to go.  At first blush, I must admit that the bar looked pretty sketch.  From what we could see it was very narrow, kind of dark and it had bars ‘on the bar’.  The locals inside gave us a look that would make most tourists flee the scene.  We agreed to take our chances and order some beverages.

Within 5 minutes we were escorted to the deserted back of the bar by an employee where there were fans blowing some much needed chilly air.  The half toothless employee wanted to know if we were having fun and enjoying the bar.  Once we cooled off we walked back to where the action was taking place and immersed ourselves into the scene.  The locals loved dancing with us and couldn’t get enough pictures of us with their tiny flip phones.  They were asking us about FaceBook (which we eventually understood its power of uniting the world on one social platform) and one gentleman was begging me to come back and visit.  At least this is what I gathered through his broken English. I told him that would be no problem as long as he paid for ALL of us to return.  He was so confused and a rather large girl who had taken a fancy to Jesus had to explain my answer to him.  We were so delighted with their acceptance and treatment of us that it was difficult to leave our latest Sunday Funday scene, however, the captain had instilled an unhealthy level of fear of being left behind in a foreign land.

In closing there were 3 life lessons during our time in Trinidad:

1.   Almost anything in life is negotiable.

2.  There is a fine line between following your gut and throwing caution to the wind.

3.  If given the chance people can pleasantly surprise you - so, give them the chance to do so!