Afternoon Tea at Mount St. Benedict

It was a Brazilian Benedictine monk, Dom de Caigny, who originally purchased 240 acres in 1912 to establish the Mount Saint Benedict Abbey. Located 700' above sea level, overlooking the town of Tunapuna, the Abbey looked rather majestic with its tower and red roofs as we drove the tortuous, narrow, steep road below which leads up to it.

The motto of the Benedictine order is “ora et labor” (pray and work), but with only 10 monks left, they get some help from the locals to maintain the church, monastery, seminary, a drug rehab center, a yogurt factory and the Pax House. The Pax House, a guest house and lodge on the Abbey grounds, is quite well known for serving a traditional afternoon tea in serene surroundings. I'd made reservations on-line to take tea one afternoon and a breather from our whirlwind tour of Trinidad.

The Pax House (pax = peace in Latin) was built in 1916 and offers views of the sprawling city below. It's plain, as you might expect. From the front, it looked lovely, but on closer inspection, like so many other sites we visited in Trinidad, it is also regrettably in sad disrepair. We arrived a bit late due to traffic and our welcome was less than warm. We were left to wait on the porch for 10 minutes before being shown to a table in the tea room, though there were only two other young women taking tea.

The xeroxed menus offered three tea services … the Presidential, the Traditional and the British. We ordered one of each. What had enticed us to come to the tea room was this description: “A famous room at the Pax House is the Tea Room. The Tea Room was constructed during World War II and it is the oldest Tea House in the country. The Tea Room serves a variety of teas from different countries.” They were out of two of the three teas offered, so we settled on one big pot of Earl Grey (which I have every morning for breakfast, by the way...nothing too exotic there). After a short wait, the tea and accompaniments were served.

Lin poured. We drank and nibbled, unimpressed by the tea, the food and the tea room. It was, indeed, very quiet, almost too quiet. Our voices echoed in the near empty room. After delivering the tea, the server never appeared again. We had hoped to learn more of the history of the Pax House or perhaps which areas of the grounds were open for further explanation, but alas we found no information available, nor anyone to provide any insight.

We took a peek out the back porch overlooking the hillside where hummingbird feeders attracted the local birds. The adjacent porch was falling away from the house and we wondered about the one upon which we were standing.

David left cash on the table for our tea. We wandered through the small parlor, seeking more information about the house and the Abbey, but could find none. We left without another word to or from the staff, quite disappointed.

We spotted a small graveyard, overlooking the city below, and walked through.

We climbed the steep hill to see what we could see, but were reluctant to trespass in areas in which we might not have been welcome. We saw a monk in the window of the abbey above and waved, but he closed his window and walked away without a sign of acknowledgment. Otherwise, we saw no place nor anybody to query.

After the 1-1/2 hour trip in traffic to get there, it was a disappointing afternoon. It might well have just been the particular day we visited, but it was a letdown after having read so much about it. I guess I was expecting tiny watercress sandwiches on crust-less bread and clotted cream and fresh fruit on scones and a wonderful story about the Pax House and Abbey. I remembered having tea in England years ago and more recently the tea house we visited in Mauritius. Perhaps that's more of what I had in mind.

Ah, well … we survived our disappointment and moved on. Tomorrow we're heading into Port of Spain for a self-guided walking tour and look around. Put on some comfy shoes and come along.

Caroni Swamp and Scarlet Ibis

According to Wikipedia, the Caroni Swamp is the second largest mangrove wetland in Trinidad located where the Caroni River meets the Gulf of Paria. The swamp is an estuarine system with extensive mangrove forests, numerous brackish channels, salt lagoons and mudflats. It's not far from Port of Spain and it's a major habitat and viewing area for Trinidad's national bird, the scarlet ibis. It was the next stop on our Trinidad tour after visiting the Hindu temples. I'd made a reservation with Darren at Mandoo Tours because they were noted for smaller, more personalized tours. We were pleased when we showed up and there were only two other passengers. We took a look at the “visitor center”, which like most other public facilities in Trinidad, is quite run-down and decrepit. Old, faded pictures of fauna and flora of the Caroni were on display and that was about it.

The boat dock was as rundown as the visitor center, but the boat and engine seemed in good enough shape. The tide was low and the shore was muddy. Scampering down into the boat was a bit of a challenge, but we managed without mishap and off we went. Darren provided an ongoing introduction to the swamplands and what we might expect to see.

We puttered slowly through the mangrove-lined channels. We'd stop every once in awhile and just drift along noiselessy while our guide pointed out things we would have definitely missed. Like the well-camouflaged Cook's tree boa in an overhanging limb (yikes) … actually two entwined boas … it's mating season. Reptile love!

Blue herons perched warily on the mangrove roots as we slowly motored through the narrow labyrinth of waterways. They'd watch until we were too close for their comfort and then take to flight following the course of the channel.

We looked for caiman, but saw none. Once again, we were confounded when our guide spotted a tropical screech owl, nestled high and deep in the mangroves, sleeping. We quietly observed him, trying not to disturb his daytime rest.

Darren made several bird calls and amazingly received answers from deep in the forest.

We threaded our way through the thick mangroves for over an hour and then the channel opened into a wide expanse of shallow water. A great white egret stood in the midst of it. Tricolor herons worked the mud ashore and a yellow crested night heron kept his distance.

Darren tied the boat to two stakes and we waited. Every morning at dawn, the scarlet ibis fly off to feed in other parts of the swamp. Every evening at dusk, like clockwork, they return to roost on a nearby island of mangroves. Darren explained that it was nesting season and the number of ibis would be less than in January or February. Then, the first of the scarlet ibis appeared in the sky.

We didn't have to wait long before more and more ibis flew past. The setting sun gleamed off their red feathers and they almost seemed to be afire as we cruised by. It's their diet, by the way, high in carotene, that accounts for their color, much like pink flamingos.

Each ibis landed and settled in to its special spot for the night. They chatted with their neighbors and preened. The deep green mangroves were suddenly alive with scarlet ibis dotting the higher branches and white egrets below. From a distance, it looked like a Christmas tree decorated with bright red ornaments.

The sun was setting quickly as we made our way back through the maze of swampland channels. Filtered sun pierced the thick overhead growth. Blue herons swam in front of us, apparently showing us the return route.

I wish we'd stayed longer. I wish we'd come earlier in the season to see more ibis. I wish we'd been closer so I could have taken better photos. I wish we'd seen caiman and maybe even a silky anteater. I wish, I wish, I wish. Sorry … I got carried away. What I meant to say was … what an awesome way to spend the afternoon.

Trinidad's Wild Northeast Coast

When we sailed along Trinidad's east coast last November, we sailed far offshore because of 1) the great number of oil platforms and associated ship traffic and 2) pirate warnings. We saw oil platforms and ships in the distance and luckily no pirates. We had heard, however, that the east coast was more remote and thus less traveled. For our land tour, this appealed to our “off the beaten track” attitude, so we booked in at one of the only resorts in the area for a couple of nights. Well, the hotel sucked, but the northeast area lived up to its wild reputation.

I won't go into too much detail on the Salybia Nature Resort other than to say, we got tired of complaining. Some of this can be chocked up to first world expectations in a third world country, but most of it was sheer negligence. In all fairness, the grounds were lovely and the pool was clean with a waterfall that worked intermittently. Most importantly, there was a swim-up bar which helped us forget how miserable the room was. The room was indeed awful … musty and ill-kept with lots of things broken or non-functioning, paint peeling and stained bathroom fixtures. A very tacky 3D picture of a lion and cub adorned the walls. The staff ranged from okay to marginal to surly. Hospitality was definitely not in their vocabulary. We never figured out why it was considered a “nature” resort because it certainly wasn't. Enough said.

It was the beginning of the leatherback turtle egg-laying season on this coast. Only night visits to the beach with permits and guides are allowed. We tried unsuccessfully to make reservations while at our hotel. We drove to the nearby Matura Beach to see what we could see ... which turned out to be absolutely nothing. The tourism infrastructure on this side of the island is minimal. Phone numbers and contact information are out of date and we were at a loss as to how to arrange for the tour and permit.

The coast in this area is rocky with big Atlantic swells crashing on the craggy shore. We drove up to Toco on the extreme northeast tip of the island to take a look at the Galera Point Lighthouse. Built in 1897, the actual lighthouse, surrounded by a small park and picnic area , was not accessible to tourists, but we'd seen it do its job when we passed by sea last autumn.

A couple of local cops were on the scene and we chatted with them amicably. They proudly pointed out that this was the point where the Atlantic Ocean met the Caribbean Sea.

They recommended the nearby Toco Beach for a dip. We beachcombed for awhile, collecting sea glass and interesting colored stones, but no shells were found.

We made our way further east along the rough route to Gran Riviere which is considered a key turtle-watching spot. Once again, narrow roads, potholes and fast drivers made for an interesting ride. We crossed several single vehicle, plank bridges and held our collective breaths as the planks strained and creaked under our weight.

Once in Gran Riviere, we found the permit office closed with no contact information available. A long trip for nothing. We asked around, but the few people we saw were unable to offer any information. We offset our disappointment with a cold beer and a light lunch at the small, but pleasant, Acajou Restaurant.

Once again, we retraced our route and ended up back at the hotel. Though the room was the pits, the pool was lovely. Previously it was crowded with daytrippers, not a lounge nor beach chair to be found. Today, however, it was nearly empty and we lounged and cooled off and swam up to the bar for pina coladas. Yum! We played cards and hung out till dinner. Dinner was ordinary with entertainment by Sir Natra, a Frank Sinatra lounge singer. I Did It My Way ... with a calypso flair.

The clock was ticking. We needed to head back to the west coast, regretfully without having seen the leatherbacks. Maybe next time. We're off to see the scarlet ibis of the Caroni Swamp tomorrow. Come on along.