My first few days in Trinidad are remembered as an exhausted, melded blur of new experiences, and as such some of the following may not have happened precisely on the 21st, but rather on the surrounding days. We spent much of the time in and around Arima, acquiring groceries and other necessities. At some point on one of our numerous errands I picked up a copy of Richard ffrench's Birds of Trinidad and Tobago, Second Edition, which was an invaluable introduction to the avian fauna I would come to see in the weeks ahead.

During our shopping trips in town, I had an experience that was until that point foreign to me: being a minority. In a country whose demographic is comprised primarily of dark-skinned people of African and Indian descent, I felt like a pale beacon, drawing frequent looks from passers-by. I had at least one stranger walk up to me to feel my long, braided hair. Other shoppers in the street frequently stopped to make friendly conversation and ask us where we were from, and my brother and I, cameras slung across our shoulders and painfully aware of how much we looked like American tourist stereotypes, told people on more than one occasion that we were Canadians. My brother, not much one for conversation, told at least one gentleman that he was Norwegian, and strongly implied that he didn't speak much English.

Our hosts and extended family cooked pelau for us, a simple chicken and rice dish with pigeon peas that quickly became a favorite of mine during our stay, and one I would continue to enjoy after returning home. My impression was that pelau is a basic thing to make when you want something hearty and home-cooked but not too fancy, much in the way that something like spaghetti would be in the United States. On one of our day outings, the group picked up doubles, a popular street food made from fried dough, curried chick peas and other seasonings. I was far less culinarily adventurous in those days and was unwilling to try them, as I wasn't fond of the smell of the curry. We were introduced to other delights, including tamarind candy (sweetened, decadently tart tamarind pulp with chili powder), which I still buy to this day when I can find it.

We had a bat visit the house one night, fluttering up at the ceiling in a panic until it was able to find its way out, and saw new and interesting lizards on the back patio. We played poker here and there, and my brother and I sat in the kitchen late into the night listening to music on my portable CD player (already a relic when I got it) with headphones and a jack splitter, and tried out an album left out on the kitchen table: "Bring Down the Power" by calypso singer Ella Andall, jamming to "Shame," a culturally and politically critical piece belonging to a genre of which Trinidad is collectively very proud.

We retired to our room with a shared bunk bed fairly late, but primed for an excursion the following day.