Every year, my sister and I go to Carnival in Trinidad and Tobago. For years I have tried to to explain the concept of “carnival” to my American friends. I’m slowly understanding that the idea is ridiculously foreign: replace cotton candy for endless top-shelf liquor, Ferris wheels for huge trucks blasting music throughout the entire city and lame whack-a-mole games for half-naked women and men “wining” on one another in elaborate beaded/feathered costumes. It just seems absurd for those used to a traditional American-styled carnival and, when I sit back and think about it, thousands of people parading and dancing through the streets does seem a little crazy. But that is precisely what makes me return annually: I know that I’m getting into something so ridiculously unconventional that anything can happen. Keep reading »
Tag Archives: travel story
Since 1998, I’ve filled two passports, trundled through innumerable airports and navigated the border crossings of 28 countries — almost always by myself. Occasionally I’ve been accompanied by a boyfriend, sometimes by a brave friend I’ve convinced to join me, but most of the time I wandered out into the throng of waiting touts alone.
Now, when you’re a young woman and you tell people you’re going to travel, the first question will be: “Who are you going with?” Keep reading »