Sometimes I reminded that while I talk about Tobago fairly often here, I haven’t shared much about our time there. Now seems like a good time to escape there for a little bit.

This series going to be light on photos because I didn’t take any. When I’m in Tobago, I’m always conscious about not standing out anymore than I already do with my Irish skin. So I left my camera at home and just focused on having fun and being present.

We’ve never purposefully scheduled our annual trip to Tobago to visit family to coincide with Trinidad and Tobago’s biggest yearly event, Carnival, which takes place the Monday and Tuesday before Ash Wednesday each year.

I enjoy coming in the weeks leading up to Carnival, when the air is crackling with excitement, the year’s chosen soca hits playing on every radio station, blasting from open air establishments and car speakers from one end of the island to the other.

This year when we purchased our tickets, it was cheapest to arrive the day before Carnival. Last year, we left for home the day before Carnival, after attending concerts and events throughout our trip, all building up to an event we’d be missing.

Missing Carnival hadn’t ever bothered me before. There are always good things about our time in Tobago: the local food, quiet beaches and waterfalls, good music and a nightlife for everyone (not just the single twenty-somethings). But for some reason, missing Carnival last year made me feel particularly left out.

Being in Tobago for Carnival went from being on my bucket list to being a top goal for this trip, especially after the dates worked out.

We landed Sunday night, and at 3:40 a.m. Monday morning, our alarm went off. We met our group for the first event, J’ouvert (JOO-vay) in a grocery store parking lot lit by street lights. In preparation, we’d gotten little string backpacks including t-shirts to wear, a bandana, and some other goodies. Nothing in Tobago starts on time, so we stood around with the group for a while with the music pumping, trying to loosen up a little. Someone gave us glow sticks.

We could see other groups with coordinated costumes around us, including a group in neon pink bodysuits. One blog post I read about Trinidad Carnival (same country, different island and different vibe) said that you might as well wait till you get there to buy the clothes you’re going to wear because whatever you think would work will seem completely drab once you get here.

I tend toward a pretty neutral wardrobe as a rule, and it’s true that whatever I think will be flashy enough often seems lame once I get there. Island fashion is not unlike a parade of birds of paradise. This is especially true in Carnival season. Colorful braids and fantastic outfits were everywhere.

It helped that our group had a jungle theme, so the batik shorts I made to wear fit in. There were lots of people wearing ripped and cut-up clothing and animal prints. The laid back vibe took the pressure off and was very low key.

After using regular purple foam earplugs for the events we attended last year, and finding them to be uncomfortable and too high profile, this time I got Loop earplugs. They are pricier than any earplugs I’ve ever gotten, but they are designed to maintain the quality of the music while turning down the volume. They also cut a much lower profile than foam plugs.

Of course, we forgot to bring them to J’ouvert. I blame the early wake-up call.

The trucks that lead the bands have a DJ on board and most of the rest of the space is filled with enormous speakers that are cranked up to full volume. My brother-in-law was the DJ for our truck, and the group was Moon Over Water, a local bar where we go to hang out every year on Throw Back Thursdays when the Chaplain’s brother is DJing. It was nice to be with a group with a few familiar faces.

The road march took us towards the airport. The road was closed to regular traffic. A random car would occasionally come through, but it was mostly just the music trucks and the bands of people wining and chipping behind them. There were two lanes, so we would pass trucks going in the other direction, giving us an opportunity to see the different themes and costumes on display.

There were three different judging stations along the route, where we’d pull up, a short description of our theme would be read out, and then we would dance, cheer, wave our flags, and show the judges how much fun we were having. Our group won, which gave me great satisfaction, but I doubt it had anything to do with me. I felt awkward at the judging points because I’m not flamboyant or a flashy dancer. Fortunately, there were a lot of other enthusiastic people in our group that made up for my inability to relax.

We stopped often due to blockages with other groups at stopped at judging points or a tight squeeze with another truck. The sun rose slowly behind us, and by the time we got to the main part of town, we were bathed in a gentle daylight and covered with green, yellow, and purple paint which had been distributed to our group in plastic water bottles. Our group fed us snacks and kept us hydrated (I stuck with water, but unlimited beer was included in the price of participating).

The further we went along, the more packed the sides of the road became as people came to watch outside their houses, and eventually, the sidewalks and the street were a huge mass of people, differentiated only by the fact that those in the road were covered with water, paint, and sometimes beer, while those on the sidewalk were clean and dressed to the nines.

At the most crowded section, I got carried along for a while without my own effort because there were so many people. The Chaplain was always behind me, but being stuck in the flow was a little scary for a minute and reminded me of the only other time that has happened to me, at New Year’s Eve  in Times Square. Big crowds can be energizing, but they can also be a little too strong and a bit weird.

When we reached the end of the route, there was a car waiting for us with a little table set up. They fed us corn soup and bake and shark, both local street foods. It was probably around 10 a.m. and we’d been on our feet for hours, so the breakfast was one of those memorable meals you have after great physical exertion. I’d normally not seek out bake and shark, which is kind of like a fish sandwich, but WAY better, but it really hit the spot. It also blasted through my sinuses like an active volcano after I inadvertently added way too much pepper (It was an unlabeled bottle filled with a delicious-looking green sauce. As a regular visitor to Tobago, I really should have known better, but hey.)

We’d driven with The Chaplain’s brother, and were parked at the other end of the route. We were offered a ride back on the truck, but opted to walk. It was a hike, but nearly as fun as on the way there, as other bands were still in the road and spectators were everywhere. The Chaplain’s brother ran into so many people he knew that we ended up going ahead back to the truck without him, but forgot to take the keys with us. We fell asleep in the back of his pickup truck and remained there till he made it back to us.We got home around eleven that morning. My hair was caked with green paint it would three showers to remove. Our next event started at six p.m. that evening, so for the rest of the day, we took turns hanging out with the kids while the other person dozed.

From our combined phones, the Chaplain and I have just three photos from that morning. I included two of them here.