Hassle-free haven

JENNIFER GRIMWADE explores Port of Spain and goes 'liming' in a land where friendliness rules.

From the moment we land at Port of Spain, it's obvious we are in for a good time.

The locals, travelling home to Trinidad and Tobago, are clutching ghetto-blasters and hoisting steel drums.

No one hassles us, not even the taxi drivers or porters. Instead, a gentleman offers me a quarter and shows me how to use the phone.

Driving into town in a beaten-up old Cadillac, we pass the Tranquility Government Primary School.

Down by the port, we lunch at the Breakfast Shed with a sign hanging on the canary-yellow wall reading, "We Use Happi Oil". And do the cooks look happy - incredibly fat mamas dressed in gingham and old Mother Hubbard hats. One cook, stirring a cauldron of creole corn soup, is literally five feet (150cm) tall and five feet wide.

I have trouble not staring, but I soon learn that having a good look is part of the culture, a common practice. You go downtown to "lime", to look at each other, wander aimlessly and hang out together.

Checking out hairdos is a big part of "liming". At the hairdresser you may opt for a Jerry Curl, a Leisure Curl, maybe a Wave Nouveau, even a Crunch. But one thing's for certain - you don't want to be seen with frizzy hair.

Not everyone has frizzy hair, for Trinidad and Tobago is one of the most multicultural countries in the West Indies. Indians may dominate a cricket crowd, but patois is still spoken, traditional Ghanaian cloth is still worn, Rastas wear dreads down to their tight big black bottoms, and Adam's Bagel store is run by a third-generation Lebanese.

My fair hair and blue eyes are a novelty, but no one ogles me. Instead I am constantly welcomed by strangers in the street.

Most visitors to Trinidad and Tobago head straight to the resorts on the island of Tobago, just off the coast of Venezuela. So few people stay in the capital, Port of Spain, that we can't even find a postcard.

But we do find Samaroos Carnival Supplies shop. We buy sheets of hologrammed paper to make our own postcards and lose ourselves in a sea of glitter, metallic braids, masks and masquerade makeup alongside boxes of baubles and beads.

Equally colourful are the huge, old flame trees, clumps of bougainvilleas, blossoming crepe myrtles and lilacs bordering the edge of the Savannah, the focal point of this seaside city, a former sugar plantation of 80ha.

Although Port of Spain has 65,000 people, it is easy to move around. Simply hail a Route Taxi or respond to, "Taxi, honey?"

More often than not you'll have to share your taxi, and what a joy this can be, for all the Trinis chat as though they have known each other for aeons.

Just like the lead articles in the local English daily newspapers, they will invariably discuss music or cricket as you drive past the decrepit, traditional gingerbread houses with shabby wooden fretwork and rusty tin roofs.

Cricket, carnival and calypso are entwined in every Trini's life. The great Calypsonian Lord Kitchener is renowned for writing songs masking naughtiness with double entendres, such as Don't Kiss Me Too Low and My Wife's Nightie. And this grandmaster is equally famous for writing Kitch's Cricket Calypso, The Ashes and Carnival on You.

Kitchener died in 2000, but the traditional role of the calypsonian as the political watchdog remains alive and well. Calypso nights are held regularly at the Mas Camp Pub, and if you are lucky you'll hear the Mighty Sparrow sing his latest clever calypso song. Even if you can't understand the accent, the fast talk, you can't help but join the contagious laughter. And there is truly no better way to learn about contemporary Trinidad.

Lord Kitchener wrote The Beat of the Steelband in 1944 and no visitor to Trinidad should miss listening to a steel band. When steel drums were first fashioned from cast-off oil drums in the 1930s, they were not considered cool. Today, steel bands play for consuls and ambassadors, and the upside-down hotel, the Hilton, has a poolside steel band every Sunday.

Throughout the year steel bands rehearse for the competition at the carnival. They practise at pan yards, big open tin sheds with concrete or dirt floors, and carparks full of carnival floats.

Consisting of tenor, bass and alto steel drums, a steel band sounds just like an orchestra. I can't believe my ears, and surreptitiously look around the pan yard for a piano or an organ, but of course they are not to be found.

And I can hardly believe my eyes when Percy Sledge plays the Queens Park Savannah Mother's Day concert. Regardless of their age or shape, the women are dressed to the nines, diamante straps holding up hugging, glimmering, shimmering black dresses with slits to the thighs.

Famous for singing When a Man Loves a Woman, Percy Sledge is not as popular as the bar. Everyone's jostling for attention, trying to buy their shout - a bottle of rum, a bottle of coke and a bowl of ice.

It's Mother's Day, and they are all out for a good time. I am sure you will too if you are lucky enough to visit Port of Spain.

Port of Spain

Case notes

Airport taxi: US$20 ($47).

Hotel: The Hilton is the best hotel and has excellent views of Port of Spain.

Bed and breakfast: Williams Villa, Luis St, Woodbrook, US$60 ($142); the rooms are small, but Mrs Williams is a mine of information.

Little Nature: Frederick Court, off Frederick St, has excellent fruit drinks.

Flights: American Airlines flies Auckland to the Port of Spain, stopping at LA and Miami, for $3350 single return.