If I ever did have to leave, these are the things that would break my heart. The drive to Mayaro with its unique sound and smell. The corner that rounds from the Sangre Grande old road to Manzanilla always signified summer holidays. The sound of the wind in the coconuts and the ocean breeze meant that we were nearly there. We could see the sea!
I have seen this peaceful scene in many guises.
It is where the swamplands meet the Atlantic sea and it can be idyllic or horribly violent depending on the tides. On the opposite of this scene are the brackish mangroves and this is the only place that I have ever seen an anaconda in the wild. Supple and powerful, wrapped up in the roots of dense undergrowth, we were past it in a flash. A horrified glimpse from the backseat of a car.
This is Mayaro beach. It is quite simply beautiful. Not in the Maracas, north coast beach type of way but in the walk for miles and stare out to the horizon and imagine nothing between you and this sea until Africa way. As children every piece of detritus that was washed up, we imagined coming straight from an exotic ship wreck. It was also the beach that turned deadly beautiful at Easter time with the scores of Portuguese man-o-war that floated onto the beach trailing their lethally beautiful purple tendrils, irresistible to legions of daredevils, popping them with coconuts while running from the searing stray splash.Sunset at Crown Point in Tobago
