Meet Simon. Simon is the father-in-law of Tom’s friend. He grows fields of sweet potatoes, and is also a dear, sweet man. So I guess that makes “Simon, The Sweet Potato Farmer” a title that can be interpreted two ways. Once again, here’s Tom.
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As I continue my seemingly-forever fight with this upper respiratory bug, my husband Tom is in the warm Caribbean island of Trinidad and Tobago. He escorted his elderly mother there so she can escape the cold northeast winter for a few weeks, but not before I extracted a promise from him to fully document his trip. Armed with my Canon S5 and a Magic Jack (let’s see how that works out—so far, it’s been troublesome), he vowed to be this blog’s first ever “foreign correspondent.”
After some internet difficulties down there, I finally began to receive his first missives and photos. And so I’d like to introduce you to my husband Tom, intrepid travel reporter, currently working on assignment (ha! I get to pretend he works for me!) in his home country of Trinidad and Tobago. I love how he simply refers to it as “the island.” (I, on the other hand, come from a country with over 7,000 islands, so I’m going to start referring to my home country as “the islands.” Just to remind him who’s got more.)
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I have been going nowhere with posting on this blog lately, it’s almost as if I were a giant spider who suddenly realized she’s in the middle of a mine field.
That sooo did not make sense.
Maybe I should just keep quiet and post photos instead. Like these shots from an Indian wedding we attended on our trip to Trinidad almost two months ago. Yes, it’s been that long. So long, it’s almost as if I were a a giant roll of dough in the hands of an expert noodle maker in China who—never mind.
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Aren’t the colors rich and vibrant? And look at those glittery things!
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Pretty, yes? And shiny, too! So shiny, it’s almost as if they were giant newly-minted coins coming off the presses with the light of a thousand suns bouncing off of them. Except, a thousand suns would probably melt the coins, as well as our eyeballs, so maybe instead of suns, it can be a thousand flourescen—never mind.
Excuse me while I go in search of my senses. They were apparently last seen wandering around the customs area of Newark airport, disoriented and hungry. They were so lost, it’s almost as if they were a giant … me.
My latest Pioneer Woman photography post is up now, and if you’ve been holding back from shooting at night, maybe I can encourage you to give it a try.
I probably wouldn’t have tried it myself if not for my love of taking sunset photos. I eventually noticed that, in the Philippines, night invariably came almost right after sunset. It took some getting used to, and it prompted me to try and figure out the reason behind it.
I know, I know. I’m a nerd like that.
The reason is actually quite interesting. It has to do with the distance from the equator, the angle at which the sun sets in relation to the horizon and all that lovely geometrical stuff that I won’t impose on you. What it really boils down to is that near the equator, the sun dips below the horizon more quickly, plunging you into darkness faster. As you move away from the equator, the sun will appear to set slower, thereby delaying the onset of nightfall.
Enthusiastic to share my new knowledge, I attempted to explain it to this little guy.
He just shook is head and muttered something about tourists masquerading as locals.
Obviously, he’s already heard it before.
These boys were in the water every single day that I was at the resort for my diving certification.
Sigh. To be young again.
And on summer vacation.
Yeah, I’d sit and think about that for a while, too.