The momentous decision to immigrate to Tobago was one of those moments that comes to us all, when we take stock regarding the next step in life. We decided why wait until we are 60 to retire and what better place than the Caribbean our heritage homeland, albeit we were both born in the UK. This was also my husband’s long-time dream. He had spent seven years of his early childhood in Trinidad with his maternal grandparents, spending summer holidays in Tobago the birth place of his beloved grandfather. My family is from Montserrat. In part, our decision was also homage to our parents (bar one) who unfortunately met their demise in the UK, never to fulfil their wish to return to their respective homeland.
The execution of our ten year plan came about in 2007. Our children were adults and independent, we had no grandchildren (yet), was young enough at age fifty to take on such an endeavour and between us had only one living parent, Keith’s mother, who was in good health with two daughters living nearby.
Leaving England on a cold winter morning, we arrived to the welcoming warmth and sunshine of the dry season in Tobago. Our three bedroom rental house easily accommodated our household items shipped from the UK. It had a lovely fruit-laden garden and a fabulous view of the Atlantic Ocean. We spent one month simply relaxing, further explored the island and spent a week in Trinidad.
We knew no one on the island, but Keith had family in Trinidad. We wondered how quickly or difficult it was going to be make friends, but this thankfully proved far easier than we anticipated. Keith and I standing in queues whether in the supermarket or various businesses, amidst conversation would be approached by ex-pats, no doubt hearing our British accent. The power of sharing the same language immediately created a connection and after jovial conversations would be invited to dinner, lunch or ‘beach limes’ (social gathering) where we met other ex-pats and had an extremely busy, lively social life. We also made friends with our neighbours and very quickly learned Tobagonians are clannish and quite shy until they get to know you.
As all ex-pats learn and we were no different, the experience come with inevitable highs, lows and adjusting periods. Learning the customs was part of the course and quickly discovered in T&T the exposure of arms and shoulders in government establishments is prohibited. I was denied entry for wearing a shoe-string top and my husband for wearing an open-toe formal dress sandal. Topless bathing is prohibited. No! There are no nudist beaches and the taking of photographs of the locals without their express consent a taboo.
Although we did not have to learn a new language, English is the national language alongside creole/patois. At times I simply couldn’t understand what was being said, the speech very fast, with an undulating sing-song tone. A classic example was requesting $100 worth of diesel in our four-by-four vehicle. But thankfully family was in the back seat of car and translated what the assistant was saying. He didn’t hear my request and in dialect was in fact saying “I am not hearing you”. We had to learn the patois sayings; the very prevalent Americana names of items and local traditions. Saying good morning is regarded good manners and non-compliance as rude. I remember during the early days being greeted by complete strangers with a ‘good morning’ and my immediate reaction being “I don’t know you from Adam”. Receiving directions was strange being told in terms of north, east, south or west, near a mango or some other tree we had no idea of; receiving approximate timing as ‘in a while’ we consider on par with ‘how long is a piece of string’ and can purchase two or four tablets if you wish, as we discovered overcoming an empass of miss-communication.
Enjoying the warmth, we often walked in drizzle or light rain, whereas locals take shelter under shop fronts, associating getting wet with catching influenza. Equally working in the garden we would often continue to work if we thought it was a quick squall, enjoying the sheer pleasure of rain and getting wet, something we would never consider in the UK.
Acclimatizing to 30⁰ celsius dry heat and humidity was definitely an adjustment. Initially I was unsure whether I was experiencing a ‘hot flush’ or just sweltering from the heat. The climate necessitate most things to be refrigerated, crackers otherwise become soggy and biro pens quickly dry out. In comparison to Keith it would seem I was a mosquito magnet, taking over a year and no doubt thousands of bites to overcome the adverse reaction of itching, swelling and scarring.
Ex-pat life is filled with opportunities to try many things, the cuisine for instance. Over time I perfected two popular dishes, a breakfast dish ‘buljol’, a salted cod dish which is soaked to rid it of some of the salt, deboned and mixed with chopped peppers, pimentos, onions, tomatoes and Shandon benni, mixed with hot oil. The other dish ‘pelau’ is a one pot chicken, peas and vegetable dish. Self-Raising flour is not a common product, instead baking powder is used to the same effect.
With a postage stamp size garden in the UK, having two and half acres of land was another level altogether. Though hard work it was very satisfying and discovered a love of gardening. Planting Flamboyant and Poui trees for their fabulous flowers. Fruits soursop, coconut, bananas, plantin, oranges, avocado, lime, papaya and sugar cane. Establishing an organic kitchen garden to grow tomatoes, bell peppers, scotch bonnet, pimentos, thyme, rosemary, basil, ginger, garlic and pigeon peas.
The lifestyle is one of indoor/outdoor living and the nation very much ‘party people’. ‘Liming’ (socialising) is a national past time, whether on the beach or at home with family and friends. There is a year round choice of many festivals, the most famous being carnival; goat & crab racing, great fete, harvest and heritage to name but a few, together with events and host of activities. The general philosophy is one of ‘working to live’ as opposed to ‘living to work’. The work day is 8am-4pm with numerous bank holidays adding to the leisure mix.
Expat life comes with its challenges, but what I have learned and an important piece of advice to anyone anticipating immigrating are – being adaptable is a necessity; understanding the culture is key to assimulating; age 66/67 is a tad late to immigrate and good health is vital.
See Part 2. Of this blog, featuring the building of our house.
