Yikes - just checked the weather in Trinidad and it is 73 degrees, 94% humidity. Oh. My. God. That is unreal....the Husbandly One had reminded me it was going to be like the Osa Peninsula in Costa Rica, which is the only place I have ever experienced anything like that.
At Bahia Pariaso (at right) we thought we'd landed in heaven. It was adorable - and an hour or so by boat to get to - very remote. Thatched roofs, as you can see, etc. We were staying in housing a wee bit less fancy - permanent installation tents - roomy as tents go, with a sort of small two-room layout - all screened to keep the bugs out, with a bedroom behind a small sitting area. Two cots, and enough room to stand up, but not if you were much taller than either of us. Reading lamps during the hours the generator was on - lights out about ten or eleven p.m. Quite cute, and very sensible, we thought. We prefer a bit of adventure on our travels.
Of which we were not disappointed. The first night, upon getting up in the middle of the night to go to the central bathrooms, I strapped on a headlamp and set out. Then 'things' began skittering all around me. We are talking large-ish things, with darting movements. Turns out it was this particular kind of land crab, which we had found gaily colored and quite cute during the day on the beach. We had even taken a picture of one:
Gorgeous little bugger, eh? It actually resembles a weird plastic toy one I'd gotten years ago and had deemed most unrealistic. Not so. At any rate, these little suckers were everywhere. During the day, some skittered about, but at night, in a nearly full moon, they were everywhere. They ranged in size from an inch or so across, to about six inches. Which is a respectable size for something that is scurrying around your feet in the dark.
But it was fine once you got used to it. They moved like cockroaches do when you turn a light on in the middle of the night, and you had to get used to them scuttling about whenever you moved around at night. I would just aim high with the lamp and move fairly slowly and let them get out of my way. Nature is nature, and it was fine. Until. Until. Until...
One night, one of the absolute hottest and most humid, we were both lying on our little cots, sweating and trying to not complain about the intense humidity, which was truly astonishing. It was after lights out, and we had both shed what minimal coverings we usually wore to bed. The set-up of the tent buildings was the aforementioned sitting area - about six or seven feet square, and then a separate tent entry with zippers into the bedroom, which was maybe seven feet by ten feet. There were two twin cots on either side, with a little end table at one end and two reading lamps on that. Enough room to maneuver around in, but hardly palatial.
We were both, as I've said, lying in our respective beds, trying to discern some sort of breeze coming through the little screened windows when we heard an odd scuttling sound that seemed to be coming from inside. The Husbandly One is even more sound-sensitive than I, and couldn't rest until he found out what it was. Plus, what else were we going to do? It was too hot to sleep, really. So he scrambled around and found a headlamp. He aimed it towards the sound - nothing. And then he moved his head, and the light beam caught one of these crabs. Which looked a lot larger when it was in our tent, I must say.
And another. And another. There were six or seven of them in there with us. So much for heaven - now we are both shrieking and trying to chase these things out. Except that like all tents, there's about a four inch 'sill' between rooms, as the 'sitting area' has been jury-rigged onto a large tent. So the crabs can't get out, and we very much wanted them out. Not going to get much sleep that way. Perhaps you could, but there was NO way we could fall asleep with crabs scratching around our very small sleeping area.
So now we are both buck-naked, wearing headlamps, trying to find something to capture them in and toss them outside. Have you ever tried to catch a land crab? Trust me - they don't want to be caught. We quickly realized there was no way to be successful at our goal, and even if we had managed to beat the odds and catch one, there was no way we were going to catch six or seven.
The other problem is that it is so hot and humid, and we're moving around more and faster than you would think possible in such a small space, so we were both sweating so much that the headlamps were slipping off our heads, and the crabs are taking refuge under our beds. And the folds of the tent. And our towels and clothing that have fallen on the ground. (Again, when you are in a very small space with a number of large crabs, you move. Fast. And they move faster. And things fall off beds.)
The Husbandly One was the first to realize there was only one answer: we could not catch the crabs and remove them. The crabs had to die. I was not up for the task, so I had the job of holding the light and trying to isolate one crab at a time, whereupon he would smash the living bejeezus out of it and toss the carcass outside. So now we are both jumping around the tent, pulling the beds up and out, slamming into the sides of the tent which are so wet from the increased humidity from our activity, which was showering down more moisture, and the crabs are trying their damnedest to escape, and we are trying to isolate, corner and kill them.
In the midst of all this, we couldn't help laughing hysterically, as really - it was too absurd. After what seemed like hours, we had dispatched as many as we could find, reassembled the beds, and settled back down, waiting to hear for any more of the distinct clicking sound they made. And after an hour or so free of it, we both fell exhaustedly asleep. Never mind the adrenalin. Never mind the humidity. And never mind that the entire tent smelled....well.....just about how you would expect a Crab Killing Field in sweltering heat to smell.
(To this day, if one of us wants to freak the other out, we make that little clicking noise and run our fingers along the others' arm.)
As a final note, when chatting with other guests the next day, one couple who had a baby was also looking rather tired and bruised under the eyes. I asked if the baby had kept them up, and they said, "No, you won't believe what happened to us! There were these crabs...." They had tried to hold out until the crabs started climbing up around the baby's bed, and then they went nuclear as well - killing all they could see.
I'm surprised we didn't hear each other.... after they had slaughtered their share of the little beasts, they pounded on the managers' door and demanded crab-free shelter. There were no more rooms available in the concrete building (painted orange above) but they were so distraught that the managers gave them their own room until another room opened.
Other than that it was just lovely! I'm assuming that the hotel we're staying at in Port of Spain will not feature such exotic fauna...
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