Bare music, bare food and barefoot

Donnie Bunting carves up his succulent roast lamb reared at his Longville Park farm at Christopher and Neadene Tufton's birthday party, Hopefield Avenue, Liguanea, St Andrew, last Friday. - photos by Colin Hamilton/Freelance Photographer Six weeks ago my touring partners and I flew across to Tobago for the Plymouth Jazz Festival. I'd been to Trinidad's twin island before, and knew exactly where I intended to get the local fodder.

Which brings me to a word of advice on planning a holiday at this time of the year at this particular place: If you'd like to go to next year's event, then call your travel agent now. Reserve your flights and accommodation, and worry about buying concert tickets later. The one thing you don't need to book is a rental car. Every man and his brother turn into a taxi driver during this three-day weekend at the end of April. And if you dare ask where you can hire a vehicle to drive yourself, then don't be surprised when someone hands you the key to his jeep, tells you it's US$50 a day and he'll be back on Monday to collect it. Again, there's nothing sinister about it and you're in no danger. There's an opportunity for the locals to make money by providing you with a service, and that's all there is to it.

The journey

Now we were able to drive to Store Bay on the west point of the island for curried crab and dumplings from Miss Jean! I had been thinking about this dish since my last visit five years ago, so there was no way I was leaving a scrap of 'meat' behind. It is a typical meal in Tobago, and Trinidadians living in Kingston, New York and London have all told me about 'Miss Jean's'. Our evenings were tied up with the singers: Smokey Robinson, Steel Pulse, En Vogue, Whitney Houston, Rod Stewart, and the barefooted belly-dancingShakira . The performances were fantastic, with the exception of Whitney's, who managed to be so bad it was worth watching the disaster that ensued on stage.

By the end of each night we were all starving. Due to the early start of the shows: five, six and seven, respectively, and the strict timeliness of the stars, there was not a moment to move from our seats to eat in between acts. Many food vendors were selling corn soup, 'doubles', shark and bake, and rotis, and we were all over them before the clock struck 12. And then the process would recommence the next day with the same: bare music, bare food, and somewhere in the world a barefooted Shakira!

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