POS - Not just for infertile hairy women anymore.

After a whirlwind tour of the white sand beaches of Tobago (along with their complement of wild chickens) Kevin and I are back in the capital Port of Spain (POS). Apparently the library here is pretty slick with very helpful staff (I borrowed the card of one of the workers for this internet access; many thanks to Kazim). As such, after answering too many emails, I thouht I'd add a quick update.

Crown Point, Scarborough, Speyside, Charlotteville, and Castara Tobago:
1. Apparently the British neglected to take their chickens with them on their colonial departure and now they run wild on the island, hunting small insects and lizards.
2. About two dozen mosquito bites in my 6 days in Tobago; this is despite nearly bathing myself in DEET.
3. The beaches can be wonderfully deserted crescents of white sand "licked by gin-clear waters" (as my wonderfully hyperbolic and etOH-centered guidebook reads)
4. While things in Trinidad are less than efficient, in Tobago time crawls with all the vigor of a gin-drowned snail.
5. The tiny roads hug the mountains revealing gorgeous vistas of sea dripping with tropical forest at its edge. Probably the most beautiful sight I've seen besides my mamma's fried chicken.

Tobago is wonderfully bucolic. Think (very) small town Texas in a tropical setting...then halve its rate. There is something to be said for this however, because the people are uncomfortably genuine and kind. By the end of your first or second day there, chances are everyone knows where you're staying, what you did that day and who you did it with. Conversations (with strangers mind you) typically start, as follows.

Enter tall, gray-hair Tobago stranger to boardwalk.
Tobagoan: "(indescernable) bwahy? En-jyin dah pah-ty (read as the rather calypso-replete albeit staid Fisherman's Festival in Charlotteville?"
Americans: "Oh yeah, the music is great."
Tobagoan: "Dyah enjahy yah time at Pirates Bay?" (We asked someone how to get to it about 6 hours previously)
Americans: "Oh, yeah very quiet and secluded. Its probably the best beach I've been to."
Repeat 3-4 times and include variables of activity, food, or guest house.

As for today in Port of Spain? Kevin and I again frequented the Breakfast shed for more delicious no-nonscence creole/Trinibagoan food. Tonight I'm MOST excited about something I've been dreaming about since 7th grade thanks to our lovely Canadian neighbors (Barbados and St. Lucia émigrés). Mighty Sparrow, just past 70 and undisputed king of calypso is performing tonight at some place called 51 degrees. I can't wait to hear "Both of Dem" "Big Belly Man" and any number of my childhood favorites. The only caveat being of course that there is a dress code to this supposedly dapper establishment. As an American tourist with a too small bag, I've only flipflops, muddy Adidas, and a good faith in karma. We'll see. Worse comes to worse I'll beg. Profusely. I'll keep you updated.

Gwahn nah boy.

So apparenlty I've got a few more minutes here at the Banana Boat's internet connection. Unfortunately I won't be able to share pictures at the moment. However, let me give a try a being descriptive.

Trinidad is to Tobago as Baltimore is to Allegheny Mountains. One, wreaks of unsewn edges and grit and the other is a quixotic escape for those bounded by the former. Anyway, more details on that to come. Quickly some observations

Tobago:
-Gorgeous clear blue water
-Strangely hypnotic sing-song and sun-kissed English, best heard during beautiful arguments.
-There is never a hurry, ever.
-Times and locations are as fluid and intangible as the salt in the sea.
-Small villages spill down the mountainside to embrace the sea all along Tobago's coast.
-Calyspo songs spill out the autos to embrace pedestrians and thin-walled hotels all along Trinidad's roads
-It will rain.
-Black and Indian equals paradise

In anycase, I'll be back to write shortly. There is a Fisherman's Festival in Tobago's northeastern village of Charlotteville. It promises to be a great time.

Non Sequitur

Sculpture fastened to highway above Blue Bayou. It just caught my fancy.

Get Out of Town

Though I LOVED my last Child Psychiatry Rotation (which I hope I may receive a slick rec from), I can say I am TRULY ready for a vacation. So. I'm out. Going to Trinidad and Tobago. I'll see if I can try to keep this thing updated from there. The picture above is Houston's new 'Blue Bayou'. Somehow they've tamed Buffalo Bayou with cool blue lights, trails, and an armada of baby strollers. I recommend everyone check it out.

A Very Inconvenient Truth Indeed

Fluid, compelling, hilarious, & practically ebullient. Thinking back to the 2000 Presidential elections, I would have never associated these words with Al "The Bore" Gore. Low and behold, though, these words seem a bit modest when describing the Tennessean who "used to be the next President of the United States."

If you're reading this, chances are you've heard of his new global warming documentary coming out today called, An Inconvenient Truth (to accompany this there is also a nice $24 paperback of the same subject wonderfully compiled by the victim of Floridan miscounts). As such he's apparently touring the US with a presentation very similar to the film. Where's the first stop?

The belly of the anti-eco beast. Houston Texas.

So, as any good pro-ice shelf citizens would, my roommate and I moseyed on down to the Hobby Center's Sarofim Hall to pick up some shiny new student tickets for said lecture-tainment.

It was packed tighter than Big Oil's wallets. Valet streamed with petrol-sipping Priuses, and 'Kerry 2004' festooned Bavarian autos. Hemp-adorned neohippies were frantically passing about their various fliers of equally just causes to the surprisingly receptive pre-theater assemblage. Left and right there were guys holding hands, mom's speaking of social responsibility, and eyes rolled at the mention of Iraq. A pretty solid crowd from Houston. All of this was unfortunately with an air of idle wealth given the pricey seats. Kevin was positively glowing in line until, "Yeah, they've sold out. No more tickets."

What? Damn.

As previous experience with a Gershwin play and the Chinese Acrobats dictated, someone is going to want to give away a ticket or two. Unfortunately, there were a good 20 people or so hovering about all after the same thing. Some willing to pay. And then immediately in front of me a woman burst through the door of lobby. "Anyone want a free ticket?"

Yoink. Score one for Cecil. Putting the measured and strained looks of congratulations of my fellow ticket seekers aside, I then tried to help Kevin. None needed of course. He managed to swindle one from some old lady (read he was very kind and she liked his soft voice).

After some guitar and vocal music that wreaked of free love and dried fruit, Al Gore came on stage and bestowed us with a healthy helping of charisma and news of our environmental irresponsibility. I've never been so entertained by impending doom. Think, enjoying a nice tea while having a heart attack. Gore was incredibly compelling. Apparently the whole of the scientific community is crapping their pants while your average Joe and their media isn't quite convinced. Honestly, I feel bad using superfluous energy for this blog at the moment. I implore everyone to see the film soon. If not for you, for your future children living in newly beach-fronted Oklahoma.

After fretting about the CO2-emmitting ride home, I thought, "Where was THIS guy six years ago?" Not, of course, that the US would have appreciated him given the fat and spoils of the Clinton years, but I would have REALLY REALLY preferred this guy to our current 'Axis of Feeble' as the Economist says (aside: though I read the Economist, I am not, in fact, a Republican). If he'd exposed even a glimmer of his jovial quips and zeal circa 1999, these amber waves of grain could have potentially not been the bane of world existence or at the very least not so foreign policy stupid. Homeboy is not roboto after all since having left politics. Using the international yardstick of conviviality, "Would I have a beer with this guy?"

You bet your Prius I would.

Personal Statement.

So I'd like to think that writing comes pretty naturally to me, however my recent travails with my personal statement have been anything but fluid.

The other day I talked with my former attending on inpatient psychiatry to set up a time to talk about the glowing letter of recommendation (as he calls) it that he's writing for me. As such I offered a draft of my CV and Personal Statement. Having written a good half dozen versions of the same thing I thought it would be easier than moral-voters. But, gasp, I had trouble. Imagine that

Granted I'm still pretty new to my new love of psychiatry, but still. The question of why do you love something is difficult to package compassionate and cohesively in a page and a half. Is it my love of allegory vis-à-vis my James Baldwin/Ralph Ellison obsession, or is it the infinite shades of a pragmatic gray? Perhaps its because of my desire to fill a grand need for African-Americans in healthcare. Or maybe I like to vacation and sit during the day.

In any case, translating my nebulous thoughts, desires, motivation, and intrigue in 12 font is hard. Maybe I'll put a copy up in a bit when I feel its organization is less embarrassing. In any case, now that the fourth year medical students are now MDs this whole process of applying for residency has become a more tangible and equally frightening. Think global warming just after Katrina and Rita. Hopefully there will be a lot less stress though.

Finalmente!

So I've finally gotten around to updating the site. It's been quite some time and I had all these Buenos Aires pictures to share. Unfortunately the photos aren't captioned yet, but a little birdy told me to upload anyway. Hope you enjoy.

CecilWebster.com

Non Sequitur

One of many autos at the Art Car Festival some weeks ago.