When you think about Colombia, your mind doesn’t automatically jump to beaches, sunshine, and fresh fruit salad served up from street carts, does it? Most people think of guns, cocaine deals and misery; but in six weeks of travelling around Colombia, I barely saw a glimpse of anything like this. […]
Over breakfast a few weeks ago in Tobago, I was listening to the conversation of a table of four locals next to me. The only man was an older man that looked, and sounded, like he had immigrated from India at some point. He had a big, sweeping, bushy mustache and his English was a mix of proper British style English, that I imagined he learned in India, and more of the local creole dialect, which is damn difficult to understand at the speed they throw it out.