the wild and wonderful world of caribbean tour guides

tour guides are actors. they have to put on a show that lasts 2 to 6 hours at a time - sometimes longer if there are unforseen delays. they have to sell a little bit of themselves coated in a heavy dose of their customers perceived stereotypes in order to make their bread and butter. i would love to do a paper on the weird ephemeral dynamics of the relationships of tour guides.

tour guides have to hustle for customers all day everyday if they hope to make a profit. then, if they dont own their own boat, they have to pay to use a boat and its crew. and hopefully, the boat will match the fanciful tales they've spewed to the unsuspecting tourists who have pledged money to be entertained.

if there is inclement weather, or problems with food or sickness, then there are other things to deal with. its like pledging to host a party every day. people always remember the behaviour of the host and the food. you can cover up most things with booze. seasoned hosts know this. our tour guide attempted to do the booze cover up too. the funny thing is, tourists who are stereotypical one-off tourists can be fooled by the booze trick because that fits with their idea of the party-loving wild and crazy caribbean personality. never mind the fact that Mr. Guide said, "i dont want you to be drunk while you snorkel". ten minutes into the trip he happily pours "rum punch" to all the passengers. and then 15 minutes later, he instructs the captain to pick up speed to make up lost time and we all attempt to either down our drinks or watch as the red concoction (not actual rum punch) flew out of the cups and all over the white boat. all this happening 40 mins before we reach snorkel spot #1.

on a side note: physics really comes into play here. you have waves going at their own speed. a boat powered by two revving engines going AGAINST the waves. people sitting at various points in the boats, holding cups with red liquid. the waves, the boat, the people, the cups and the liquid are ALL moving independently of each other. this becomes obvious when the boat hops and your body takes its time slamming down into the (mecifully) padded seat, and your hand comes down and the liquid in the cup eventually follows - some of it making it back to the cup and some of it making it all over the place.
the captain and three unsuspecting passengers in the middle of the boat got a "rum punch" dousing when our friend in the front decided she had finally lost the fight with physics. just like when you throw something out of a speeding car in the front and it whips into the back, the 3 passengers ended up with red jouvert splatters on their white tops.
but hey, they were boozing it up all day so by the end we were all "friends". we even have pictures with them.

and that's the other thing. you spend a day drinking, dancing, hanging on for dear life, shivering, and having conversations in internationally accented english, you feel you have a bond. a bond that transcends race, nationality and even class - cus heck, we all had to fork over the 80US (480TT) to take the tour. i had a random pair of old white men walk over to me after lunch and ask to take a picture with me. i felt like i had joined the circus... or stepped back 200 years. but what do you say? we are comrades in arms. fellow tourists who are linked via the thin thread of shared financial means (if only for a day). he can tell all of his friends that he took pictures with a native. a young beautiful native that they filmed dancing to african drums with her ethnic hair and her authentic wrap.

later on, [stereotypical](white) tourists LOVE this!, they started a C O N G A L I N E. with people dancing badly. i hid on a tree branch. and filmed my friends in their glorious tourist moment. i can't let go of my sese training and step outside of my embodiment, nationality, location, history in order to enjoy this banal activity. that conga line was followed with some limbo dancing. my friend tried to coax me off my tree branch but i wasn't having it. dont rope me into your neo colonialism!!

[fast forward 6 hours later when we had a wining conga line going at the shade. different people, different setting. i joined because i didn't feel like that was such a performance of my embodiment and the stereotypes some of those old crusty tourists had of me. ]

back on the boat after the lunchtime fete on no man's land, people were feeling quite liberal after having had copious amounts of the alcohol they had paid for (all you can drink he said). "you're a @#$%ING LEGEND!!! YEAH!" people decided to continue dancing. on the boat. earlier, the captain had removed some of the bags that had been piled up behind the windscreen for safekeeping saying that he couldn't see with all the things in front of him. even at 6'4, visibility can be an issue when things are stacked against you. however, the now very drunk, and of course, highly intelligent people, decided to dance AT THE FRONT OF THE BOAT. they managed to do 3 things: bring down the nose, put weight in the front to counterbalance the heavy back end, and completely impede the captains sight with their flailing arms. yes.

i stayed back wondering how he was managing to get where he was going without crashing or going offcourse. that's when i noticed the GPS. good thing. the drunken revellers assumed that i was hanging back because i was a better dancer. natch. HA! LOL but really, i was hanging back because i realized dancing wildly in the front didn't make any sense. plus, the boat was moving. and i had already had a slight bit of motion sickness. and i'd already had enough difficulty dancing in sand that moved under my feet - dancing on a slightly bucking boat was not one of my fave ideas. after much coaxing and cajoling on their part, i was persuaded to join in the madness - provided i could hold onto one or both available railings.

and after all that wildness, all the smiles, the spilled booze, the food, the bad dancing, what happens with the actors? our tour guide, and boat crew? they finish smiling and shucking and jiving [and ogling when they score on with a "bess ting" or two on the trip]... and they have to clean and put away and refuel and lock up.

they had to spend the day finding fun wherever possible. being hospitable. being aloof or telling outright lies. whatever necessary to hold onto a bit of themselves after spending the day with yet another group of strangers. i wonder how that affects their non-acting life. if everyone is an ends to a means, everyone represents a $, then how do you relate to the more permanent fixtures in your life? is it always shucking and jiving? and how do you not feel hurt when yet another 6 hour friend flies away at the end of the day?

is it a bit like selling yourself for a price? i guess you learn not to be so honest so that what you sell is a different picture, a different caracture, every time - and NOT your self. i would imagine that could get quite tiresome. that's probably why when i go back and see people i've "known" previously, they're so happy to see me. because i'm not a stereotypical white tourist who's here-today-gone-tomorrow. it might also be because i'm not a stereotypical white tourist - so they can do a little less shucking and jiving.

more on this later...
or not...