Dining and Wining

Saturday night in Crown Point. In the north, nightlife is a simple affair: diving stories told over dinner at the hotel, and a moonlight stroll on the beach. But in Crown Point, there is nightlife, and a handful of new Tobagonian friends decide to take me out for one last fete at the Golden Star dance hall.

Music and people spill from a complex that looks to be a converted warehouse, onto an open-air patio and into a small yard. The place is a sweaty, writhing mass of dancers jumping up and wining, practicing the suggestive, pelvis-gyrating Carnival dance. Wining is something of a local art form, and encouraged to give it a try, I cut loose with moves that would be downright scandalous back home in Georgia. Here, they elicit only amused laughter. That’s OK. Back at Mt. Irvine Wall, I know there’s a party where my shuffle is considered just fine.