Agricultural, Cropland and Pasture Areas, Southwest Trinidad

[Karl Ramjohn]

Agricultural Village, Cropland and Pasture Areas, Otaheite / Rousillac Southwest Trinidad

The images presented here are primarily in the Otaheite Estate, Berridge Trace and Mon Desir Road areas between Otaheite and Rousillac in Southwest Trinidad. This land-use/land-cover classification is used here to describe the predominantly low-lying flat to gently undulating grasslands and cultivated areas with seasonally marshy pastureland along minor roads (with low-density linear/clustered village settlement) backed by semi-continuous patches of (native and cultivated) trees.

The agricultural and pastureland areas are generally found along secondary roads and minor traces west of the Fyzabad Road and south of the Southern Main Road, and appear to be sparsely populated with low-density linear/clustered village settlements. The surroundings of these sites (further from the roads and traces) are usually backed by semi-continuous patches of native and cultivated trees. Many of the pasture plots have been demarcated using Teak (Tectona grandis) posts, some of which have grown into sizeable trees. Manickchan (2005) noted these villages comprise old communities developed from East Indian indentured labourer settlements traditionally associated with Cocoa (Theobroma cacao) and other crops. However, with the passage of time, these areas have developed a variety of residential, commercial and community-level institutional functions co-existent with their wider landscape of active/semi-active agriculture intermixed with remnant patches of seasonal forest.

The health and ecosystem function of agricultural/pastureland area will depend on all components of its ecological character: physical (climate/soils), biological – vegetation (crops, weeds, other plants) and fauna (pests, beneficial insects, livestock and wildlife species associated with semi-open areas), human inputs (labour, energy, water, chemicals) and overall interactions. In a spatial and ecological sense, the dominant biotic component of the agricultural and pasture land is coarse perennial grasses, mainly Bull Grass (Paspalum fasciculatum). The trees at the edges of these areas consist of cultivated fruit trees such as Coconut (Cocos nucifera) and Mango (Mangifera indica) together with indigenous trees more indicative of natural vegetation such as Hog Plum (Spondias mombin), Water Immortelle (Erythrina fusca) and Silk Cotton (Ceiba pentandra). Several species of palms were also observed in these areas mainly Royal Palm (Roystonea oleracea) as well as Roseau (Bactris major), Attalea butyracea and Camwell (Desmoncus orthacanthros). A few timber trees such as Pink Poui (Tabebuia rosea) and Teak (Tectona grandis) are also planted in these areas.

[Karl Ramjohn]

OTAHEITE ESTATE

All photographs by Karl Ramjohn, August 2006

[Fulucy913]

The wolf has a winning game when the shepherds quarrel.

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[yuio794o]

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[Reuo0186]

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[uuuio830]

Bump up then lurk
CHAPTER XVIII

　　Countess Rostova, with her daughters and a large number of guests, was already seated in the drawing room. The count took the gentlemen into his study and showed them his choice collection of Turkish pipes. From time to time he went out to ask: "Hasn't she come yet?" They were expecting Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova, known in society as le terrible dragon, a lady distinguished not for wealth or rank, but for common sense and frank plainness of speech. Marya Dmitrievna was known to the Imperial family as well as to all Moscow and Petersburg, and both cities wondered at her, laughed privately at her rudenesses, and told good stories about her, while none the less all without exception respected and feared her.
　　In the count's room, which was full of tobacco smoke, they talked of war that had been announced in a manifesto, and about the recruiting. None of them had yet seen the manifesto, but they all knew it had appeared. The count sat on the sofa between two guests who were smoking and talking. He neither smoked nor talked, but bending his head first to one side and then to the other watched the smokers with evident pleasure and listened to the conversation of his two neighbors, whom he egged on against each other.
　　One of them was a sallow, clean-shaven civilian with a thin and wrinkled face, already growing old, though he was dressed like a most fashionable young man. He sat with his legs up on the sofa as if quite at home and, having stuck an amber mouthpiece far into his mouth, was inhaling the smoke spasmodically and screwing up his eyes. This was an old bachelor, Shinshin, a cousin of the countess', a man with "a sharp tongue" as they said in Moscow society. He seemed to be condescending to his companion. The latter, a fresh, rosy officer of the Guards, irreproachably washed, brushed, and buttoned, held his pipe in the middle of his mouth and with red lips gently inhaled the smoke, letting it escape from his handsome mouth in rings. This was Lieutenant Berg, an officer in the Semenov regiment with whom Boris was to travel to join the army, and about whom Natasha had, teased her elder sister Vera, speaking of Berg as her "intended." The count sat between them and listened attentively. His favorite occupation when not playing boston, a card game he was very fond of, was that of listener, especially when he succeeded in setting two loquacious talkers at one another.
　　"Well, then, old chap, mon tres honorable Alphonse Karlovich," said Shinshin, laughing ironically and mixing the most ordinary Russian expressions with the choicest French phrases- which was a peculiarity of his speech. "Vous comptez vous faire des rentes sur l'etat;* you want to make something out of your company?"
　　*You expect to make an income out of the government.
　　"No, Peter Nikolaevich; I only want to show that in the cavalry the advantages are far less than in the infantry. Just consider my own position now, Peter Nikolaevich..."
　　Berg always spoke quietly, politely, and with great precision. His conversation always related entirely to himself; he would remain calm and silent when the talk related to any topic that had no direct bearing on himself. He could remain silent for hours without being at all put out of countenance himself or making others uncomfortable, but as soon as the conversation concerned himself he would begin to talk circumstantially and with evident satisfaction.
　　"Consider my position, Peter Nikolaevich. Were I in the cavalry I should get not more than two hundred rubles every four months, even with the rank of lieutenant; but as it is I receive two hundred and thirty," said he, looking at Shinshin and the count with a joyful, pleasant smile, as if it were obvious to him that his success must always be the chief desire of everyone else.
　　"Besides that, Peter Nikolaevich, by exchanging into the Guards I shall be in a more prominent position," continued Berg, "and vacancies occur much more frequently in the Foot Guards. Then just think what can be done with two hundred and thirty rubles! I even manage to put a little aside and to send something to my father," he went on, emitting a smoke ring.
　　"La balance y est...* A German knows how to skin a flint, as the proverb says," remarked Shinshin, moving his pipe to the other side of his mouth and winking at the count.
　　*So that squares matters.
　　The count burst out laughing. The other guests seeing that Shinshin was talking came up to listen. Berg, oblivious of irony or indifference, continued to explain how by exchanging into the Guards he had already gained a step on his old comrades of the Cadet Corps; how in wartime the company commander might get killed and he, as senior in the company, might easily succeed to the post; how popular he was with everyone in the regiment, and how satisfied his father was with him. Berg evidently enjoyed narrating all this, and did not seem to suspect that others, too, might have their own interests. But all he said was so prettily sedate, and the naivete of his youthful egotism was so obvious, that he disarmed his hearers.
　　"Well, my boy, you'll get along wherever you go- foot or horse- that I'll warrant," said Shinshin, patting him on the shoulder and taking his feet off the sofa.
　　Berg smiled joyously. The count, by his guests, went into the drawing room.
　　It was just the moment before a big dinner when the assembled guests, expecting the summons to zakuska,* avoid engaging in any long conversation but think it necessary to move about and talk, in order to show that they are not at all impatient for their food. The host and hostess look toward the door, and now and then glance at one another, and the visitors try to guess from these glances who, or what, they are waiting for- some important relation who has not yet arrived, or a dish that is not yet ready.
　　*Hors d'oeuvres.
　　Pierre had come just at dinnertime and was sitting awkwardly in the middle of the drawing room on the first chair he had come across, blocking the way for everyone. The countess tried to make him talk, but he went on naively looking around through his spectacles as if in search of somebody and answered all her questions in monosyllables. He was in the way and was the only one who did not notice the fact. Most of the guests, knowing of the affair with the bear, looked with curiosity at this big, stout, quiet man, wondering how such a clumsy, modest fellow could have played such a prank on a policeman.
　　"You have only lately arrived?" the countess asked him.
　　"Oui, madame," replied he, looking around him.
　　"You have not yet seen my husband?"
　　"Non, madame." He smiled quite inappropriately.
　　"You have been in Paris recently, I believe? I suppose it's very interesting."
　　"Very interesting."
　　The countess exchanged glances with Anna Mikhaylovna. The latter understood that she was being asked to entertain this young man, and sitting down beside him she began to speak about his father; but he answered her, as he had the countess, only in monosyllables. The other guests were all conversing with one another. "The Razumovskis... It was charming... You are very kind... Countess Apraksina..." was heard on all sides. The countess rose and went into the ballroom.
　　"Marya Dmitrievna?" came her voice from there.
　　"Herself," came the answer in a rough voice, and Marya Dmitrievna entered the room.
　　All the unmarried ladies and even the married ones except the very oldest rose. Marya Dmitrievna paused at the door. Tall and stout, holding high her fifty-year-old head with its gray curls, she stood surveying the guests, and leisurely arranged her wide sleeves as if rolling them up. Marya Dmitrievna always spoke in Russian.
　　"Health and happiness to her whose name day we are keeping and to her children," she said, in her loud, full-toned voice which drowned all others. "Well, you old sinner," she went on, turning to the count who was kissing her hand, "you're feeling dull in Moscow, I daresay? Nowhere to hunt with your dogs? But what is to be done, old man? Just see how these nestlings are growing up," and she pointed to the girls. "You must look for husbands for them whether you like it or not...."
　　Well," said she, "how's my Cossack?" (Marya Dmitrievna always called Natasha a Cossack) and she stroked the child's arm as she came up fearless and gay to kiss her hand. "I know she's a scamp of a girl, but I like her."
　　She took a pair of pear-shaped ruby earrings from her huge reticule and, having given them to the rosy Natasha, who beamed with the pleasure of her saint's-day fete, turned away at once and addressed herself to Pierre.
　　"Eh, eh, friend! Come here a bit," said she, assuming a soft high tone of voice. "Come here, my friend..." and she ominously tucked up her sleeves still higher. Pierre approached, looking at her in a childlike way through his spectacles.
　　"Come nearer, come nearer, friend! I used to be the only one to tell your father the truth when he was in favor, and in your case it's my evident duty." She paused. All were silent, expectant of what was to follow, for this was dearly only a prelude.
　　"A fine lad! My word! A fine lad!... His father lies on his deathbed and he amuses himself setting a policeman astride a bear! For shame, sir, for shame! It would be better if you went to the war."
　　She turned away and gave her hand to the count, who could hardly keep from laughing.
　　"Well, I suppose it is time we were at table?" said Marya Dmitrievna.
　　The count went in first with Marya Dmitrievna, the countess followed on the arm of a colonel of hussars, a man of importance to them because Nicholas was to go with him to the regiment; then came Anna Mikhaylovna with Shinshin. Berg gave his arm to Vera. The smiling Julie Karagina went in with Nicholas. After them other couples followed, filling the whole dining hall, and last of all the children, tutors, and governesses followed singly. The footmen began moving about, chairs scraped, the band struck up in the gallery, and the guests settled down in their places. Then the strains of the count's household band were replaced by the clatter of knives and forks, the voices of visitors, and the soft steps of the footmen. At one end of the table sat the countess with Marya Dmitrievna on her right and Anna Mikhaylovna on her left, the other lady visitors were farther down. At the other end sat the count, with the hussar colonel on his left and Shinshin and the other male visitors on his right. Midway down the long table on one side sat the grownup young people: Vera beside Berg, and Pierre beside Boris; and on the other side, the children, tutors, and governesses. From behind the crystal decanters and fruit vases the count kept glancing at his wife and her tall cap with its light-blue ribbons, and busily filled his neighbors' glasses, not neglecting his own. The countess in turn, without omitting her duties as hostess, threw significant glances from behind the pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by their redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair. At the ladies' end an even chatter of voices was heard all the time, at the men's end the voices sounded louder and louder, especially that of the colonel of hussars who, growing more and more flushed, ate and drank so much that the count held him up as a pattern to the other guests. Berg with tender smiles was saying to Vera that love is not an earthly but a heavenly feeling. Boris was telling his new friend Pierre who the guests were and exchanging glances with Natasha, who was sitting opposite. Pierre spoke little but examined the new faces, and ate a great deal. Of the two soups he chose turtle with savory patties and went on to the game without omitting a single dish or one of the wines. These latter the butler thrust mysteriously forward, wrapped in a napkin, from behind the next man's shoulders and whispered: "Dry Madeira"... "Hungarian"... or "Rhine wine" as the case might be. Of the four crystal glasses engraved with the count's monogram that stood before his plate, Pierre held out one at random and drank with enjoyment, gazing with ever-increasing amiability at the other guests. Natasha, who sat opposite, was looking at Boris as girls of thirteen look at the boy they are in love with and have just kissed for the first time. Sometimes that same look fell on Pierre, and that funny lively little girl's look made him inclined to laugh without knowing why.
　　Nicholas sat at some distance from Sonya, beside Julie Karagina, to whom he was again talking with the same involuntary smile. Sonya wore a company smile but was evidently tormented by jealousy; now she turned pale, now blushed and strained every nerve to overhear what Nicholas and Julie were saying to one another. The governess kept looking round uneasily as if preparing to resent any slight that might be put upon the children. The German tutor was trying to remember all the dishes, wines, and kinds of dessert, in order to send a full description of the dinner to his people in Germany; and he felt greatly offended when the butler with a bottle wrapped in a napkin passed him by. He frowned, trying to appear as if he did not want any of that wine, but was mortified because no one would understand that it was not to quench his thirst or from greediness that he wanted it, but simply from a conscientious desire for knowledge.



2009

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[Gikoou3289]

I'm going to bump the thread

PRETTY WOMAN
PART 10

INT. HOTEL LOBBY - DAY
Mr. Thomas looks up from the desk. And stares. Vivian and a
BELLHOP stroll through the hotel entrance and across the hotel
lobby to the elevator. The bellhop's arms are packed with boxes
and shopping bags. Mr. Thomas can't help it. He smiles to
himself.
INT. PENTHOUSE LIVING ROOM - DAY
Vivian opens the front door for the Bellhop who carries in her
packages. She motions for him to place them on the couch. He
does. Vivian happily tips him with a five dollar bill. He
exits. The door closes.
VIVIAN
Wheee!!!
Vivian does a giddy spin and falls onto the couch.
INT. BROKERAGE HOUSE MEETING ROOM - DAY
Stuckey enters. Edward is standing at the end of a long
meeting table. He is serving himself coffee from a tray.
STUCKEY
(gloating)
You were right. Kross mortgaged
everything he has down to his
grandson's college tuition to
secure loans from a bank. Not
just any bank. One we do business
with.
Edward just sips his coffee.
STUCKEY (cont'd)
It goes without saying that your
business means a great deal more
to them than our friend Kross's.
(a beat)
All you have to do is make a call.
Edward is silent. Stuckey is again surprised.
STUCKEY
Excuse me for saying this but what
is wrong with you this week?
First, you go soft on the pension
funds. Now, you're giving him
the chance to get away? As of
two minutes ago, you are committed
to the tune of over fifty million
dollars --
EDWARD
Come on, Bill, don't talk to me
about how much money's involved.
It's my money.
STUCKEY
And some of it's mine. Edward,
his jugular's exposed.
Edward hesitates. Then:
EDWARD
Get the bank on the phone for me.
INT. PENTHOUSE - EVENING
Edward enters. He closes the door. He turns. And stops. A
beautiful, candlelit, food laden table has been set up in the
middle of the room. Champagne and wine chills in a bucket.
A fire burns in the fireplace. Music is playing.
VIVIAN (O.S.)
Hi.
Edward turns. And stares again. Vivian stands in the bedroom
doorway. She is wearing an exquisite silk dressing gown. She
looks incredibly beautiful.
VIVIAN
I thought maybe you'd like dinner.
EDWARD
Thank you. I would.
(he fingers her dressing
gown)
Nice.
VIVIAN
Wait till you see what I have
on underneath.
EDWARD
Please.
She opens the dressing gown. What she has on underneath is
absolutely nothing. Edward crosses to her. Taking her in his
arms, he lifts her up and kisses her breasts.
VIVIAN
What about dinner?
EDWARD
Dinner can wait.
INT. PENTHOUSE BATHROOM - NIGHT
The bathroom is lit by candles. Vivian and Edward are in the
marble tub. Vivian sits behind Edward. She lazily washes his
shoulders and back with a large sponge.
VIVIAN
You always been rich?
EDWARD
No.
VIVIAN
Seems like it. I guess it's easy
to get used to, huh?
EDWARD
Easier than learning how to be poor.
(a moment; and then:)
My father's family was wealthy.
When I was young there were cars
and houses, private schools,
nannies. But then my father
divorced my mother to marry
another woman. And he took his
money with him.
Silence.
VIVIAN
Keep talkin'. I like hearin'.
EDWARD
Not much to tell. I went to
public school. Went to
university on scholarship. Went
to work for an investment firm.
In eight years I owned it.
(and then; growing very
quiet)
My father was chairman of the
board of the third company I ever
went after. I swallowed that
company and shit out the pieces.
One of the pieces was him.
Vivian softly traces small patterns on Edward's shoulders with
a finger.
VIVIAN
You still mad at'm?
EDWARD
He died a long time ago.
She gently rests her head on his back.
EXT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY
PANNING BELLIES People are sunbathing by the pool.
Overweight... lobster red... old and stretch-marked... fishy
white... and then gorgeous. The gorgeous is Vivian. She is
wearing a miniscule bikini and sunglasses.
WAITER (O.S.)
Miss Vivian?
She looks up. A young WAITER, looking a little dry-mouthed at
the sight of her, is holding a telephone.
WAITER
You have a call. Mr. Harris.
VIVIAN
(taking the phone)
Hi, baby.
(a moment)
I'll be ready. Bye.
She hangs up. She looks at the Waiter, confused.
VIVIAN
What do you wear to polo?
EXT. THE LOS ANGELES EQUESTRIAN CENTER - LATE AFTERNOON
Horses and riders crash and careen on the playing field. An
enthusiastic crowd cheers.
DOWN OFF THE EDGE OF THE FIELD
a tailgate party using Cadillacs and Rolls Royces is in
progress. Horses and riders thunder by a crowd of very
well-dressed, successful-looking people -- celebrities, execs,
socialites, aficionados -- most of whom ignore the game. They
are there to see and be seen much more than to watch a polo
match.
EXT. EQUESTRIAN CENTER - LATER AFTERNOON
Vivian and Edward make their way towards the party. Edward is
wearing his new tie. Vivian is looking very chic and beautiful
in one of her new outfits. Not that it's helping -- the place,
the people, the wealth -- everything here suddenly has her
overwhelmed. She suddenly stops.
VIVIAN
You're really pushing it,
bringing me here.
EDWARD
I think it's exciting.
VIVIAN
What id we run into someone I
know?
EDWARD
I really doubt anyone here
frequents Hollywood Boulevard.
VIVIAN
You did.
A VOICE calls out.
STUCKEY (O.S.)
Edward!
They turn. William Stuckey is with a group of people. He waves
them over.
STUCKEY (cont'd)
Come on! Over here!
Edward takes Vivian's arm and leads her forward.
EXT. EQUESTRIAN CENTER - LATE AFTERNOON
Stuckey grins and shakes Edward's hand.
STUCKEY
(looking at Vivian)
Well, well, well...
Vivian dislikes this guy on sight. Dislikes the frosty looking
woman at his side.
EDWARD
Bill, I'd like you to meet Vivian.
STUCKEY
(holding out a hand; smiling)
Bill Stuckey, Vivian. My wife,
Elizabeth.
VIVIAN
Hi.
Elizabeth Stuckey stretches her thin lips in a col smile.
STUCKEY
Lots of fun people here. Let me
get you two some champagne.
He moves quickly away.
ELIZABETH STUCKEY
Excuse me.
She moves to greet someone else. Vivian and Edward survey the
milling CROWD.
VIVIAN
(sarcastic)
Real genuine guy.
EDWARD
He's good at what he does.
VIVIAN
You could freeze ice on his wife's
ass. She anything like your ex?
EDWARD
(a small smile)
Shall we mingle?
EXT. EQUESTRIAN CENTER - ON THE FIELD - LATE AFTERNOON
A goal is scored.
IN A SERIES OF CUTS
Edward watches and guides her, Vivian sips champagne and meets
and chats and wins over different PEOPLE.
EXT. EQUESTRIAN CENTER - ANOTHER ANGLE - LATE AFTERNOON
A group of PEOPLE.
WOMAN
I simply love your dress, Vivian.
VIVIAN
This old thing?
WOMAN
Of course, a figure like yours
can wear anything. You must work
out constantly.
VIVIAN
I lead a very physical life.
OLDER MAN
Are you into running, Vivian?
VIVIAN
I'm into walking. I walk a lot.

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