IT is 4 a.m. the Sunday before Carnival and I'm at a Chutney Soca fête in San Fernando, Trinidad's second city. The "fête" is really a stage show with performances from all the latest music stars in the scene, and the crowd is a mixture of young people of Indian and African descent. But there's plenty of Indian food on offer too, and the beer, whisky and rum is also flowing. The atmosphere is loud and raucous, the walls of speakers pumping out the distinctly Afro-Caribbean rhythms of Soca, a music form born from its predecessor, Calypso, right here in Trinidad.

But tonight it's all about Chutney. The Soca is infused with elements of dholak and dhantal, the drum machines accompanied by occasional tabla, and samples of Filmi singers such as Kumar Sanu and Lata Mangeshkar over the fast beats receive widespread cries of delight from the audience. Artists arrive on stage one after another, often rapping, or singing Caribbean English patois lyrics in distinctly Indian voice and style. Indo-Trinidadian dance troops perform too, combining Bollywood moves with suggestive Caribbean "wining" — and the audience have plenty of moves of their own, dancing and letting their hair down.

Party time

I was told before I arrived here that Carnival is a three-day affair, but little did I know how much this is a party nation, and what that really means to its inhabitants. Trinidad's culture and history is inextricably woven together by Carnival, which begins as the New Year's clock strikes 12 and culminates in four days of non-stop music and dance in February, in the streets of the capital Port of Spain. As if this wasn't enough to satisfy even the most vivacious appetite for celebration, Christmas time begins with hearty festive fervour in September, and the Hindu festivals of Deepavali and Phagwa and Muslim Eid tend to be celebrated by all, including school children of all faiths.

The remainder of the year is punctuated by a large number of national holidays including Independence and Emancipation Days, Indian Arrival Day, an Amerindian festival, as well as yachting, steel band and oral tradition weeks. Add cricket and football to this and, well, you begin to get the picture. The party for the Cricket World Cup would undoubtedly be in full swing already if it wasn't for the overriding importance of Carnival coming first.

Trinidad really is a rainbow nation as well as model of race relations, a clear exception in today's polarised world. There are even a number of places in Trinidad where Hindus, Christians and Muslims worship in the same premises, and intermarriage between people of African, European, Indian and Chinese descent is just seen as normal. The significance of Chutney as an art form of Indian origin is celebrated by others, but the fact that ethnic groups have been able to keep traditions such as this alive, while integrating with others at their own pace has created an harmonious street life — in racial terms at least. There is even a well-known Trinidadian sitarist, Mungal Patasar, who plays a popular mix of Indian and jazz music together with steelpan — the Trinidadian national instrument born from poor African areas, and the only instrument known to have been invented in the 20th Century.

The first Indians arrived as indentured labourers to work on the sugar estates that the newly freed African slaves were abandoning in droves after 1834. Mainly from Kolkata, by 1917 there were around 1,45,000 Indians working in Trinidad — though today there's around 7,00,000 people of Indian origin. The island was originally colonised by the Spanish, but it was the French planters arriving in the late 18th century who brought in slaves in far greater numbers and under whom the economy began to flourish, albeit at great human cost. They also brought Mardi Gras with them, the "parting of the flesh" before Lent, which, together with strong African influences, eventually morphed into today's wild Carnival, now one of the world's biggest parties and costume masquerades.

The British took over as rulers in 1797, and did their best to put a stop to such carnality and contravention of their traditional social fabric. In 1843 it was decreed Carnival could not begin until Monday morning; the Trinis responded by starting an even more raucous celebration at exactly midnight, known forevermore as "Jouvert" (pronounced "jouvay") from the French Jour Overt. Three years later the authorities tried to ban masks, antagonising the French creoles and causing them to bond further with the Africans. British sailors began to be satirised in huge "sailor-masquerade bands", which you still find on the streets at Carnival today.

Impressive growth

But Trinidad really is much more than just a party — in balance the twin-island State (with Tobago) has the economic growth rate of China and exceptionally low unemployment, together with a stunning natural environment. Though placed within the "developing" category, T&T is widely seen as having a realistic plan to lift itself out by 2020, largely due to it's extensive oil and gas reserves and it's small population (1.4 million) — though the dynamism of T&T's tourism sector and its creative energies in music and design should not be underestimated. The country certainly does have issues around crime and instability, associated with a large wealth gap and its geographic position as one of many drug transit points but outside of a few areas the country is for the most part safe and crime free.

Easy going

Nonetheless, to many outsiders, the Caribbean as a whole remains inordinately laid back and easy going, and Trinidad is no exception. Even in the most difficult times, people find humour and opportunity, a fact illustrated by the country's one and only experience of a coup — in 1990, a small group of Islamic extremists overthrew the government, until loyal troops ousted them six days later. One of the group's more popular declarations was that drivers could now use the country's bus routes, which people did in abundance while they knew they could. As a curfew came into force across the country, wild and memorable "coup parties" were held across the country.

Even those in privileged positions are seen "liming" (the Trini word for socialising, pronounced lime-ing) with locals, especially at Carnival and big sporting events. I have frequently seen cricket legend Brian Lara walking around, including in Carnival costume and I even caught the Prime Minister's wife having a chat with friends on the road.

Indian cricket lovers coming to Trinidad may be surprised to be served roti with curried mango, channa and dhal — but not quite like they've had it before. And above all, they can expect a great party at the end of each day's play, as well as an overwhelmingly friendly atmosphere — as long as they're prepared to lime.

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