Today is the 23rd, which marks exactly one month since my arrival, and two weeks since my last blog post (sorry). Little did I know in my last entry that the busyness I anticipated with 'Rex Week' would continue with increasing measures. I was hit with a swift reality check at the beginning of last week when I realized that despite the fact that I am in care-free Jamaica, I still have a presentation and two papers due at the beginning of March, and, OH SHOOT, March is really close! I think I've recovered, but sadly, getting down to business and avoiding procrastination is just as hard (correction: probably harder) in a different, and exciting environment. (And admittedly, this entry is motivated by both guilt that I haven't posted in a long time, but also by an attempt to avoid the paper which awaits me after I finish this.)
I've decided that instead of trying to relay every experience and adventure of the past two weeks, I will spare you the boring details and let you in on some specific stories and thoughts which have occurred along the way. Even this seems like a lofty task, as I find myself wondering where to begin?
Okay.
I have my answer down committed to memory. Usually I can sense it coming. I'll meet someone for the first time, and when we reach that lull in conversation, it seems the instinctual question is then to ask, "Of all places, why the heck did you choose Jamaica?" And I hate that question. I've never had a clear sense of why Jamaica tugged at my heart, and the longer I'm here and the more I feel like an oddball in this place, the further away I feel from being able to answer that question. But I have to say something. And so I usually mumble something about studying development, and about how I wanted to learn from both my classes and the environment in which I was living... blah, blah, blah. One of my flatmates asked me a funny question the other day after she overheard me giving that answer (probably for the 4th or 5th time). She looked at me with her forehead crinkled and said, "So, are we objects in your study?" WOA! Without knowing Kim, you would think this to be a very aggressive and judgmental question, and I was, obviously, a little taken aback. But she asked it lovingly and earnestly, and after I giggled a little, I told her that I wasn't studying her anymore than she was studying me.
Now when I answer the question, I try to do it with a little more tact. Unfortunately, it still flusters me every time, so I don't think I've become any more eloquent with my response.
But it's forced me to ask myself if I'm really doing this. Am I really taking everything that I can from my classes, but also from the place where I'm at? And while I don't think that I will really be able to answer that question until long after this semester is over (if ever), I've still tried to evaluate it. Automatically I think about my Caribbean Culture class- a class that, in only the 5th week, has already afforded me so many insights and opportunities into this country. The class is based largely around field trips and guest lecturers, and our only assignment (besides the final exam) is to write a (hefty) paper on one of these experiences. I've heard about Rastafari beliefs from a practicing Rastafari (who I later saw on the local Jamaican TV show "Religious Hard Talk"); about the history and evolution of music in Jamaica from the director of performing arts at the university; and about the ins and outs of the Jamaican music industry from a member of a reggae group, VoiceMail.
It is thanks to this class that I found myself in Tivoli, a decidedly lower-income area than Mona is (where the campus is located), between the hours of 2-7:30 in the morning, dancing as the sun came up. I'm still not really sure what to make of Passa Passa, but I will say that it was a place where I felt completely welcome. There were so many people from such diverse walks of life, and yet here, in this so-called "ghetto", we all coexisted so peacefully.
Passa Passa, around 4 o'clock in the morning.
Sun's coming up. 
And we made some friends along the way.
It also thanks to this class that I spent Friday, travelling by bus, to Trelawny, a parish between Ocho Rios and Montego Bay for something called Outameni. We stopped on the way there to buy some food at a restaurant, and I, feeling both tired and a little bus-sick, wasn't all that hungry. I saw other people buying what looked like chicken noodle soup, and thought that instead of blowing the bank on Jerk Chicken, I would opt for a cheaper, and easier on my stomach option. Jessica, kept asking me, "What kind of soup is it? Shouldn't you ask what kind of soup it is?" And I kept saying, "Why? They tell me it's chicken. It looks appealing." So I went ahead and ordered it. When they ran out of disposable bowls, and I found myself waiting and watching other people get delicious looking chicken and rice, I knew I should be changing my order. But I didn't. And finally, when they put my soup into two hot cups, I realized that what I thought were noodles, were actually CHICKEN FEET.
Chicken foot stew.
Gross, gross, gross, gross. I couldn't handle it. I tried transferring the feet from one cup to another, in an attempt to still eat the broth, but that was too much. Yuck! I managed to take a photo, because I needed to get something out of this disgusting lunch. Needless to say, from now on, I will always opt for the Jerk Chicken.
On Saturday, I went back toward Ochi with my flatmates to spend the day at Dunn's River Falls. This day was especially lovely, not only for the chance to climb a waterfall (however safety proofed and tourist friendly), but because I was able to experience this very touristy attraction without feeling like a tourist. Allison, you are a tourist. I know, I know- I guess I still am. But, not only did my flatmates get me in for the Jamaican price (there are different prices for tourists and for Jamaican residents), but for one of the first times since being here, I felt like a member of their community, and not simply the foreign exchange student.
I am leaving you with one final thought, which had particular weight today.
Of the many ways that being white has affected (often frustratingly) my reality here, it has given me a certain ability to be recognized around campus. Today, for some reason, I noticed it especially. People I've never seen before know my name, and will say hello, and even people who don't know my name feel compelled to introduce themselves. I feel bad sometimes, like I've forgotten meeting someone. But for the most part, I have met some really wonderful and loving people just by way of their friendliness.
So I am beginning to see that everyday I've spent here has been filled with blessings. Today their names were Fursan, Malesha and ‘Ro.
Much, much love.
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