"For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible." - from Alice in Wonderland
It's been hard not to feel a little like Alice in Wonderland these past few weeks. I look at the date of my last post, and I am in disbelief that it has been, yet again, almost a month since I wrote. The time has been full of both school work (two weeks ago, for the first time in my life, I spent the night at the library- what a strange experience), but of adventure as well.
I'm not sure what triggered this explosion of travel, but it feels like I've been able to see a lot of the country lately (it is, after all, a fairly small island). In the 1980s, when Jamaica was forced to undergo a series of structural adjustment measures, their public transportation system, among other social programs, took a severe beating. Unemployment, combined with the continued need for scrapped services, gave way to a thriving informal economy (not that it didn't exist before structural adjustment, but it is certainly more pronounced now). No where is this more evident than in transportation services. For this reason, taking advantage of both regulated and unregulated route taxis and buses, I have found it unbelievably easy, and cheap, to get around.
The International Students Office offered to plan a trip for us exchange students. Thinking that it would be overnight, we all suggested Negril. Much to our disappointment, we learned that it was only to be a day trip. A little unsure about driving all the way to Negril and home in one day (since it is pretty much the Western most point on the island, it's the furthest trip you can make from Kingston), I knew it would still be better than spending the day in the library. And so I went, and it turned out to be such a good decision.
Although we did some sight seeing in Negril, we didn't get to a beach until almost 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Around 5 o'clock, as Jessica had just sat down to a bunch of food, and I was about to order a Red Stripe, someone from the group came over and told us to start packing up, we were leaving. Assuming I would just have to suck it up, I stopped thinking about how good a cold beer would taste at that moment, and began to think about leaving. But Claire, another exchange student from Toronto, would not have it, and began convincing Jessica and I to stay behind. Jessica wasn't hard to persuade. I was a little more hesitant. We had no place to stay, no clue how to get home (I had not yet discovered the joys of the bus system), and only a little bit of money which was draining much quicker in touristy Negril. But soon the middle-aged women at the bar beside us joined in our debate, reminiscing about their college days, and reminding me that you only live once. So I caved.
Somehow we convinced the rest of the group to leave us behind. (Understandably, they weren't too pleased.)
And quicker than I could say "Red Stripe," I had one in my hand, courtesy of Sandra and Lisa, the women from the bar. Haha! As much as I was still feeling uneasy about our decision, I was past the point of return, and could not do anything except make the most of it.
Following a sunset spent swimming in the ocean, we knew we needed to find a place to sleep. And it was Sandra and Lisa to the rescue again. Not only were they staying at the Tree House Hotel, a mere two steps down the beach, but Lisa also knew the owner, and said she would try to find us a deal. We met up with her later after she had found us a room. We kept asking, "So, how much is it going to cost?" And she kept saying, "Just let me show you the room, and I'll tell you how much it is." So we were all preparing ourselves for her to show us this amazing room, tell us it was wayyyyy over our budget, but that we should do it anyway, because you only live once. She did show us an amazing room. But when we asked, again, for the price, she replied (and this is my favourite part of the story), "It's covered."
It's covered?
Then came the squealing, hugging and jumping you would expect out of three broke university students who had just been told they were being given free accommodations at a beautiful hotel. The only conditions were a) we had to remain dedicated to our studies, and b) we each had to pass on a favour like this to someone else one day. No problem (mon).
We all slept in that king size bed, but were up and swimming for the sunrise the next morning. The free room came with access to the hot tub, which we indulged in after sunrise, AND, and complimentary breakfast, which we milked for all it was worth (I think the waitresses must have thought we were starving). It was like a dream.
Oh dear, I've spent way too long talking about Negril. I think because that trip was a blessing which signifies a huge turning point for me. I returned to Kingston after that weekend, of course a bit sad to be separated again from the beach, but with a totally new perspective. I noticed myself walking much slower around campus, finding myself late for all of my classes, and decidedly less concerned about all the school work which was looming in front of me. I think for the first time, I accepted this trip for what it was, and not what I was expecting it to be. And in accepting that, I was reacquainted with that feeling that I had before I left- that anything is possible.
I spent this past Easter weekend with a group of exchange students in the parish of Portland, the Eastern most point of Jamaica. This is my favourite part of the island so far. Kingston, while definitely not touristy, has a certain edge and hardness to it. The big places in Western Jamaica- Ocho Rios, Montego Bay, Negril- are a world away from Kingston’s aggression, but can begin to reek of tourism and materialism. But Portland, while embodying a bit of all of these places, feels very rootsy and genuine. I escaped dancehall, and finally found some reggae.
We stayed at a basic guesthouse in Port Antonio, a town where we, as a group of obvious foreigners, soon became recognized and familiar. From there, we took route taxis around the surrounding area. From Winifred Beach on the first day, to Reach Falls and Blue Lagoon on the second, and finally Long Bay on the final day, we jam packed our weekend away with some of the most beautiful sights I have seen since being here.
Most notably, on Sunday morning, Claire and I got up to watch the sunrise in Jamaica once again. Just as the stars were disappearing, and the sky had turned to pink, something shot through the sky which, at first, I thought was a firework. I think we both did. But within seconds, as we were waiting for the ‘pop’ which follows a firework, we realized it was a shooting star- and certainly the most vibrant and incredible one that I have ever seen. It seemed like we were the only people awake amidst a sleeping city, and so it was hard not to feel like this display was a show that God put on specifically for us.
Again, I returned to Kingston refreshed, and filled with awe and thankfulness. Plus, I finally got the sunburn/tan that I have been chasing since getting here. Yesterday, when I was at the supermarket, a man in the checkout line started to speak to me in Spanish. I managed a, “No hablo Espanol,” to which he replied, “Oh, you don’t speak Spanish? I thought you were from Columbia.” Hahaha!
It's been hard not to feel a little like Alice in Wonderland these past few weeks. I look at the date of my last post, and I am in disbelief that it has been, yet again, almost a month since I wrote. The time has been full of both school work (two weeks ago, for the first time in my life, I spent the night at the library- what a strange experience), but of adventure as well.
I'm not sure what triggered this explosion of travel, but it feels like I've been able to see a lot of the country lately (it is, after all, a fairly small island). In the 1980s, when Jamaica was forced to undergo a series of structural adjustment measures, their public transportation system, among other social programs, took a severe beating. Unemployment, combined with the continued need for scrapped services, gave way to a thriving informal economy (not that it didn't exist before structural adjustment, but it is certainly more pronounced now). No where is this more evident than in transportation services. For this reason, taking advantage of both regulated and unregulated route taxis and buses, I have found it unbelievably easy, and cheap, to get around.
The International Students Office offered to plan a trip for us exchange students. Thinking that it would be overnight, we all suggested Negril. Much to our disappointment, we learned that it was only to be a day trip. A little unsure about driving all the way to Negril and home in one day (since it is pretty much the Western most point on the island, it's the furthest trip you can make from Kingston), I knew it would still be better than spending the day in the library. And so I went, and it turned out to be such a good decision.
Although we did some sight seeing in Negril, we didn't get to a beach until almost 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Around 5 o'clock, as Jessica had just sat down to a bunch of food, and I was about to order a Red Stripe, someone from the group came over and told us to start packing up, we were leaving. Assuming I would just have to suck it up, I stopped thinking about how good a cold beer would taste at that moment, and began to think about leaving. But Claire, another exchange student from Toronto, would not have it, and began convincing Jessica and I to stay behind. Jessica wasn't hard to persuade. I was a little more hesitant. We had no place to stay, no clue how to get home (I had not yet discovered the joys of the bus system), and only a little bit of money which was draining much quicker in touristy Negril. But soon the middle-aged women at the bar beside us joined in our debate, reminiscing about their college days, and reminding me that you only live once. So I caved.
Somehow we convinced the rest of the group to leave us behind. (Understandably, they weren't too pleased.)
And quicker than I could say "Red Stripe," I had one in my hand, courtesy of Sandra and Lisa, the women from the bar. Haha! As much as I was still feeling uneasy about our decision, I was past the point of return, and could not do anything except make the most of it.
Following a sunset spent swimming in the ocean, we knew we needed to find a place to sleep. And it was Sandra and Lisa to the rescue again. Not only were they staying at the Tree House Hotel, a mere two steps down the beach, but Lisa also knew the owner, and said she would try to find us a deal. We met up with her later after she had found us a room. We kept asking, "So, how much is it going to cost?" And she kept saying, "Just let me show you the room, and I'll tell you how much it is." So we were all preparing ourselves for her to show us this amazing room, tell us it was wayyyyy over our budget, but that we should do it anyway, because you only live once. She did show us an amazing room. But when we asked, again, for the price, she replied (and this is my favourite part of the story), "It's covered."
It's covered?
Then came the squealing, hugging and jumping you would expect out of three broke university students who had just been told they were being given free accommodations at a beautiful hotel. The only conditions were a) we had to remain dedicated to our studies, and b) we each had to pass on a favour like this to someone else one day. No problem (mon).
We all slept in that king size bed, but were up and swimming for the sunrise the next morning. The free room came with access to the hot tub, which we indulged in after sunrise, AND, and complimentary breakfast, which we milked for all it was worth (I think the waitresses must have thought we were starving). It was like a dream.
Oh dear, I've spent way too long talking about Negril. I think because that trip was a blessing which signifies a huge turning point for me. I returned to Kingston after that weekend, of course a bit sad to be separated again from the beach, but with a totally new perspective. I noticed myself walking much slower around campus, finding myself late for all of my classes, and decidedly less concerned about all the school work which was looming in front of me. I think for the first time, I accepted this trip for what it was, and not what I was expecting it to be. And in accepting that, I was reacquainted with that feeling that I had before I left- that anything is possible.
I spent this past Easter weekend with a group of exchange students in the parish of Portland, the Eastern most point of Jamaica. This is my favourite part of the island so far. Kingston, while definitely not touristy, has a certain edge and hardness to it. The big places in Western Jamaica- Ocho Rios, Montego Bay, Negril- are a world away from Kingston’s aggression, but can begin to reek of tourism and materialism. But Portland, while embodying a bit of all of these places, feels very rootsy and genuine. I escaped dancehall, and finally found some reggae.
We stayed at a basic guesthouse in Port Antonio, a town where we, as a group of obvious foreigners, soon became recognized and familiar. From there, we took route taxis around the surrounding area. From Winifred Beach on the first day, to Reach Falls and Blue Lagoon on the second, and finally Long Bay on the final day, we jam packed our weekend away with some of the most beautiful sights I have seen since being here.
Most notably, on Sunday morning, Claire and I got up to watch the sunrise in Jamaica once again. Just as the stars were disappearing, and the sky had turned to pink, something shot through the sky which, at first, I thought was a firework. I think we both did. But within seconds, as we were waiting for the ‘pop’ which follows a firework, we realized it was a shooting star- and certainly the most vibrant and incredible one that I have ever seen. It seemed like we were the only people awake amidst a sleeping city, and so it was hard not to feel like this display was a show that God put on specifically for us.
Again, I returned to Kingston refreshed, and filled with awe and thankfulness. Plus, I finally got the sunburn/tan that I have been chasing since getting here. Yesterday, when I was at the supermarket, a man in the checkout line started to speak to me in Spanish. I managed a, “No hablo Espanol,” to which he replied, “Oh, you don’t speak Spanish? I thought you were from Columbia.” Hahaha!
A number of my classes have ended, although some are still going strong. I handed in my last paper yesterday (phew!) and should begin now preparing for exams. I am really not looking forward to this, as all of my exams are worth 60% of my final grade, and I continue to hear horror stories of how intense they are. But, I’ve survived the “rigorous” work load thus far, and hope this trend continues. Plus, I am far too laid back to allow stress to creep back in- I hope.
I will try to update more often, but no promises. You should know though, that I remember everyone at home when I’m basking in the sun, wondering what that thing called winter was, again? Haha, sorry, I just had to rub it in once more before springtime in Canada relieves the winter blahs.
Much love to you all.
