Not Another Guide

When I told people I was going to Jamaica for the weekend the following conversation inevitably ensued;

Me: “I am going to Jamaica for the weekend”

Person: “Really, how cool, be careful”

And then, depending on who it was, they continued to tell about the time they went to Jamaica and it looked dangerous with all those “ghettos or shanti towns”, or they stayed in Jamaica “in a compound with guards”, or never left the resort because they were told not too or simply that their friend visited Jamaica once and said it was a pretty ‘hairy’ place!

“Thanks” I simply replied.

“Are you going to Montego Bay, or Negril” They would continue.  It was almost too obvious.

“Actually, I am flying in to Kingston and will be staying there. I am visiting my friend who lives there”

“Oh, Kingston, well I have heard about that place, you really should be careful.”

“Thanks”.   I’ll be sure to pack my bullet proof vest.

JetBlue fly daily, non-stop from New York to either Kingston or Montego Bay.  Booked enough time in advance (about 6weeks) you can really get a good deal.  I took an 8am $300 JetBlue flight from JFK straight to Kingston on a Friday morning.  The flight was seamless.  It takes roughly 3 ½ hours of flying time and traveling on JetBlue is always a treat.  The extra leg room and friendly staff always make them the preferred airline where possible.

Kingston Manly airport is small but it took over an hour to get through immigration and customs, and while I only had carry-on luggage I was still asked to open my bags and check to see if I was importing things for my friends.  Since duty is a huge source of revenue, and so many people from the Islands have their friends purchase goods from the US due to their affordability, customs agents are well versed in what they are looking for.  Jamaican’s (a lot like Australians actually) are pretty quick to get to the point and they don’t waste time with niceties.  “Why are you here?” the customs lady immediately asked, to which I answered “for business and to visit friends” to which she replied “what are you bringing over for your friends?”  To which I replied……”um…a jar of almond butter”!   She looked at me perplexed.  Not the kind of tax revenue she was thinking of.   I did omit the fact that I also had a blackberry for my friend.

Jamaica is considered the land of wood and water……and I have to add….. The most amazing ladies hairstyles!  I have curly hair.  I get out of the shower, scrunch in some frizz ease, occasionally take a hairdryer to my locks, run out the door and still I look for ways to shorten this ritual.  Jamaican women on the other hand take their appearance seriously, particularly their hair.  I mean, I saw one woman who fashioned her mane to resemble the Sydney Opera House (or the Guggenheim building in New York - I wasn’t quite sure!)  How they sleep with these head pieces I don’t know, but if I was in a game of word association my word would be: Respect.

Driving out of the airport and into Kingston you can’t help but look up and be awed by the beautiful mountain range in the distance.   In contrast to this, Kingston sits in the foreground and feels like it is built entirely by concrete and metal (no wood and water here).  I have to say I was surprised.  It’s not easy to feel like you are in paradise in Kingston, it has a hard edge but there is such a beauty to it that I couldn’t help but be intrigued.

My friend didn’t waste any time in showing me around, we drove through some of the slums and ghetto’s that the rest of the world seems so afraid of.  I wasn’t afraid, I don’t know that I would get warm hugs and beers bought for me at the local bar, but I didn’t feel like I’d get a knife to my neck either.  What I really loved about it was the color.  A lot of buildings are in disrepair but they are painted in vivid colors, bright hues of orange and reds and green and yellow and pinks.

The people in Kingston seemed more curious than threatening.  I got a lot of stares and not a lot of smiles!  But that doesn’t mean I felt uncomfortable either.  You just have to know that you’re not in your own country.   Jamaicans are quick to the point, straight forward and don’t waste time with a whole lot of niceties….but I love that they are honest and funny.  They have a great sense of humor.

My friend was particularly keen to have me experience real Jamaican food the entire time I was there; Jerk Chicken, fried chicken, festival, ackee and salt fish, fried dumplings and Jamaican patties and I have to say, none of it disappointed.  I don’t have a huge appetite but I do love to eat and particularly when I travel I love to taste the local flavors.

Our first stop was for patties.  Fried food is not my go to food but I was in another country and I was keen to say yes to all of it (ok – I said no to the oxtail and pig foot stew).  Jamaican patties or, after I had finished my first one, Jamaican pockets of heaven!  Warm, delicious pockets of soft goodness inside (we had soy and vegetables, but most common is beef) with a toasty outside, I was hooked.

However, the best was yet to come for me.  For dinner we drove to the newly opened Kingston outpost of a popular restaurant in the north part of the country called Scotchies.  As I entered from the gravel parking lot, down a pathway lined with lush trees, the smell of smoking meat, the warm air on my skin and the sight of the dimly lit open air dining area it occurred to me that I might just be in paradise.  

I let my friend do the ordering, trusting he knew what I would like, and I was right.  It’s a casual affair at Scotchies; you order and pay at a small window, get your tickets and then wait for your number to be called.  All the while, you can stand along a counter to watch all the meat being……..jerked?!!  Ok, cooked…but I had to say it (for the sake of keeping interest, I won’t go into the reason it’s called jerk chicken but you can find out a few theories here.)  Once your number is called, you take your food (in a bag) and find a place to sit in the garden.

With a red stripe beer and enough meat to usually last me a week, I took my first bite.  The smoked chicken fell off the bone and into my stomach in what seemed like one seamless movement.  I proceeded to continue to eat until I couldn’t eat anymore, and then continued to eat some more.  It wasn’t a pretty sight, (my friend was entertained) but every little morsel that entered my appreciative lips was savored or devoured – I couldn’t tell which.  I was happy, that I knew.

Saturday morning, after a lunch of fried chicken and rice and beans at Sonia’s Home-style cooking we were off to the country.  Ocho Rios, for the day.

We headed to the well-known tourist spot, Dunn’s River Falls where it’s popular to don some very unflattering plastic shoes and climb a whole heap of rocks against the force of nature.  We were there just after some heavy rainfall so the velocity of the water coming at us was a little intimidating.  Ever seen that hyena chase in the Disney film ‘The Lion King’?  It felt like that.   But, I had on ridiculously looking plastic shoes so what was there to be afraid of?  Actually, just the very cold water. 

Climbing the falls was fun.  I felt quite brave and strong climbing against the ferocious tumbling water, until I saw a 5 year old ahead of me doing the same.  The falls climb might not be something you would do with your grandmother, and it doesn’t exactly feel hidden and local (if you can buy plastic shoes at the ‘entrance’ and there are tickets you have to purchase, you can be certain it’s not an ‘undiscovered local spot’).  By the way, they charge you almost double if you are not from Jamaica. 

We had Scotchies for dinner that night too – at the Ocho Rios outpost – I might have been a little more dignified with my eating.

We kicked off our Sunday with a traditional breakfast of ackee and salt fish from Sonia’s (my friend had 2 plates!).  Again, I loved it.  It’s an unusual dish to be honest.  Salt fish is essentially salted cod and the ackee part of the dish is a national fruit.  Ackee didn’t seem to have a strong flavor to me, but since the salt fish does it helped to balance the flavors.  It looked a lot like scrambled eggs, and tasted very similar to lox.   

An afternoon trip to Devon house for fresh, hand-made ice-cream topped my weekend off.

It’s with much disappointment that I arrived back to the States sans any threats to my life.  I didn’t encounter a mugging, I didn’t have to hide in a compound and best of all I wasn’t limited to all the ‘local’ food that would have been offered if I had in fact, stayed in a resort.  I think the only crime committed in Kingston was how cheap it was to eat such good food.

So, truth be told, Jamaica is a scary place if choose to listen to those who tell you it is.  As one who likes to understand the local culture there is always an element of risk in stepping off a well-travelled path, but there are richer rewards when you step on to a well lived path.  It’s in doing this that we start to break down barriers, and pull apart prejudices.   It’s great to hear other people’s stories of their travels, but it’s important to form your own.  You don’t know anything about a country if you spent most of it inside a resort.  So, listen to what others want to tell you (you’ll probably have no other choice), but don’t be governed by their experience.  Step off the beaten path and you might just find you make deeper connections and have a great time, and then you can go back and tell others about that. 

That’s what local travel is all about.