You Jamadian now mon!

18

April 16, 2016 – Today we had booked ourselves into an all day outing with a tour group of about 15 others and I wasn’t sure what to expect.

The plan was a visit to the Dunn’s River Falls in Ocho Rios, followed by a trip into the mountains to visit Nine Mile, the resting place of Bob Marley.

While we were waiting for our bus one of the tour guides stopped to look at our itinerary and see if we belonged to her, when she looked up she was laughing and said “Ah, you’re going to get high today, but not with me…” and let out a huge laugh as she walked away. I stopped over to talk to the woman who had helped us book the tour and asked about shopping, but before she could direct me to the Rose Hall shops again, I added …”Where do YOU shop?” I explained that we live in a destination city and aren’t interested in going where the tours drop people off. Her suggestion was to hire a taxi for several hours for about $60US and have him take us wherever we wanted to go, and if we didn’t like where we landed, we weren’t hostage there by the tour buses. Excellent plan, time to figure out where togo another day.

Eventually our bus showed up, almost an hour late, and we plunked ourselves into two of the remaining seats…right up front behind the driver.

Later in the day that turned out to be a bit of a blood curdling choice.

Jamaica is a contrast in wealth, and it is a bit depressing to think about. The coast line is littered with all-inclusive resorts, each one tucked behind high walls and manicured landscapes, and large gates are guarded by armed security.

Inside, the tourists lounge by pools, play pool volleyball, eat and drink whatever they desire, and complain that the food isn’t up to snuff or behave badly because they over consume alcoholic cocktails as they let loose and show personalities better left hidden.

Outside, just minutes down the road, in some spots, right across the streets from the resorts, some locals live in homes cobbled together from bits and pieces. In Lilliput, just a minute from our hotel, squatters that don’t make enough money to own much of anything, eke out an existence in some heartbreaking conditions.

Our bus careened down the road with our guide giving us snippets of history as we went. We stopped in Ocho Rios for our first adventure, climbing the Dunn’s River Falls. Swimsuits on, aqua shoes on, and then it was a walk down the long staircase to the beach where one very lively falls guide, Damien, joined us and hyped everyone up. Everyone joined hands to form a human chain, and we started to scale the waterfalls from within the river.

I have no photos of this since I didn’t bring a waterproof camera, but it was fun, and some decent exercise. The rocks were slippery and balance was the name of the game. Apparently broken bones are not uncommon, the worst I managed was a bruised shin when I slammed into a rock I couldn’t see under the water.

The rocks are smooth, and my first impression was that the entire thing was man made and that concrete had been poured to make the falls, in places it looked like thick whitish mud had oozed up tree trunks. That was when I realized that it was limestone buildup. The island country is rich in limestone and mines it heavily in places, in this river the limestone particles in the water settle out as they flow down to the beach below.

We clambered our way to the top, punctuated by rests in shallow pools where our guide had us pause as he ensured everyone safely navigated boulders, holes, and rough spots.

After we finished, dried off, and changed back into our clothes, we were whisked back down the highway to a lunch stop at the Ultimate Jerk Centre. Jerk as in spice, not jerk as in jerks.

And I thought I was going to die.

On my first bite of lunch I tore a thin piece of meat off a piece of chicken, turns out what I got was a pice of skin with a thick layer of jerk paste on it…and my throat felt like it closed completely. I was a little more cautious after that! Incredibly flavourful, but wow, was that ever spicy!

Where we are bothered by sparrows, crows, and starlings when eating outside back home, we had a friendly little cattle egret visiting us while we ate.

After lunch we all piled back into the bus and headed inland, up into the mountains, up into the rain. Our driver careened around tight corners on roads that didn’t seem wide enough for two vehicles. And that’s when I started questioning the sanity of where we’d chosen to sit.

Our driver, Pearson, laughed as I sucked my breath in. As we passed several police standing by motorcycles we asked if it was a speed trap, Pearson, laughed and said, …”we don’t say speeding here mon, we use code. I don’t speed, I ‘drive below my capabilities mon’!”

After experiencing Pearson ‘driving below his capabilities’ for awhile, I leaned forward and asked how expensive insurance was in Jamaica. Although our tour guide didn’t have a very good sense of humour (she frowned and started to answer very seriously….) … Pearson’s entire body shook as he laughed, and he didn’t stop laughing for some time. He told me he had a PhD in driving….later he clarified that it stood for Pot-Hole-Dodger!

We continued to pepper them with questions about the plant life, the animal life….

Those are vultures, right? Ya mon.

Those are frigates, right? Ya mon.

What’s that black bird? That’s a crow… Really? You have nicer crows than we do, it sure has a pretty voice! Later, when we looked it up, it turned out to be a tropical form of a grackle.

Tell me about the economy, what are housing prices like? Depends where you buyin’ mon. A house in da city cost more dan in da country mon. In da country da house be like $75,000 – $100,000. Dem condos ova dere be like $500,000 US. Those houses you see that look abandoned, they being built still She told us that people don’t want to take a loan (we saw mortgage rates of 8.5%) so they work and make money and buy the land. Then they work more and start to build their house. When they run out of money they work again and save again, and then continue to build. She said a house usually takes an owner 15 – 20 years to build, but once it’s built, they don’t owe anything to anyone. Many houses have the first floor finished and the second floor is a frame of cinder blocks and rebar. Now we understand why. But some are clearly abandoned…..perhaps the owners never found enough work to continue.

What does that does that flag mean? Dat’s the Rastafarian flag mon, you know da Rastafarian? Yup.

What’re the major industries? Tourist first, den mining – bauxite, den agriculture.

What is minimum wage….and that’s when it got depressing.

As we barrelled through some small communities, filled with people at the Saturday market, and narrowly missed side view mirror removals….we were told the minimum wage, for a forty hour work week, is sixty dollars a week.

A dollar fifty US an hour, $12 a day.

People in the resorts probably spend more on a bottle of suntan lotion than some of these people make in a day.

The people looking in at us flying by looked frustrated.

I couldn’t blame them.

Eventually we reached Nine Mile, the place of Bob Marley’s birth and where his body now lays.

At the Bob Marley Mausoleum, many of the passengers of the bus took their turn slipping into a small alley next to the gate where they purchased bags, joints, brownies, or tea. Inside, we were told the story of his life, shown a small room with many of his gold record awards, shown where he was born and where his mother was laid when she died just eight years ago. Our guide on the tour happily puffed away on his joint as he told his tales.

When I saw the words “Bob Lives” spelled out in stones and painted the Rastafarian colours (which we were told were Red, to symbolize the blood, gold, to symbolize the sun, and green,…to symbolize the weed”), I couldn’t help but think….. “I wonder if he’s hanging out with Elvis?” I almost said it out loud, but the reverence this tour guide, our self proclaimed “Captain Crazy” clearly felt for Bob, told me I shouldn’t.

It was humbling to stand on the deck overlooking the lush valley below, and scan the area and see the poverty. There is little running water here, the rain is captured on a concrete catchment that spills into a small reservoir where locals can take buckets back to their homes for use. Otherwise, water is trucked in. It was raining, and the cool mountain air felt good.

We stopped in the gift shop and a woman asked where I was from – Canada – her face split into a smile and she said, “Welcome to Jamaica, you Jamadian now mon!” I bought a couple of little woven bracelets for a few dollars, felling guilty for leaving empty handed after the conversation.

When we were leaving, a little boy lay on the ground on the other side of the gate, his hand extended under, beseeching “One dollar?”

And then it was a crazy and hair raising hurtle back down the twisting, pot hole riddled, road, back through the small towns with clouded eyes scanning us as we raced past. I felt tears welling in my eyes at the unfairness of the world to its peoples. I looked up and distracted myself with the numerous epiphytic plants growing and flowering on the power lines.

And then, after dark, we were eventually deposited back into the stark contrast that is our all-inclusive hotel.

By the end of the day, the GPS said we’d covered 239km. (Google Maps kml file here >>)

It was a lot of ground, both literally and figuratively, that we’d covered.

It was a quiet and thoughtful evening.