Reflections on resorting and the long way home

12

April 21 (slipping into the 22nd), 2016 – Now that my childish snit fit about a screwed up flight back to Vancouver has abated and I’m on a plane home, the red eye…not the plane we were supposed to be on….put it back in the box, put it on the shelf, let it go Paige….breathe….have another sip of wine and think happy thoughts….

Today was a travel day, and a day to reflect on the trip. There were so many wonderful things, and so many little things that made it great. There were also so many little bits and pieces that got forgotten in my electronic version of  a journal, and they flit in and out of my vision. Since I’m now trapped on a long flight across this great big country we call home, and since it’s after midnight and I’m awake with an in-flight internet connection, some wine, and only twelves songs on my computer’s iTunes list, I might as well try to collect those little bits and pieces and get them down into words on the screen for us to remember.

When we made our first trip out of the resort and headed towards Ocho Rios we passed an area called Lilliput. At the edge of the highway was a shanty town that stretched for some distance, and I am slightly ashamed to say that that view temporarily clouded by view of this wonderful place called Jamaica. I’f I’d been here for just a day, and that was all I’d seen, what a terrible impression I would have been left with.

I’m happy to say that we covered a lot of territory and met a lot of locals after that, and it’s that more in depth look that left me with my final impression.

This is a place I would come back to.

BUT!

I would not do it again in an all-inclusive resort.

On our city trip gone-slightly-wrong-but-made-so-wonderfully-right by a tour guide in moderate damage control, we were told that the company will book tours, seven days, more, less, whatever suits you, but that they will set up a seven day tour, a different hotel every night, and take you around the entire island, and introduce you to the real country.

Maxine piqued our interest more than any brochure ever could.

Don’t get me wrong. The resort was a good starting point, but if we come back, I would not do it again. Not because it wasn’t fabulous, but because I want more than to be stuck behind the walls of a place that I have to come back to every night. The staff were wonderful, the resort was magnificent, the food was great, but it was always the same bed, and eventually I find that boring and cage-like. I think I have about a three day window before I turn into a bit of a caged animal….maybe two….you’d have to ask Kirk, he’s the one who measures and gauges my level of frustration in all things.

Heck, he’s survived living with me for 30 years now….he deserves a medal or something.

Wait, where was I?

So, the resort.

To back up a bit, I said I’d never done an all-inclusive before, and I realize, in retrospect that this isn’t correct. I’ve actually been to two all-inclusives before, but neither was truly a vacation.

The first was in Manaus, Brazil. I was there for a conference and the time at the hotel was filled with scientific talks and poster sessions and such.

The second was in Puerto Vallarta, but Kirk was there for business and I was along as the plus-one. We went down a week early because Kirk’s employer wanted him down to do some design for the home he was building. I spent those first days happily settled on the deck at Dave’s penthouse condo high above the city, above the bugs and in the breeze, while I marked final exams and term papers. Really, there are worse places to do your marking. Then we moved to the resort for a week and I did a day of dutiful excursion stuff with “the wives” before I bailed and spent the rest of the days slipping out of the resort with my shoulder bag and camera and walked the city by myself, happily meeting and interacting with the locals.

Did I mention I don’t do well sitting on the beach or by the pool?

But back to this resort….

The food: The buffet was excellent, as long as you overlooked the fact that there were hot dogs and hamburgers to satisfy the people who didn’t want to actually admit they were in another country and try the local fare. Every day there was something local and new – oxtail stew, jerk chicken/pork/lamb, goat curry, fried plantains, roasted breadfruit, codfish with ackee fruit….so may delicious things to taste. For breakfast…again, plantains, local fruits, fresh yogurt, made to order omelettes, breakfast fish and ackee, fried sweet potatoes…..and yet…I watched one guy eat four icing glazed donuts for breakfast!

Seriously, expand your culinary horizons!

The excursions: In Jamaica you can do just about anything you want to do. But stop and think that in Canada we can find places to go zip lining, horseback riding, parasailing…why not try to see something you won’t see at home? Try the cultural tours and actually learn the history of the people you are meeting.

The bad: Dolphin Cove. We saw it advertised, we drove by it on a tour. It just makes me angry. If we all made the effort to stop capitalizing on the lives of a highly intelligent animal – the dolphin – maybe places like this wouldn’t hold them captive. Don’t swim with dolphins, it may make you happy, but it’s cruel punishment to the animals being caged.

It’s inhumane.

Just….don’t.

If you need to abuse an animal, go ride a horse in the ocean, at least it was bred for the purpose and has its herd (such as it is) to go back to when you are finished with it.

Work ethics: We were told by several people we met, if you don’t like your job, if you don’t want to work, there is always someone willing to take your place. The Jamaicans work hard and their ethics are well above North American standards. We could learn much from them. Construction sites we passed at night had workers on the roofs well into the late hours. They work from 7am until 11pm in a climate where we saw 33C after dark…. They have far more fortitude than we do, and they don’t whine about things.

Nature: Fabulous! Look at the plant life and the birds that are around you. We saw frigates, pelicans, cranes, egrets, and so many other fantastic birds. We saw more palms than I can name, and the flowers are fantastic. A tree I would give anything to be able to have grows wild here – the Royal Poinciana – a fantastic tree with glorious orange flowers. Oh if only I could grow one back home.

Our trip to the airport this morning was relatively uneventful save for a couple who failed to meet the bus on time at the Holiday Inn pickup. They made us all sit for 15 minutes and then called down to ask for another ten….our driver climbed in and we left without them. Seriously, take a taxi, but don’t keep a bus load of travellers waiting for you.

And again we found ourselves right behind the driver so again we peppered him with questions. How long does a palm tree live? How long does it take to grow that big? Can you cut it and use it like wood? What else can you do with the material? How long does it take to get a driver’s licence here? Do you have graduated licences? What about a motorcycle licence, how do you get that? How long does ti take to become a taxi driver? Do you have to take special lessons?

And in turn, he asked us a few questions when had an opportunity.

“How long is your trip once we reach Canada?”

“Oh, maybe five hours, give or take…”

“That’s a long drive….”

Oh, sorry, no, that’s the flight, then we have about an hour drive home after that.”

“How big is Canada?”

How do you possibly explain that to someone whose country is smaller than your province’s biggest island?

“Ummm, pretty big…about 9,000 kilometres long, but it’s pretty empty, we only have about 35 million people in 10 million square kilometres, compared to your slightly less than 3 million people in 10 thousand square kilometres.”

He chewed on that for awhile….. yes, we are a huge and empty land mass.

And so on….. he had the heartiest, most stereotypical laugh, but he answered every query until he deposited us at the Montego Bay airport and we gave him a tip for his troubles.

And as we leave this fabulous country I am reminded what several Jamaicans have said to us, “Out of many, one people.” It is on their coat of arms.

Jamaica is not about the water, or the sun, or the beaches. It’s not about the night clubs, or the shops, or the ganja. It’s not about parasailing, or swimming with captive dolphins. Jamaica is about the people that call this place home.

If you want to meet Jamaica, stay here for awhile, and get out from behind the walls of a resort. Talk to the residents, ask them questions about their lives, really “meet” them.

As with every place on earth, there is no place like this place.

Until next time…..mi deh ya….I am here….and I am honoured to have met some wonderful residents.