First Impressions

Day 1

Before I get into the good stuff, I have to brag about taking the same plane as Sean Paul to Jamaica. I had a long layover in Miami so I sat down by the gate and fell asleep. I woke up what seemed like five minutes later to some rambunctious Jamaican guys who were being really loud and obnoxious. Because they were drawing so much attention to themselves, I couldn’t help notice the Sean Paul All Access 2006 tags that they were all wearing. Soon enough, Sean Paul himself walks up to the guys.

…. Jamaica, however, is amazing. Upon arrival there are so many things to notice. Flying over the island (I was coming from the north and landing in the south) was enlightening because it showed me how much of Jamaica was truly undeveloped, consisting of only the color green. I swear, the entire island, with the exception of a few small commercial areas, is just completely green. It is beautiful. On the plane, I was sitting next to a local who was returning from New York. He pointed out rivers, the Blue Mountains and a new freeway. When I stepped off of the plane, I was immediately hit by a warm and humid breeze that did not nearly resemble paradise, as I had expected. Rather, the heat was so intense that I swear I started sweating before I even got into the airport, which doesn’t even mean anything because it wasn’t air-conditioned anyway. Twenty minutes of customs and baggage and I was officially in Jamaica.

The first thing I noticed after hitting the road was that Jamaica is absolutely beautiful. You look to one side and you see a bright blue ocean detailed with whitewash. You look to the other side and you see deep green forest covering a gigantic mountain range. As we drove further north, I became aware of several driving signs. One read, “Stay Alive, Don’t Drink and Drive,” another “Good Drivers Stop At Red Lights. Are You A Good Driver?” I soon found out that there were no traffic laws in Jamaica until about five years ago (and I wonder still if they enforce the laws because I didn’t see a single cop car and everyone drives like a maniac). You could drive yourself to the bar, get wasted, and drive yourself home. The newest cars are from the early ‘90’s. I was driving in a van that was from the ‘80’s, and much later in the evening I rode in cab whose speedometer didn’t even work. Continuing northward, I was informed that with every new development sprouts a ghetto. It’s clear that this is true because blocks are drastically different from one another. One block will have large, freshly painted houses with lots of plants decorating a spacious front yard. The next will be literally shacks built from scraps of wood and metal with its residents sitting nearby playing dominoes.

Another thing I noticed is that the language is more difficult to decipher than I thought it would be. I was under the impression that Jamaicans spoke Patois as well as English, so I figured that people could eliminate their “slang” and speak to me more clearly. While it is true that they can speak in English, it is with a very thick patois accent and I have trouble understanding it. Another thing I thought was a stereotype was the ‘ya, mon.’ I didn’t think that people actually said this a lot, but I was completely wrong! Another interesting phrase is “fatty.” In America, if someone called you “fatty,” it would be extremely offensive. However, in Jamaica, men prefer their women to be thicker (I’m wondering if this is a sign of financial stability or because of the natural build of Africans with the larger hips?), so when they try to pick up ladies, they say, “psssssssst, fatty!” That’s another thing I didn’t know about Jamaica: catcalls are not offensive. Rather, they are the norm and it’s considered rude if you don’t wave back at them because you make yourself look too good for them.

Finally, I noticed that the people of this island truly are all black. I have not seen a white person that wasn’t a tourist since I arrived here. I guess that when I saw the demographic on paper, 85% black, that there would be a whole 15% white population as well. I realize now, however, that the white population is probably completely located near Montego Bay or in the huge mansions that you see lining the Blue Mountains. I think there is a possibility that me and the other student I’m living with are the only white people in Kingston. This is a very strange phenomenon because in America, I’ve always been a part of the majority. I have not encountered problems with this yet, but I’m sure they will arrive eventually.

I’m staying in a middle-class home. From the outside it looks nice, but upon entering I noticed several things that I am not accustomed to. First of all, the house has really old, worn out furniture (except for the patio which is filled with whicker chairs and tables and lots of potted tropical plants that house lizards and tree frogs…I think I’ll be spending a lot of time out there). Next, there are dogs all over the neighborhood that do not stop barking. Of course, the barking dogs wouldn’t be such an annoyance if there was glass on the windows. Yes, the windows are just holes in the wall with metal bars (probably to prevent theft) and wooden blinds that you can adjust to let in more or less air from outside. So, I’m left with barking dogs that you can’t close the window on – don’t worry mom, I’m in a neighborhood that is completely safe. Another inconvenience: I was taking a shower and realized very quickly that it does not have hot water. The hot water faucet doesn’t even turn. When I went to wash my face this morning, I noticed that the sink was the same. So, no hot water for me while I’m here…I’m sure my razor-burned legs won’t mind, but I’m not sure what Kyle will think (haha). Something I thought was cool at first, the distant sound of reggae music emanating from the hillside, DOES NOT END!!!! There’s no TV, no internet, no air conditioning and no screens on the windows. This is definitely not America.

My homestay mother is Ms. Olive Ford. She is a wonderful lady. Unfortunately, however, no one notified her that the IPSL students were arriving today. I am housed in my own room, but there is one more student staying in the same house as me. His name is Cliff. Anyway, Ms. Ford is very generous and has been participating in IPSL for 17 years (with at least two semesters a year)! Even though she didn’t know we were coming today, she quickly made us lunch and put our rooms together (the former students moved out a week ago). Her tuna was delicious (Dad should try adding spices and onion to his recipe) and on toast – just the way I like it. She also squeezed some orange juice for us, and it was by far the best orange juice that I have had in my entire life. It was sweet, thin with little pulp and delicious. I drank a lot of that.

I definitely didn’t think that a middle class neighborhood in a third world country would be this bad. I didn’t think that my experience would include no hot water in the entire house or difficulty sleeping at night. Jamaica is much poorer than I imagined. I thought that the shanty towns would be located far from the nicer middleclass neighborhoods, but in actuality they are just further down the block. While I know that it will be uncomfortable and less ideal than I am used to, I am still excited because it is clear that many Jamaicans don’t mind sacrificing higher standards of living for Blue Mountains, the Caribbean Sea and the physical and cultural beauty of the island they are proud to be inhabitants of. Hopefully I will learn this love as well.

Mom and Kyle, I already miss you and can’t wait for you to visit me. They say that the best time to do this is for Easter because we have a holiday break from school. I don’t think that either of you will like it very much here because it is so hot and humid and most places don’t have air conditioning. I actually like it a lot right now, but it’s winter and it’s 85 degrees so I don’t know how it will be in the summer.





Day 2

I slept in really late today…around 12. I got up and no one seemed to be home or awake so I read David Sedaris. When Ms. Ford came home she brought beef and chicken patties for Cliff and I. They were really good. Patties are basically pastries with a meat filling. They cost about 50 American cents here and they are very filling. After eating, Cliff and I went to a center to buy some necessities like toothpaste. Ms. Ford gave us directions and explained how to get on the bus and which bus to take. We shopped around for a couple of hours until it got dark and we returned home because it’s not safe to be out when it’s dark if you don’t know the area well.

While we were shopping I saw a lot of Jamaicans. I have to admit that I was kind of afraid to walk around even though I was with Cliff. The two of us must have stood out because for the two hours we were out, I saw only one white man (but he was shopping in a mall and was clearly a tourist), and one Asian man. I guess I’ve read so much about how Jamaica, especially Kingston, is filled with crime, and I’ve brainwashed myself to be paranoid of going out. I know that you can’t be too careful, but at the same time I feel like I’m overly afraid. This is probably because it was my first time going out and I haven’t even been to school yet. I’m sure I will become more comfortable with the vibe that shopping centers give off. Anyway, Ms. Ford said that we should be okay because we look “rude”. For those that don’t know, the term is used to describe young men or women who are hip…ever hear of rude boys? In other words, she said that we should fit in. She also added that by having dreads, no one would think I’m a tourist at first. This pleased me a lot because I was afraid that dreads would be offensive to the culture here. She explained that dreads are not offensive anymore in Jamaica, but they are highly associated with the Rastafarian movement.

We stopped in a record store today, and there was not one cd that was less than $2000! In America, that’s $33!! I’m wondering if it was because of the store or if Jamaicans have to import cds or if cd players are rare or something. Obviously, I didn’t drop any money there today. Another thing, I have not been in any tourist areas yet, so I haven’t been able to pick up postcards or paper or anything to write home with. I’m trying to understand the money conversions but it’s harder than I thought it would be.

For dinner today Ms. Ford cooked us breadfruit, plantain, two kinds of rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes and salad. Breadfruit is similar to potatoes but stringy and plantain is like a banana but sweeter with more of a citrus twist to it. Both were fried. I have heard of breadfruit before, but I had never tried it. When you look at it, it looks like a fruit that might be juicy. I tried the plantain first and expected the breadfruit to be similar. I took a big bite of breadfruit and I could barely even swallow it because it was much drier than I had expected. It soaked up all of my saliva and I could barely chew anymore. It was very embarrassing but I don’t think anyone noticed.



Day 4

Today we had to get up early to enroll as students and tour the campus. Once we were finished, a student advisor took us to Papine. Papine is a middle-class shopping center just down the street from the university. It was really run down, exactly like you see in movies. There are bars on all of the counters to protect the cashiers, people loitering outside trying to sell half-full bottles of rum and homeless people begging for change. We went to Papine to get cell phones for two students that don’t live with me. Once they got their phones we decided to go to Devon House.

We decided to take a cab there and our driver happened to be a rasta. He told us about the cool places to go in Kingston and gave us his number for future cab rides. Instead of putting his name though, he put “rasta”. Devon House is the former residence of a millionaire. It’s since been restored. We didn’t go inside, but we did eat lunch at a Jamaican place nearby. I had bammi (dense and bread-like), carnival (yellow and bread-like), pork, chicken and fish. We shopped around a little and I picked up some postcards. I hope to send them out by Monday because the only post office within walking distance is on campus, and it’s not open until Monday. I don’t know how to get stamps and stuff so they’ll have to explain it to me.

From Devon House, we walked through New Kingston and visited Emancipation Park. Emancipation park is a really nice open space with lots of grass, water decorations, benches, an amphitheatre and a huge statue titled “Redemption Song”. The statue depicts two slaves, one male and one female, gazing up to the heavens. It’s a very controversial statue because the slaves are naked. In Jamaica, homosexuality is not tolerated at all. It’s so bad that men are not supposed to be depicted in the nude. The statue has gotten a lot of slack from these people.

We spent the whole day in Kingston, from Devon House to New Kingston, and the whole time, people were yelling things at me. I think that because of my dreads I’ve become more approachable. People driving on the street yell things like, “Hey Rasta!” or “Be irie, Empress!” I’m assuming that, because male rastas are called Emperors, like Emperor Haile Selassie I, women are referred to as empresses. It was so bad that one man, while I was walking in New Kingston, walked next to me and asked me to hold his hand. This was really scary and I didn’t know what to do…I didn’t know if he wanted to rob me or get in my pants. But I smiled at him and said, “thank you very much but I’m married.” He was totally fine with that response and told me to be irie. I’m glad I didn’t overreact because I think that it might have had something to do with either Jamaican or Rasta culture. He didn’t seem like he was homeless or crazy or anything so I’m assuming that maybe it was a cultural thing. The other students I was with all thought it was weird and creepy which kind of made me feel awkward because I interpreted it differently than them. Regardless, the situation didn’t get out of hand, so I guess the way I handled it was okay.

Out of all the food I’ve eaten so far, the best has been the juice. Jamaica has amazing fruit and they make lots of juices from it. TruJuice is Jamaica’s home brand of juice, and it’s made from 100% natural fruits picked from Jamaican fields. I had some limeade today and it was not what I expected at all, but it was amazing! I also had mango-pineapple juice today and my homestay mother bought TruJuice Pineapple and TruJuice Fruit Punch for us to drink throughout the day.

I got a likkle (patois for little) tan today, but we’re going to the beach tomorrow. I’m going to introduce my dreads to the ocean for the first time. I’m super excited.