Let’s introduce Jamaica with some classic Jamaican humor:
The Jamaican Tief
A Guyanese and a Jamaican walk into a store, the Guyanese tief a chocolate bar and when they left the store he said, “You see that? I tief three chocolate bars. Nobody can ever tief like me.”
And the Jamaican said, “Mek wi go back to the store. Me ago show yuh a who a the real tief.” They went in and the Jamaican said to the cashier, “Yuh want to see a magic trick?”
The cashier said, “Sure.”
“Hand me a chocolate bar.” The Jamaican ate it. “Hand me another one.” He ate that one. “Hand me one more.” He ate the third chocolate bar.
“But, sir,” said the cashier, “where’s the magic?”
The Jamaican man pointed to his Guyanese friend. “Check him pockets and yuh find all three a dem.”
We asked the usual, “What are five characteristics of the average Jamaican?” Almost everyone said the same thing. “Jamaicans are all different. None of them are the same.” It was really a struggle to get Jamaicans to lump everybody into the same categories. When pressed, the best we could get was, “Jamaicans love to laugh. Jamaicans love to eat. Jamaicans love to drink. (Rum? This always brought a guilty little laugh.) And, Jamaicans love music.
I might add, Jamaicans are averse to reducing all people of any culture into a stereotype. And, good for them.
That little opening joke however is illustrative of a characteristic we encountered many times in Port Antonio, Jamaica: Jamaicans are extremely clever and good natured. They do indeed love to laugh and most of the time it is at their own expense with deep amusement that they are telling tales out of school. Unlike some other foreign cultures, Jamaicans on the whole are very quick to pick up on a joke and they will extend it forever. A shared joke becomes a strong bond.
Food? We were bellying up to the bar at a jerk chicken center with a couple of Red Stripes before we even got to our hotel. We had to walk through a purple haze to get inside. (I haven’t seen a cloud like that since 1969!) There was a serious game of dominoes going on just outside and it was lightning fast and everybody was having a GRAND time. We had 3 orders of jerk chicken, a couple more of jerk pork, and Pablo wanted more…(More! More! Give me more!) As it was closing in on Midnight and I feared for his intestinal track I dragged him away. (It wasn’t easy.)
We avoided the big tourist traps around Montego Bay and Kingston where the Sandals Resort and that ilk have set up camp but there’s a price to pay for being that kind of tourism snob, and that price is paid in both time and money. Port Antonio is on the northeast coast in Portland Parish. The road to Portland Parish from Kingston is long, (2.5 hours) arduous, (full of potholes and narrow in many places) and Jamaicans drive on the wrong side of the road. (Thank you Great Britain for another perfectly good country ruined.) The official language is the Queen’s English which everyone speaks to tourists, but amongst themselves Jamaicans speak a patois that is both charming and nearly indecipherable. Lots of fun to try though. Because of the wrong side of the road thing we hired drivers to take us everywhere and the hotel (Pablo’s BFF, Anthony Bourdain also stayed here) provided instant drivers at our beck and call and not too much $$$$.
It was made abundantly clear to us by everyone on the way to Jamaica, in Jamaica and from Jamaica that if you want to score a little ganja, just say the word. We investigated the possibilities so that we could report back to our Desto3 followers but all inquiries were of a purely anthropological (not commercial) nature. (I swear.) Consensus is that though ganja is still technically illegal in Jamaica, it is nevertheless everywhere and easily acquired by anyone. More than one Jamaican asked us about the rumor that the quality of California weed is outstanding. Word travels quickly among the enlightened. We could have purchased something called “Marenga” whatever that is but I think we are too old to try to find out. Let us know if you know. Also available, (although a little more on the down low was the availability of some serious obeah. (Black magic.) We passed on that, too, but it was tempting to think we might be able to “put a hex on you”. Not “you” you, but, you know. “You” as in whomever.
It’s a unique country. Granted independence in the early sixties and dominated by a minority ruling class of extremely wealthy individuals of mixed race, it is nevertheless, on the whole a very poor country. All the wealth is at the top. Like every other tropical paradise, tourism is a HUGE piece of the economic puzzle that is the Caribbean. They are known for Blue Mountain coffee. (Coffee is an important export – coming soon to a Starbucks near you. No joke.) Some sources report Jamaica to be #1 in the world in homicides. Everyone in Portland Parish will tell you (brag) that there’s NO violence there. All the murderers, gangsters and criminals live in Kingston. (Another reason to avoid that place.) We felt extremely safe in Port Antonio and though there’s plenty of security around, for the most part it is disguised as “grounds keepers”. (At least where we stayed.) Off campus, the drivers were all big, buff dudes who seemed to know everyone and also seemed a bit intimidating even as they distributed hearty high fives everywhere we went.
I could wax poetic about the lush, tropical beauty of the place and the incomparable grandeur of the seascapes, but why don’t you just look at Pablo’s pics, mon?
