11/15/14
Kingston, Jamaica
I suppose that by my typical Travelogue standards, the events of
today, when written out, would seem rather boring and underwhelming. We left the hotel around 10 AM, picked up
some souvenirs, did one activity, eating a meal on-site, left at 3:30 PM, got
ice cream, went back to the hotel, went out for a casual dinner, and were back
at the hotel around 7:30 PM. Boring day,
right? Wrong.
Day 1 properly began the moment I woke up on the airplane, and we soon
landed. We were the first ones off the
plane, being the only people in business class, and we went to
immigration. There was some kind of
issue with my passport, and the agent seemed to think it was a glitch from
their end. They wound up asking my
multiple times if I was here for business.
That was the only question they had for me, and I told them it was for
pure tourism. It was not a long process,
but it was a new experience, and an unexpected one. This was the land of Bob Marley and “Yah,
mahn!” It seemed odd to be subjected to
such scrutiny. It didn’t matter. We weren’t on any type of time crunch.
My original plan was for us to head to Parliament, take our pictures,
go to the hotel, be unable to check in, change into our beach attire, have
breakfast, go to the souvenir shops, get my souvenirs, and be at the beach at 9
AM. We were able to check in early,
which allowed us to catch a much-needed nap.
As exhausting as the day was, without that nap, it surely would have
been even more tiring.
However, I was
starving, having nigh naught but a cupcake in well over 12 hours, so we got
breakfast first. I got what the waitress
called the Jamaican national dish, saltfish and ackee, which was really good
and quite a challenge to eat with chopsticks, and a perfect first Official meal
in Jamaica. The coffee I had with
breakfast was not conducive to me getting a good nap. As mentioned in the opening, we left the hotel at 10 AM and got our
taxi for the day, which seemed to be overpriced, but it was what it was, even
if I was convinced that there was racket going on between the hotel and the
taxis. I got what I needed at the
souvenir shops, including presents for Ryan and Emily, unable to find something
for Sokol. The only other person for
whom I would have wanted to buy a present was standing right next to me. She got some souvenirs for her family. I’m not sure if she got anything for herself.
From there it was time to go to the beach, and I chose Hellshire
beach, renowned for their fried fish stands.
We ordered some fried fish, which as delicious as it was difficult to
eat with chopsticks, with all the fixings and a pair of Red Stripe beers to go
with it. I lit up my Ramon Allones, the
last from the box. It was fitting that
it would be the cigar that it would be my first Official cigar in Jamaica and
the cigar that allowed me to say, “Jamaica Complete.” She gave me a congratulatory high-five,
though it was a particularly difficult task, not having to hit any WHS or
Olympic Stadiums. I joked that now that
I had said “Jamaica Complete,” we could head home. We had not yet set foot on the beach. She did not find the joke funny.
I’m sure my reader knows that I am not a huge fan of the beach. When I was younger, hell, the last time I
went to the beach even (5 months ago), I went for no other reason than to check
out the women, being in a very happy relationship with the woman lying next to
me, I had no desire to spend an afternoon “checking out women.” After minimal cajoling, I get my feet wet and
sandy.
It was shortly that my world slowly started to turn to hell. Nine hours later, I was depressed and almost
yakked. Why? One simple reason. The heat.
Yes, reader, I was in paradise, but it was as hot as hell. I do not handle the heat well. I never have.
I have always preferred the cold to the heat. It was ten degrees too hot for me. I have never been able to segregate feelings
of hunger, dehydration, and exhaustion from sadness. It was what happened in Fredericton a month
ago, and it was what was happening here today.
I was constantly hungry, eating past the point of satiation only to be
hungry 20 minutes later. No matter how
much water I drank, I could not hydrate myself.
By the time we got back to the hotel from dinner, I was sick or sad,
and I couldn’t figure out which. Now,
sitting on the balcony with a nice cool breeze, writing this entry, I am
neither, though I am still hungry, despite having eaten four big meals
today. Now, I am in familiar territory,
recalling the happy memories of St. John’s and Basseterre. Now, all is well. Three hours ago, that was not the case.
My vision of paradise is the Canadian Arctic or Greenland or northern
Scandinavia in the summer, not escaping the New York winter to go to someplace
that is hot as hell. I caught a nap and
went to get some fried lobster, no easy feat to eat with chopsticks. I bought some more gifts from a vendor there,
and our driver was soon there to pick us up.
We went to I Scream (the number 1 rated restaurant in TripAdvisor for
Kingston) for some delicious ice scream, and then he dropped us off at the
hotel.
She watched a movie while I took a much needed nap. We (she) decided that we would reenact our
little adventure to McDonald’s after the wedding when we were dressed to the
nines. The thing about us is that we
both are and would settle for nothing less than “anything but ordinary.” We got dressed up in our best outfits and
headed to get some jerk chicken at a little joint. It was so good, and I got another red stripe.
At first I thought I was toasted, but then I realized that I was
actually starting to feel sick. I was
dehydrated and exhausted and/or sad. I
couldn’t figure it out. I just wanted to
be back in the cool hotel room. By the
time we got back to the hotel, I was hungry again, despite not being able to
finish the jerk chicken. When we did get
up to the room, I took another short nap and then lit up my 2008 Christmas
Pipe, put on my Idina Menzel Christmas album, and proceeded to write this
entry, which I will now close, since I am mamash tired and ready to pass out.
No comments:
Post a Comment