“Blue
Mountains National Park”
12/10/16,
“The List”
John F.
Kennedy International Airport, New York (JFK)
I have a
list, which I finished updating yesterday, the body of which has 1052
lines. It is an ever growing list. At the bottom of the list are two numbers,
one reads 253, the other is the difference between 1052 and 253, 779. The interpretation of those numbers is “253
Down, 779 To Go”. Every year, new lines
are added to the list, but the number at the bottom is constantly increasing
from 253, hopefully at a faster pace than the number of lines grows. That list is the list of every World Heritage
Site in the world and the record of which ones I have visited. The only reason I am sitting in that airport
is so that I can increase that number from 253 to 254. Blue Mountain National Park is one of North
America’s newest World Heritage Sites, inscribed in 2015 after my visit to
Jamaica, and it necessitates a visit.
When people have asked me where I am going this weekend, not once have I
answered “Jamaica.” It’s always been
“Blue Mountain National Park.” To me,
that’s where I’m going. I’ve been to
“Jamaica.” No, this is different. This is not a trip to the beach or a chance
to eat jerk chicken or a visit to Parliament in Kingston. None of that matters. All that matters is the uptick in that
number. It would not matter if the site
was in Jamaica or Canada or Nebraska. It
is a World Heritage Site in North America, and I am on the verge having been
able to say that I have seen them all.
Of the 1052 lines on that list, 104 of them are located in what I
consider geographic North America. I
have been to 90 of them. I’m almost
there. In 12 hours, I’ll have been to 91
of them.
That is the entire purpose of
this trip, and that is how I am treating it.
All I packed is my computer bag with some warm-weather clothes and a
shirt for flying home. There are no
beach clothes or sunscreen. There is not
even any open-toed footwear. Will not be
hiking the mountain as the trip was original planned, instead choosing to
indulge in the mixed natural and cultural experience of the site, which it is
how it was described, by seeing the Plaque from Moore Town.
This trip is designed around as quickly and
efficiently seeing the park as possible. I am sleeping in my own bed in New York both Friday night and Sunday
night, flying out Saturday morning and coming home Sunday night. I will only spend 24 hours in the park,
driving straight from Norman Manley when I land, and then driving straight back
to Norman Manley before my flight tomorrow night, not stopping in the capital
or at the beach. The new World Heritage
Site. That’s all that matters. That’s it.
Okay, so, now for Day 1, which technically
began exactly two hours ago. I suppose
Day 0 is the more interesting account.
My Persian friend and I did are semiregular pizza and movie night, which
we have down to a rather rigid routine, and any variation to the routine
requires approval by both of us. We met
outside the now-closed cigar shop and walked to California Pizza Kitchen, part
of the tradition. At one point, we
realized I was on his right, whereas I usually walk on his left. That change had to be immediately
rectified. At CPK, I ordered my usual
appetizer, and, for the main courses, he ordered his usual pizza, while I
ordered a different one, like I do every time.
We both finished our pizzas. It
was way too much food, but that’s also part of the tradition.
Now it was time for the part of the evening
that is most subject to variation. The
ideal scenario is to have the pizza, then smoke a full cigar, then see the movie,
then get dessert, then say our goodbyes, but the movie timing doesn’t always
work quite right for that. We had opted
to see Nocturnal Animals, which was playing at 7:35 PM and 10:30 PM. I knew that I would have to wake up at 4 AM
for my flight, so neither timing was ideal.
The 7:35 PM showing seemed to early, while the 10:30 PM movie meant I’d
be lucky to get 3 hours of sleep. Well,
as luck would have it, we finished dinner at 7 PM, and we had time to make the
7:35 PM showing.
We went to my place for
gin and Cubans, walking to the theatre with our cigars after finishing the gin. When we got to the theatre, we bought our
tickets, and that was when things got interesting. We got his ticket without issue, but, then I
went to get mine immediately after, and it was sold out. He had gotten the last ticket. What to do?
Thinking quickly, I bought another ticket for a similarly timed showing
on the same floor and told him to switch stubs with me and play cool. Our ruse worked, and we found seats in the
very front row of the auditorium.
The
movie was amazing. The second best movie
I’ve seen of the year. The number one
best movie? Amy Adam’s other movie:
Arrival. I was completely full from
dinner, so I could not have dessert, which meant we had to forego that part of
the evening. We retrieved our cigars and
walked to Park Avenue, where we said our goodbyes. I went to my apartment, arranged my pickup
for 4:15 AM, quickly packed, set my alarm for 4 AM, and crashed.
Next thing I knew, it was 4 AM. I rushed to get ready and was downstairs at
4:20 AM, at the airport before 5 AM. The
airport was oddly crowded for so early on a Saturday morning, but I had TSA
PreCheck, which also had a long line and moved slower than it should have. These were not frequent business travelers in
front of me.
Once I cleared security, I
went to get breakfast, which consisted of sausage, egg, and cheese on a hero,
along with coffee. I headed to the gate
to eat my breakfast there, and, when I got there, I realized that I was the
only white face at the crowded gate. I
am used to that in the Caribbean, but I am not used to it when flying out of
Kennedy. I realized that tourists who
are going to Jamaica on vacation would not be taking this flight, nor would
they likely fly to Kingston (as opposed to Montego Bay), but it was still
rather shocking. After breakfast, I
proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as we will soon begin
boarding.
Moore Town,
Jamaica (Blue Mountains National Park)
You have to
love a town that respects their Plaque as much as this one does. It is displayed in prominent location, next
to their regional heroine’s grave, across from the school, and in view of the
Blue Mountains (plural, not singular as I had been previously writing). More to the point, everyone knows where it is. It is a great source of pride for this small
town. My mission is accomplished. I have increased my count to 274. I can go home now. No, literally, everything from this point
forward could technically be considered the Return Journey.
I am sitting in the plaza of Nanny’s grave,
smoking my H. Upmann, the natural beauty of the Blue Mountains in front of me,
the cultural music of the Maroons behind me.
I can think of no better way to proper experience this Mixed World
Heritage Site. Is certainly an idyllic
experience, and I would love to stay here longer but I am fighting daylight,
and the roads back to the hotel are terrible, so I will instead just briefly
recount the events since I last closed.
After I closed, we soon boarded, and I fell asleep almost as soon as the
aircraft doors closed. I woke up about
halfway through the flight for club soda and chips and crackers. I then did some schoolwork before we
landed. From the moment I landed in
Jamaica, it was an entirely dysfunctional experience. All in all, it probably delayed my arrival
here by an hour, and it caused untold aggravation. Border control had no line for visitors, but
the officer scrutinized my passport for quite some time. Then she stamped my passport with yesterday’s
date and had to cross it out and stamp it again.
After I cleared Customs, I went to the ATM,
and the withdrawal limit was so absurdly low that I had to double check my bank
statement to make sure I didn’t do the conversion wrong. It was barely enough for food for the next 24
hours, I reckoned. The fee amounted to a
quarter of the amount I withdrew. I then
got the car, which was another dysfunctional experience, and their one GPS unit
wasn’t even working properly, so I was forced to rely on my phone, which has
been an able guide so far. When I got
the car, he did a complete functional test of the lights and horn and
everything for me. Then he had me kick
the tires. That was that, I was soon on
my way.
In order to get to my hotel in
Port Antonio, over two hours away, I had to drive through all the side streets
of Kingston, which was very hard driving, especially driving on the left. Finally, I cleared the city, and I lit up my
Yamasa and put on Red, but the driving didn’t get any better. The “highway” was a poorly maintained road
barely wide enough for one car in each direction, and it was full of curves
through the mountain. It was not an easy
drive by any stretch. After my Yamasa, I
lit up a Nub and switched to Avril.
Soon
enough, I arrived at my hotel. More
dysfunction, and I was to blame for part of it, having made my reservation for
tomorrow night by mistake. Their credit
card machine wasn’t working right, either, and they wound up having to route it
through the phone line. I was also
starving at this point. I went up to my
room to change into civilian clothes and then went in search of food, finding a
place where I got some questionable fried chicken and was offered something
other than tobacco to smoke after my meal.
I declined. I walked back to the
car, and put Moore Town into the GPS.
The arrival time was, fittingly enough, 4:20 PM, which was also exactly
12 hours after I left my apartment, and I lit up a Cohiba for the drive.
The road to Moore Town was also terrible, and
I wound up taking a wrong turn when I got to the town, going up this hill that
had a road that was only a road in the most technical sense of the word. I was told to turn around and go down the
hill at the fork instead of up like I did.
I then arrived at the town and quickly learned where the Plaque
was. I found it. Mission accomplished. I walked around the area a bit and took my
ceremonial pictures, lighting up an H. Upmann.
I then went to the plaza, where I sat down and proceeded to write this
entry, which I will now close so that I can see if there is anything else in
town and head back to the hotel.
Hopefully, I should be able to get there before dark.
Port
Antonio, Jamaica
It’s
Christmas in the Caribbean. There is
doubt about that. This small town on the
northeast coast of Jamaica is in full festive spirit. While Port Antonio does not make for as
impressive dateline as Istanbul or Kathmandu, where I have smoked the same 2010
Christmas Pipe I am now smoking, this has the potential to be a night to
remember, or it could be another boring travel night consisting of me crashing
as soon as I publish my entry. We’ll
have to see how it plays out and if I decide to smoke anything besides
tobacco. This has been a very stressful
day for sure, but I make it a policy not to indulge in vices out of stress,
rather preferring my vices to be used to supplement relaxation, rather than
attempting to create it.
I am now
sitting at the same place where I had my fried chicken lunch, far more lively
at night, smoking my 2010 Christmas Pipe and sipping on some Appleton Estate rum
as I look out onto the waterfront and listen to the local music. While I have been maintaining a hard line
that the only reason for this trip was because of The List, it is moments like
this that make travel enjoyable. These
are the moments I remember more than the Plaques and ceremonial pictures. It is good to be out of the hotel, which
turned out to be a really bad decision for reasons that will soon become
clear.
After I closed at Moore Town, I
walked back towards the town and soon found a local who sold some
trinkets. I got a necklace and a
bracelet as those were the only souvenirs to be found in town. As I walked with him to his house, I saw more
of the cultural value for which this was inscribed. I then walked back to my car and took the
thankfully short drive back to my hotel, arriving right at dusk.
There was a market stand a couple of blocks
from the hotel that sold souvenirs, so I walked there in search of a Blue
Mountains keychain. There were multiple
vendors, but none had it. I had to settle
for a Jamaican flag keychain with the colors in blue instead of green. That was as close as I was going to find
apparently. I walked back to the hotel,
and that was when the fun began. By this
point, I had a severe headache due to a lack of caffeine, the only caffeine I
had had all day being the cup of coffee with breakfast.
When I got to the hotel, they were clearly
setting up for something with additional Christmas decorations. I asked for a cup of coffee, and someone went
to get it. The next half hour was
interesting, to say the least. I asked
at least three different people, multiple times, about the coffee. Each time, they went to the kitchen but didn’t
come back. I also learned that there was
going to be a corporate event so that the dining room would be closed. Further, if I wanted the daily special (read:
local) as opposed to the regular dishes (read: American), I would need to wait
an hour for it. Either way, they would
need to bring the food up to my room due to the dining room being closed. That was, um, less than ideal. Finally, after half an hour, my much-needed
coffee came, and I drank the first cup before bringing the second cup to the
room.
When I got to my room, I saw two
chairs of Christmas decorations outside my room, making it very difficult to
get into my room, especially with my bag and the coffee. That was fun.
My plan was to take a nap before dinner, but that was prevented by a
number of factors, including the temperature of the room, the loud music
downstairs for the party, and multiple emails from my mother causing my phone
to chirp. I had not yet fallen asleep by
8 PM when the room service finally came.
I had asked for a Red Stripe beer, but that was not brought with the
food. The server then went to get it,
but he came back empty-handed. It turned
out they didn’t have any cold Red Stripe.
Would I like Heineken? I told him
to bring me the Red Stripe and a cup of ice.
I again tried to fall back to sleep, but to no avail.
My food was getting cold, so I decided that I
would have my dinner. It was a home-style
fish (whole fish) with all the local fixings.
It was decent, nothing special.
The beer was better. After I ate,
I filled up my Christmas Pipe and headed out towards the Christmas music I was
now hearing, but that was inside a dark club.
The place where I had lunch seemed the better option to write my entry. I got an Appleton Estate and went back to the
same table, where I sat down, lit up my 2010 Christmas Pipe, and proceeded to
write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and see where
the night leads.
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