12/11/16,
“The Return Journey”
Norman
Manley International Airport, Jamaica
And so my
time in Jamaica comes to an end. I have
eaten my last bite of jerk chicken, and soon the Blue Mountains will be nothing
but a distant memory. I have succeeded
at what I set out to do, and I can check off another entry on The List, but I
am glad to be going home. In fact, I
arrived at the airport over four hours before my flight. I took my time in the morning, and I allowed
myself a leisurely drive back to the airport, along with making stops, but this
trip was such a singularly-designed trip, I just had an abundance of spare
time. If there was an earlier flight, I
would be on it, but I suppose I can do here whatever I would have done at home,
and the view is not bad, to say the least.
I have come to realize that I probably did more driving on the left than on the
right over the past six months. Between
this trip and the two to Britain, I spent a lot of time driving on the left,
and it no longer fazes me. However, this
is not England. The only challenge
driving in England presents is driving on the left itself, but the roads there
are good roads, and the drivers are cautious.
The same cannot be said of Jamaica.
The roads are bad and narrow and winding, and the drivers are
reckless. It is an island where no one
seems to be in a rush to do anything, except drive. I wish they showed food preparation and
dealing with paperwork the same urgency they showed driving. It would have made for a much more enjoyable
trip.
Another issue I have with Jamaica
is that they have some of the best coffee in the world, but they don’t serve it. Every place I went to have coffee was just
Nescafe. What a missed opportunity. I suppose the cultures that grow the best
coffee are not the cultures that like to drink it. Fennoscandia has the biggest coffee drinkers
in the world, but its climate is not conducive to growing coffee. The Spanish Caribbean both grows and drinks
coffee, but the English Caribbean does not.
They don’t even drink much tea in the English Caribbean.
The beer and rum here, though, is good, and
it’s readily available. Reader, I often
get asked for travel advice, so I’ll let out a little secret. In fact, this might be my number one travel
tip. Drink the local beer. Always.
Do not go on a trip and drink an imported beer. Almost every country in the world makes a
beer that is more or less similar to Budweiser, and it’s always good. The local experience only makes it
better. You can drink your microbrews
when you get home. Just try the local
beer when you travel. All right, that’s all
I have to say about Jamaica, and I will now recount the events of the day, even
though it is my tradition to recount the Return Journey in its entirety in my
closing entry. Today was technically
entirely the Return Journey, but I will save the journey from the airport to my
apartment for that entry.
After I closed
last night, no adventures occurred. I
went back to my apartment and did some schoolwork before going to sleep. I woke up around 9 AM and went down for
breakfast. I had to check-out of the
hotel by noon, and I saw no reason to leave any earlier. I had plenty of time. I went down for breakfast, which consisted of
traditional local fare: jerk chicken, eggs with fish, and terrible coffee. I was disappointed.
After breakfast, I went up to my room and
smoked my trusty Ardor as I continued my schoolwork. I then packed and got ready and left the
hotel right at noon. The main road that
goes back to Kingston is A3/A4, which is what they consider a major
highway. There is a road called B1 that
cuts through Blue Mountains National Park.
I inquired at the front desk about that road, I was told not to take it unless
I had 4WD, especially with the inclement weather. That became a hard no. Instead, I would go back the way I came. I gassed up and got some more terrible coffee
before hitting the road again.
I lit up
a Graycliff and stopped at a town called Annotto Bay in search of lunch after
the cigar. Almost no place was
open. I found a bar that said they could
fry up a fish for me if I wanted to wait.
That was quite an experience.
Everyone was smoking, and I do not mean tobacco, even the cook. It took almost an hour for my food to be
ready, and I got a Red Stripe beer to go with the fish. As the food was coming, I lit up a
Partagas. The fish was incredibly spicy,
but it was good.
After the meal, I got
back on the road, and I soon came across a portion of the road that was
partially washed out. That was fun. As I was driving, I realized that I couldn’t
yet properly claim the natural portion of the WHS, but the National Park was
right alongside the road for part of the drive.
Eventually, as I was finishing the Partagas, I found a place where I
could pull off and Officially claim the natural scenery of the WHS. I walked down to the creek and took my
ceremonial picture before ditching the cigar and heading back to the car. From there, it was straight to the airport,
and I had a Nub along the way.
I arrived
at the airport around 4:10 PM. My flight
was not until 8:48 PM. I would have a
lot of time to kill, and I learned that there was not a smoking lounge inside
the airport. I got my boarding pass and then
went to a place called Island Grill for an early dinner. It looked to be some kind of chain. They had jerk pork on the weekends, so I
asked for that. Unfortunately, after I
paid, they told me it was sold out. They
could give me jerk chicken instead and refund for the difference, which they
gave me in cash. That was actually a
boon, since I will need the cash for my coffee later, having used up the paltry
amount of local currency I got from the ATM yesterday. I had fries and a type of bread called
festival with the chicken, and it was all quite good.
After my meal, I headed outside to a bench in
view of the Blue Mountains, where I lit up another Ardor and proceeded to write
this entry, which I will now close so that I can get my coffee and finish my
schoolwork before I have to go to the boarding gate.
En route,
NYC Taxi 4L21
I suppose
there is not much left to record, and the driver speeding like crazy, so I
won’t have much time to write, anyway.
The Return Journey was entirely unadventurous and highly
frustrating. After I closed, I went to
get my coffee, which I got along with a bag of beans to take home. I then went back outside to work on my
schoolwork and drink my coffee while I smoked a Gurkha, but I had to resort to
using my phone’s signal for Wi-Fi, and it was very frustrating.
After I finished my cigar, I headed to the
gate, and there was no line at security, which made it a breeze. I went up to the duty-free shops and
departure lounge. It looked exactly as I
remembered it, and I went first to the tobacco shop, but the only Cubans they
had were overpriced Cohibas, so I took a pass.
I then got two bottles of rum, one for drinking and one for mixing. They had the same packing station in the back
as I remembered from last time. I had a
small amount of cash left, and I had no need to bring any home, so I decided to
get another coffee, but I looked around first to explore all of my
options. The departure lounge is set
separately from the boarding gates, and I was told that the boarding procedures
for my flight would begin shortly, so I should hurry to get my coffee. Spoiler alert: it was almost an hour before
boarding began.
I got my coffee, Blue
Mountain coffee, using the last of my Jamaican banknotes, and they did
something I hated. They were out of drip
coffee, so they made me an Americano with the espresso machine. I never, ever, ever want to drink Americano
coffee. I would much rather they just
give me the espresso straight without the addition of hot water. I asked her to remake just the espresso. It was quite strong and good. My electronics were dangerously low now, and
it was a bit of a process to figure out how to charge them. Eventually, I moved to a spot with a working
outlet, but I thought I heard my boarding announcement almost as soon as I sat
down. Long story short, it was a very
frustrating process, and I was barely able to charge my electronics, despite
having had, in theory, over half an hour to do so.
We went to the gates, and I took a picture of
our board, which caused the woman sitting under it to cover her face and turn
away in fear. This was the exact same
reaction I had when I took my picture at lunch.
I wondered if it was a cultural thing, something about a picture
stealing the soul. I was soon aboard, and
much to my relief, I discovered that there was an outlet under my seat. I also learned that the Critics’ Choice
Awards were tonight. I followed along as
the awards were announced, with La La Land and, surprisingly, Jackie dominating
the night. It was a frustrating wait
until I was connected to the Wi-Fi, but I was able to work on my schoolwork and
updating my travel lists until I got a connection, finishing the schoolwork as
soon as we were connected, just in time to see La La Land announced for Best
Picture.
We soon landed and, thanks to
Global Entry and the terminal being almost empty, I was in the taxi line 20
minutes after we landed. I got in a
taxi, and we were on our way. Once we
left the airport, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close,
along with closing out this trip. There
are seven continents. I have been to six
of them. Only one remains. Next stop: Australia.
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