Jamaica Hot Hot Hot! - Day Three

An early morning, that ended up being later than intended - and we made our way into downtown Kingston in order to catch a bus out to St. Thomas - the country! The bus was much more comfortable than I expected but the wait . . . whoo! Sellers were taking advantage of the time by walking up and down the aisles, outside around the windows, making their product known. The bus has two seats on one side, one on the other and a little fold up stool in the middle. After all the seats were filled I thought it'd be about time to go but they want these things packed! By the time we took off each row had 5 people sitting in it and then people cramped in, standing by the door. Thankfully, we got there early enough to not have it that bad. A window seat for me. Passing through downtown you get a feel of the city life there and the age of it. Pretty much all of the buildings are cement. As we drove along, slowly leaving city life and entering the country the buildings turned into shacks with scrap metal fences and roofs - not the first I'd seen, but definitely in greater abundance. My grampa used to live in a home like that. Everynow and then along the road you see policemen standing on the stoops, leaning against a wall, machine gun in hand, held across the their chests. People seem to pay them no mind though. A fixture almost. Lorna told us yesterday upon being vexed that some cop cars were on the highway where they aren't usually that the police have their places, and they're 'supposed' to stay there and not move so that everyone knows where they are - an interesting way to patrol!

The wind was just blowing in my face, so strong, the dust, the smell of leaves and cooking and the ocean, the mountains, high and luscious - shades of green, shapes of plants that remind one of paradise, and on the other side the ocean. Rich, rich blues, aquas, teal - white caps crashing along the rock shore and spraying fishing boats laid up against the trees. Slowing down to pass through the little towns along the way as the 'caller' hangs out the bus door seeing if anyone wants a ride people idle along the road - walking, talking, leaning - a lot of leaning seems to go on. And among them, goats, stray dogs, roosters - everyone going there own way, in their own time - no rushing. I noticed throughout the day that Clinton and I would ask the time or how long a walk, how long a bus ride - and Selena (the girl we went with) never knew - 'cause I guess it doesn't really matter too much, as long as it's not dark, it's all good. Jamaica time, I started to feel it wash over me, time didn't really seem to matter, could have been an hour, could have been ten minutes - not really much difference.

When the bus took us as far as it would go we walked through the town of Port Morant to find a 'taxi' to take us to Selena's Auntie's to drop off our bags before heading up to the Fountains. By taxi, what I really mean is a bunch of young guys with cars who call and coax and vie to be the one who gets to take us. After choosing one a new type of journey was on! Going up to the Spring, along 'relative' road (named so because pretty much every other house belong to one of Selena's cousins, or aunties or uncles) the driver had to honk around every bend to warn any walkers, bikers, or cars since this path up the mountain was one lane for must of the way, and curvy! Blind bends abounded.

We made it to the top and began our short hike up to the springs. Sitting down in the first pool (while, by the first pool - it was far too hot to actually sit in) we were accosted (somewhat) by men trying to give us massages. One man took Selena's towel, dumped it in the hot water and started using it to massage me, draping it over my back, my shoulders despite our protests that we only had money for the taxi and were not going to pay them. Eventually they stopped when they finally listened to what we were saying adn we headed on down the stream to the next hotspring. The beauty of it! There's hardly more to say. This stream was in the middle of a tropical rainforest - a bamboo branch reached across the rocks on either side where another pipe let the hot, sulfuric water fall down, the bamboo spreading the small cascade out and making it easier to bear the heat. Even so, if you were under a semi heavy stream you couldn't just stand but had to do a little dance to in order to stand it. A good dance though, a sway, a turn. Flowing around like the coursing water flowing around and down past our feet. And you can drink it too! One of the men warned us though - it makes you burp. It's ok though, he says you need to heal the inside as well as the outside - all the people were massaging, beating the water against themselves - it's good for your skin, we gotta let it be good for our insides too!

After spending some time there I, always itching to explore, suggested we go on up the river. A couple of the locals warned us of it, saying it might get deep or dangerous but I figured if that was the case, we'd just turn back before we reached that. So on we went, and am I ever glad we did. Away from the crowd it was so much better, to be able to just see nature, to smell it, to feel it, to hear it. Tall tall trees, palm, bananna, cocunut, breadfruit, ackee, and more I don't know. Black rocks with rich green moss growing on them, water flowing and bubbling, offering places to lay back and get massaged by the pressure, offering little pools of water so fresh, so cool, so clean you can drink it, and you just want to lay down in it, letting it wash over you. We took many a photo moment too! And then the sun came out, blessings! And with it such a smell, pungent and fresh and balmy. As I waded around in one of the pools, large rocks around me, my hair out and floating, the sun shining through the leaves above, glistening on the drops from a quick, quick shower I felt like a goddess from ancient myths - relaxing and enjoying the tropical paradise surrounding me.

Oh, and speaking of smells, the weed smells so good here! And it's everywhere, literally everywhere - I thought Vancouver was bad for that but it's nothing. And often in Canada it has a kinda rotting smell - but hear it's so sweet, so poignant and warm, and the people will be selling you something, or sitting on the curb, walking along - just smoking their joints - no concern at all. (Don't worry now, I'm just enjoying the scent as I pass by - no smoking up for me.)

When we headed back to the fountains we chilled (well, with the heat of the water) for a bit more and then took our leave after some man came up who was just yelling and going on like he was crazy claiming someone stole the machete he borrowed in the morning. Some other men and Selena were kinda translating for us as I couldn't make out much of it. Waiting at the top of the hill as we got a bit dried off and cleaned up we were offered some Jack fruit by another of Selena's cousins I think. It's good! I'd never heard of it before but it's yellow and sweet and juicy - unfortunately though - it turned out to be another allergy to add to Clinton's list. Luckily none of his are fatal. Very, when it first started to irritate him I was scared - up there in the middle of nowhere practically. On the way back down relative hill Clinton, whose skin was itchy was hoping for a rainfall to cleanse him off - and he got it! Not quite a downpour but I'd say we were soaked through in less then a minute. Big fat raindrops came down on us as the local children laughed from under the eaves. Clinton was loving it though, spreading his arms to the water, wiping his skin down with the warm water. I was certainly liking it - concern for the camera in my bed forced me to not really break free though.

Back down in the village Selena took us to her Uncle Oney's where there were kids in abundance and we got to have fresh coconut gelly, and then scoop out the 'meat' afterwards. The liquid was sweet and warm and the 'meat' soft and gelly like and smooth as it goes down. He showed us the famous Jamaican coffee bean after a bit, we were off back to Selena's auntie. She had expected us to stay the night but plans changed and so she said we at least had to stay for dinner. It was oxtail, stew peas and rice - a very traditional Jamaican dinner - there was something else in it though - I think an ox foot? Neither of us ate ours, wrapped them up in our napkins - I just couldn't do it, I would have if the family'd been sitting with us but it was just the two of us at the table. I imagine though, it might have been a special piece of meat or a delicacy. I remember mom telling me of when she first came to Jamaica and was served chicken stew - there were two feet in it and they were reserved for her as the guest of honour.

Selena's cousins entertained us some - the eldest was amazing with spinning the basketball - Clinton's got a video of it on facebook and I enlisted the youngest, Oriane, to help me find lizards to take pictures of (He's eight - such a sweet boy - looks like he's 12) and we got to talking so later on he took Clinton and me to the Botanical Gardens where we saw massive trees! Just massive. It's hard to judge the size from the picture of the biggest one because we were standing too far in front- but I've seen pretty big trees in Vancouver and I think these were bigger.

Walking back Clinton made a comment about how all of the people just had our eyes on us as we were passing by. Oriane replied that it was because they just weren't used to seeing white people. That's right, we're considered white people. Haha, in Canada no one would call us white unless it was a comment about our personality (well, not Clinton, but me) but here we're 'white'. It's true though - I felt so pale when we were up at the springs in our bathing suits, my legs so pale they were practically reflecting!