Jamaica.... Round 1, Part 1
When I came back to California from that summer trip to New York, I had the Caribbean on my mind. I knew in reality, I didn't have the money to go, but I didn't care. I had to. I worked extra hard that fall and was able to save up enough money to make a ten day trip to Kingston, Jamaica.
Before I made my trek, I will be completely honest about the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. Sure, I definitely had my share of adventurous moments in my previous years, but this one probably topped all of them. I did have some acquaintances that I knew in the dance world that had gone before who gave me their share of advice, but none of that seemed to calm my nerves. Most of them gave me warnings heeding of danger. "Don't go anywhere unless you're in a taxi", "make sure you don't leave the house with more than $20 in your pocket", "the classes are expensive", dominated my words of advice. I'm not going to sugar coat it, it definitely felt like I was about to walk into a pit of fire instead of going on a fun dance vacation. My anxiety overpowered my excitement. I thought to myself, "Why am I going again?", and more importantly, "Why did I think this would be a good idea??" After all when you google the 50 most dangerous cities on the planet, you definitely do not need to scroll down that far to get to Kingston. With all good judgement aside, I made my precarious travel plans, and completely winged it.
Despite the fact that I had no budget, no idea how I was going to get around, and absolutely no understanding of patois( Jamaican creole) or Jamaican culture, I surprisingly did make some concrete plans before I left. A friend of a friend originally from San Francisco had moved down there and opened up a hostel for dancers. I figured that was my best bet. If anything went wrong, she would know what to do. I also did have a few friends from Santa Cruz joining me on my journey, (however they too had never been), and had messaged some dancers ahead of time through social media to set up some sort of schedule as best I could.
But nothing could prepare me for what was about to ensue....
When I stepped off the plane at Norman Manley airport all I could feel was heat, exhaustion, and confusion. I had arranged a ride from a driver who was a friend of the hostel owner beforehand. He only communicated in audio messages in a very strong accent, so it was a miracle that I could make out what time he was going to be there. However, between my flight getting delayed two hours, my three hour line in customs, and my lack any trace of cell service, there was no way in hell I was going too be able to meet him in time.
Walking out into the blazing hot sun and collapsing under my bags, I was miraculously able to pull out my phone. Immediately, I had to be on alert. In the 8 seconds it took me to get my phone out of my bag, I was bombarded by a slew of airport taxi drivers waving me down. I was able to creep into a corner with my bags too keep my calm and see if somehow I could get some sort of reception. In a moment of pure marvel, I was able to connect to the one bar airport wifi, and call Autoy ( the driver) through WhatsApp. When he picked up, the only words I could make out was that he was there, waiting, which took me so much by surprise, I couldn't believe it was true. I told him where I was, and saw his car drive up to help me make my escape.
The drive to hostel was literally like being transported to an alien planet. As Autoy spoke in an a language that I didn't quite understand, I gazed out the window to take in my new surroundings. Flashes of bright color sprung up around endless streets filled with vendors, stray dogs, and children. Garbage didn't have a place, and cars didn't seem to follow rules. I've never seen a place where streets could be so packed and empty at the same time. I was so taken aback, I wasn't even sure what to feel. I hadn't slept the night before, but I had never felt so alert.
Before I knew it, we arrived at Belleh House. The hostel was a bright yellow two story apartment building tucked away on a small street off the main road. As Autoy dropped me off in the blazing heat, I rang the bell, and was met by a girl who was a guest at the place. She let me in and told me Charlotte, the host would be back shortly. As I sat in the living room, I fought to keep my eyes open as I took in everything around me and prepared myself for the days ahead. For the first time in a while, I was overwhelmed by a strong sense of unknown....