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i've been reading this woman's blog for a while - she quit her corporate attorney job and hit the road - writing travel articles and doing photography - she spent 5 months in jamaica and recently returned
<span style="font-weight: bold">Travel, Smoke and Mirrors: When You Fall Out of Love With A Place</span>
by Lilly
You travel the world and one day, you find a place you love. You can’t quite explain it, but it keeps drawing you back, tugging at your heart. So you come back - once, twice, three times, and then you come back again and stay for five months. You feel a little strange towards the fourth and fifth month, because by then you’re more of a local and you’ve started to see how life really is in this place you love. It’s almost like you finally see the truth of the place you’ve chosen as a temporary home. But still, you’re not quite ready to pay heed to that feeling and so you brush it aside.
Well, sad to say, but the novelty of Jamaica has worn off. Perhaps it’s the recession and everyone looking to make a dime that has made things and people worse here, or just that I’ve finally been here long enough to see the reality, but frankly, I’m over it. I’m finally seeing Jamaica for what it is. The good as well as the bad. And the bad, is so ugly.
Is it the culture of denigrating women and treating them like sex objects? Men treating women or their wives like interchangeable things, that they drop whenever they’re bored or whenever a new cute white tourist comes into town? Or is it the dancehall songs that shout nasty lyrics like “poom poom” (sex) and “you better keep it tight, keep it tight” or “bend over, bend over, bend over”? Must I really stand there and listen to this garbage, and witness women degrading themselves at parties or in clubs, bending over and grinding their behinds on the man, girating like they are having sex in public, while the man just sits back, his legs spread out, and watches?
Or even still, is it the never-ending sexual innuendos and getting hit on by every single or married man, or actually any male with a penis, most of whom are only looking for a way out of the island, the woman’s money (key word: “invest”), and don’t give a hoot about the woman herself? And must I really watch countless and countless white women tourists (usually the unattractive, heavy-set types) fool themselves into a relationship with a Jamaican, who is just using them for what they have and a potential greencard and an “investment”?
Or perhaps it’s the folks you get to meet and become your “friends” - except they’re really only your friends if you bring them new shoes and clothes, or cell phones, or tip them for every little thing they do for you while you are on their island. Because after all, you have money - yes, you are vacationing so you must be rich. And therefore, you must give away the money you worked so hard and saved for half a year to afford a vacation.
And maybe still it’s the incredible number of scam artists running the streets these days, because of these tough times. In my decades of travel, I had never been swindled or conned before. Well, it finally happened. Last weekend was “ATI weekend” in Negril - I’ll spare you a long description and basically say, it’s Jamaican Spring Break. Young Jamaicans come down from every corner of the island (mostly from Kingston), as well as the States to party non-stop for four days. Let me tell you, ATI makes the regular American Spring Break look like kindergarten. By the end of the third day, we were sick and tired of seeing half-to-naked sixteen and eighteen year old girls going to parties in nothing more than their thongs.
In any case, the only positive part of ATI is the live music concerts - and my friends and I wanted to see the Sizzla show on the beach. Two men - one of whom was their so-called “friend” (see description above), came along and told us of this show and said it was only $1,200 JA to get in, and it would be that same evening. Because he was their “friend,” they didn’t suspect anything, and neither did I. Because normally, I would never buy a show ticket or arm band other than from the official source or ticket outlets.
So we bought the arm bands for entry to the show, five of us at $1,200 each (US $15) and off we went that night to the venue - Long Bay Beach Park. Well, we get there and there’s not much happening. Could we have the wrong venue? No we didn’t. We find out from the security at the gate that the show had taken place in the afternoon, Sizzla had already performed, and the entrance fee was actually 500 JA ($5 US). It turns out that we were sold the armbands while the show was already happening.
OK - so we were had. It wasn’t a huge amount - but what made it worse was that this man had supposedly been a “friend” for six years - and my friends had brought him so many gifts over the years. Ironically, the day he sold us the tickets, he was wearing one of the tee-shirts they had bought him the year before.
Of course, I would be remiss not to mention the good parts of Jamaica - the scenery, hands down, the cliffs, the beach, the calmness and peace…the sheer beauty of the countryside. There are also good-hearted Jamaicans - the ones who are not so corrupt and live away from the tourist zones, like in the parish of Saint Elizabeth. And then there’s the chance to hear live reggae music regularly (roots reggae). But now, it’s clear to me: you have to know what you are planning to do when you visit here, and you have to have your guard up all the time - especially as a woman. Perhaps rent a villa or apartment and BYOF (bring your own friends), schedule your own activities and enjoy the beaches, the scenery and the food. Use the place for its true purpose, as another friend noted: calmless, peace and reflection. And then go back home. And then come back if you must.
But living in Jamaica? Not for the faint of heart. And definitely not the ideal place for women…
Within a week of my return, I was honestly ready to go home. If it had not been for my three fabulous friends here with me, I probably would have paid the $150 airline change fee to go home. I was over the bull, over the lies, and over the superficial layer that permeates in developing countries due to the ever-growing rich/poor gap.
But mostly I’m glad the veil is lifted and I saw the reality. Vacation or even sabbaticals are so different from real life. And maybe the key is to keep traveling until you find the right place for you. Perhaps that is the lesson as I continue my travels. I may not have written Jamaica off completely, and I still love parts of it, but I think it will be a good while before I return…
If anyone’s ever felt disillusioned with a place they thought was paradise, I’d really like to hear the stories! Please feel free to share, we could all benefit from it.
<span style="font-weight: bold">Travel, Smoke and Mirrors: When You Fall Out of Love With A Place</span>
by Lilly
You travel the world and one day, you find a place you love. You can’t quite explain it, but it keeps drawing you back, tugging at your heart. So you come back - once, twice, three times, and then you come back again and stay for five months. You feel a little strange towards the fourth and fifth month, because by then you’re more of a local and you’ve started to see how life really is in this place you love. It’s almost like you finally see the truth of the place you’ve chosen as a temporary home. But still, you’re not quite ready to pay heed to that feeling and so you brush it aside.
Well, sad to say, but the novelty of Jamaica has worn off. Perhaps it’s the recession and everyone looking to make a dime that has made things and people worse here, or just that I’ve finally been here long enough to see the reality, but frankly, I’m over it. I’m finally seeing Jamaica for what it is. The good as well as the bad. And the bad, is so ugly.
Is it the culture of denigrating women and treating them like sex objects? Men treating women or their wives like interchangeable things, that they drop whenever they’re bored or whenever a new cute white tourist comes into town? Or is it the dancehall songs that shout nasty lyrics like “poom poom” (sex) and “you better keep it tight, keep it tight” or “bend over, bend over, bend over”? Must I really stand there and listen to this garbage, and witness women degrading themselves at parties or in clubs, bending over and grinding their behinds on the man, girating like they are having sex in public, while the man just sits back, his legs spread out, and watches?
Or even still, is it the never-ending sexual innuendos and getting hit on by every single or married man, or actually any male with a penis, most of whom are only looking for a way out of the island, the woman’s money (key word: “invest”), and don’t give a hoot about the woman herself? And must I really watch countless and countless white women tourists (usually the unattractive, heavy-set types) fool themselves into a relationship with a Jamaican, who is just using them for what they have and a potential greencard and an “investment”?
Or perhaps it’s the folks you get to meet and become your “friends” - except they’re really only your friends if you bring them new shoes and clothes, or cell phones, or tip them for every little thing they do for you while you are on their island. Because after all, you have money - yes, you are vacationing so you must be rich. And therefore, you must give away the money you worked so hard and saved for half a year to afford a vacation.
And maybe still it’s the incredible number of scam artists running the streets these days, because of these tough times. In my decades of travel, I had never been swindled or conned before. Well, it finally happened. Last weekend was “ATI weekend” in Negril - I’ll spare you a long description and basically say, it’s Jamaican Spring Break. Young Jamaicans come down from every corner of the island (mostly from Kingston), as well as the States to party non-stop for four days. Let me tell you, ATI makes the regular American Spring Break look like kindergarten. By the end of the third day, we were sick and tired of seeing half-to-naked sixteen and eighteen year old girls going to parties in nothing more than their thongs.
In any case, the only positive part of ATI is the live music concerts - and my friends and I wanted to see the Sizzla show on the beach. Two men - one of whom was their so-called “friend” (see description above), came along and told us of this show and said it was only $1,200 JA to get in, and it would be that same evening. Because he was their “friend,” they didn’t suspect anything, and neither did I. Because normally, I would never buy a show ticket or arm band other than from the official source or ticket outlets.
So we bought the arm bands for entry to the show, five of us at $1,200 each (US $15) and off we went that night to the venue - Long Bay Beach Park. Well, we get there and there’s not much happening. Could we have the wrong venue? No we didn’t. We find out from the security at the gate that the show had taken place in the afternoon, Sizzla had already performed, and the entrance fee was actually 500 JA ($5 US). It turns out that we were sold the armbands while the show was already happening.
OK - so we were had. It wasn’t a huge amount - but what made it worse was that this man had supposedly been a “friend” for six years - and my friends had brought him so many gifts over the years. Ironically, the day he sold us the tickets, he was wearing one of the tee-shirts they had bought him the year before.
Of course, I would be remiss not to mention the good parts of Jamaica - the scenery, hands down, the cliffs, the beach, the calmness and peace…the sheer beauty of the countryside. There are also good-hearted Jamaicans - the ones who are not so corrupt and live away from the tourist zones, like in the parish of Saint Elizabeth. And then there’s the chance to hear live reggae music regularly (roots reggae). But now, it’s clear to me: you have to know what you are planning to do when you visit here, and you have to have your guard up all the time - especially as a woman. Perhaps rent a villa or apartment and BYOF (bring your own friends), schedule your own activities and enjoy the beaches, the scenery and the food. Use the place for its true purpose, as another friend noted: calmless, peace and reflection. And then go back home. And then come back if you must.
But living in Jamaica? Not for the faint of heart. And definitely not the ideal place for women…
Within a week of my return, I was honestly ready to go home. If it had not been for my three fabulous friends here with me, I probably would have paid the $150 airline change fee to go home. I was over the bull, over the lies, and over the superficial layer that permeates in developing countries due to the ever-growing rich/poor gap.
But mostly I’m glad the veil is lifted and I saw the reality. Vacation or even sabbaticals are so different from real life. And maybe the key is to keep traveling until you find the right place for you. Perhaps that is the lesson as I continue my travels. I may not have written Jamaica off completely, and I still love parts of it, but I think it will be a good while before I return…
If anyone’s ever felt disillusioned with a place they thought was paradise, I’d really like to hear the stories! Please feel free to share, we could all benefit from it.
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