June 5, 2012

Journal highlights:

• Arrival in Kingston, Jamaica
• Johnny B.
• Devon House, dinner at Norma's on the Terrace, and Usain Bolt's Tracks and Records
• "No money, no honey." - Capt. Claudiu-Florin Crisan

Pictures (apologies for the last two being so dark.  My phone doesn't have a flash):

A sailboat

Lighthouse

Bird perched on the crane

Pilot boat

Fishing and Coast Guard vessels

Coast Guard vessels

The pilot who brought us into the harbor

Approaching the dock

Shore crane

Mooring lines are really big ropes

The mall

Left to right: two unknown Jamaicans, Harvey, Capt. Crisan, and Eric

Devon House

Dinner at Norma's on the Terrace.  Left to right: Eric, Capt. Crisan, Harvey, and myself

Usain Bolt's Tracks and Records.  Left to right: Eric, Johnny B., Capt. Crisan, and Harvey

Videos:

Docking approach in Kingston

(the full journal entry follows.  If you don't see it on this page, click the "Read more »" link below)


I am awakened by my alarm at 0600.  Rising, I take my shower, dress, and break fast on fried eggs (runny, like yesterday), sausage (which we'd call smoked sausage in the US), and coffee.  After breakfast, I run my first load of laundry (having stayed two days in Savannah before embarking, I had a few extra dirties) and set up a chair on F deck, in the shade of the bridge deck above.

Around 0945, I spy a sailboat, too small to be in the deep sea on its own.  I run back to my cabin, grabbing my camera and camcorder, and take several pictures and a video.  I also take several photographs of birds flying around the ship, including one perched on the forward crane.

At 1000, I spot a lighthouse on a shore, which I later discover, to my excitement, to be the northeast coast of Jamaica.  I stay all morning on the deck: reading, listening to music, and taking pictures, venturing inside only to run a second load of laundry and take my lunch at noon - meatloaf, mashed potatoes (real, not powdered), yellowed broccoli, a banana, and some fresh chicken noodle soup (made with macaroni noodles).

After lunch, I put away my laundry and return to the deck, taking more pictures and videos as we make our way into port, where we arrive around 1430.  Docking the ship takes a great deal more time than I expected, which I later learn was due to high winds (from the captain himself, who asserts that wind is the greatest threat to a sailing vessel).

While waiting for the immigration officer to arrive, I finish reading Robinson Crusoe and nap until around 1630, when (my door being open), I see Harvey walking towards the deck.  He sees me and remarks something about never knowing how long it will take before Immigration checks you out, to which I respond that it was to be expected, since this is not a pleasure cruise.

Shortly thereafter, my fellow passengers beckon me to follow them into the ship's office, on A deck, and to bring not only a copy of my passport, but also a passenger manifest (which they give me) and my ship's passenger ID.  This last part confuses me, since I have not been issued a passenger ID yet.  The captain meets us in the office a few minutes later and, realizing my dilemma, calls down the 3rd officer to take my picture and print me an ID badge immediately, but not to worry about laminating it since we are pressed for time.  This being done, we (my fellow passengers, the captain, and myself) disembark from the ship, catch a bus to the gate, and meet our driver - a young Jamaican in his early 20s, who came recommended by the port agent, and who introduces himself as "Johnny B."

Having spent a year in Kingston 46 years ago, Harvey asks to drive down Harbor Street to see the banking district, and see if any of the places he remembered still exist.  I don't know that we ever actually find the street (though Johnny B. stops at least twice for directions).  We continue on downtown, discovering a traffic jam and two or three fender benders, all of which involve buses.  We had all agreed to see a museum, but Johnny B. tells us that all the museums close at 5PM (it being nearly 6 at this time), so instead we stop at a pharmacy and I buy my aspirin (but forget the glue).  We look around the mall for a bit and then agree that it would be nice to visit a park.

The place Johnny B takes us is very nice indeed, the Devon House, and here I buy a postcard, but do not mail it for want of stamps.  We walk around and end up eating at a restaurant in the park, called Norma's on the Terrace, run by a very pleasant white woman.  The captain orders shepherd's pie and appears quite dejected when they bring it out (which I attribute to his mistaken belief that it is served in a pie crust), but then declares it is very good once he tries it.  Harvey has oxtail, Eric orders lasagna, and I have corned pork with steamed vegetables and red beans and rice.  Except for our Frenchman, we all begin our meals with something called "pepper pot soup" which is excellent.  There, I have a Red Stripe and a rum on the rocks, Harvey a Red Stripe and a glass of Merlot, the captain a single glass of wine (which he does not finish), and Eric two or three rum-and-cokes.  This takes quite a bit of time, and our driver calls the captain at least twice during dinner to ask if we are okay, having stayed in his car in the parking lot the whole time.

Leaving the Devon House, we ask Johnny B. where is a good place to get a drink, and he takes us to Usain Bolt's Tracks and Records, a cosmopolitan sports bar.  There, Harvey and I each have another Red Stripe, Eric a rum and coke, and the captain a mixed drink (of which he only drinks half - we are departing tonight and he still has duties to perform).  Feeling sorry about leaving him at dinner, we invite Johnny B. to come with us; he has a Smirnoff Black, but stays some time after finishing it, since he was hired to drive us.  The place has free wifi, and I email my father in response to an earlier text message he had sent me, which I was unable to reply to by the same means.  After this is done, we return to the harbor and board the ship.

The captain is a kind and generous fellow, having paid for our drinks at the bar, as well as paying our driver.  I am resolved to find some means of repaying him in kind before my departure.  He has promised a barbecue on the aft deck after Manzanillo, where he said there is nothing worth seeing and we will not be getting off the ship, although we will be stopped there for some time to have the hull cleaned.

Eric, it seems, fancies himself quite the ladies' man, for he is always flirting with the girls no matter where we go, even taking his picture with several of them - though I cannot say even one of them gave any resistance (must be the French charm, I guess).  I've promised to find him a girlfriend when we reach Tahiti.

It is now 2300 and I am tired.  I will not venture to stay up for our departure, as I did in Savannah.  All in all, a surprisingly good and eventful day.  The wind was considerably stronger today - this was the first time I've had to use my sea legs.  The chief officer asked me this morning if I was feeling sea sick.  I told him that although I had been given medicine, I was feeling no ill effects and it would take stronger waves to make me sick, although I was stumbling around a lot because I was not used to being on a rolling vessel. (Note: per my observations of the ship's clinometer, we rolled heavier on our approach to Kingston than at any other time on the voyage)

Kingston reminds me a lot of Mexico.  The city looks like the rougher parts of Hermosillo (except for Devon House), only everyone is black instead of hispanic, and all the signs are in English instead of Spanish.  The people drive like in Puebla - the roads don't always have lines painted on them, and there is an unwritten rule that you must press your horn whenever you press a pedal - gas or brake.  The people there are friendly (the one exception being a Rastafarian who, seeing us, complained loudly to himself about white people oppressing him and taking away his rights).  The coastline is gorgeous, and I can understand why some people never leave the Caribbean once they visit it.

Things I've learned:

• The Captain's commentary on why people work at sea, especially those with families: "No money, no honey."
• Filipinos make less money per contract than Europeans, due to the lower cost of living in the Philippines
• In both France and Romania, people don't drink good wine in restaurants because it's too expensive - 3 or 4 times what you would pay to buy it in a store