Christmas in Kingston

 

This tree was from the last place I had in Türkiye.  That was the only apartment that had any decorations for the holidays. It was only one of the things that made that place better than this new one. 

Josef briefly showed me around and let me know that I have access to the pool out back.  He lived on the property so he was available for any assistance.  He wished me a good stay and left me to it.

I’m not a fan of studio apartments.  I don’t like seeing my unmade bed when I’m eating or cooking – that’s just a me thing.  While the kitchen in the place was decent enough (lots of counterspace which is a rarity outside of the U.S.) the rest of the apartment was only okay. 

I will say that the little accent chairs were comfortable enough for a rest while I calmed myself down.

And, yeah, it took a minute.  The okayness of the place just wasn’t making me feel any better about this trip.  But it was what it was.  I would have to figure it out.

This wasn’t my first choice of Airbnb.  That first host never confirmed my reservation.  It wasn’t my second choice.  That host sent me a message saying that he couldn’t accommodate me.  This was my third choice when I just wanted to have a place to stay.  I should have taken that as a bad omen.

The internet worked the first night I arrived … then refused to work for the next two days.  I had purchased an esim for my phone for the island as I had for Türkiye, Costa Rica, and Portugal.  Except this one refused to work.  Sigh.

Kingston isn’t a pretty city.  It’s kind of run down and everything is covered in chains with bars on the windows.  It reminded me way too much of San Jose.  The city is surrounded by beauty, though.  The mountains rise around the edges and there are gorgeous flowers and plants everywhere. 

There’s a shopping center in walking distance to the apartment.  It’s not an easy or fun walk as you have to cross a very busy street with few crosswalks, no pedestrian lights, and traffic that drives on the other side of the street.  But once I reached the local internet store and waited in a stupidly long line, I tried to buy a couple of sim cards for the phone and for the WIFI hotspot I’d bought in Portugal.  The lady was able to install the card in my phone but couldn’t get it to work on the hotspot.  Okay.

I messaged the host to let him know about the WIFI and began using the phone as a hotspot.  Not ideal, but it would have to do. 

That shopping center also hosts a decent sized grocery store.  It seemed very Americanized with more variety in products than I’ve seen in most places in Europe.  While U.S. currency is accepted by cabbies and some restaurants, it’s still best to use Jamaican money in the grocery stores.  Tap to pay is accepted in most places as well.  1 USD = 156.08 JMD

I visited the Bob Marley Museum one day as it was about a mile from my apartment.  I just looked around the outside since I wasn’t that interested in going in.  Yes, that man’s legacy is all over the island, but since I’m not that big of a fan, I passed on giving him any money.

Popeye’s is big there as is KFC.  I was stunned to see a Wendy’s not far from my place.  Out of sheer nostalgia, I had to have lunch there once.  The wait times for these places (and for everywhere) are insane.  It’s just expected that everything will take a long time.

Case in point: I went to the other major grocery store in the area.  It was another cramped space full of people shopping for the Christmas meal the next day.  I was only there to pick up a few items but since there is no 10 items or under line (and certainly no automated checkouts) I had to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  I kid you not, it took me an hour to get through the checkout line.  And again, everyone just expects long wait times.  I heard a woman pass by saying she should have gotten there before 9.  This was early in the morning but apparently it still wasn’t early enough.

The apartment came with a set of knives sharp enough to cut through time.  I’m not complaining – most places barely have a single decent knife.  This only became an issue when I was doing the dishes one night and sliced a big chunk out of my finger.  Blood everywhere on the day before Christmas. 

(Uh, sidenote: a small first aid kit is essential during long-term travel.  You’ll never know when you’ll need a band aid and some anti-bacterial ointment.)

The whole experience was just draining.  The air felt heavy in my lungs as I walked.  The constant honking of horns on the busy streets quickly gave me a headache (cabs would honk at every pedestrian they saw looking for a fare).  The beaches in the area were miles away.  As the week progressed, that wrong foot that me and Jamaica started on quickly grew gangrenous.  I contemplated cutting it off with one of those samurai swords disguised as kitchen knives.   

Still, there were a couple of … I won’t call them highlights, but at least they were something.  I’d gotten the last of the American food out of my system that week so no more funny tummy (thank goodness).  The cough was slowly going away.  I did get some writing done between bouts of sitting by the pool to read.  The internet eventually came back on and I had no more problems with it for the rest of the week.  I slept surprisingly well in that place – so much so that my bedtime slipped from 10 p.m. down to 8.  I was not feeling Kingston at all and just wanted to sleep.

Josef, the host, messaged me on Christmas morning saying he had a present for me.  We arranged for him to come to the apartment that afternoon to deliver it.  Before that time arrived, he asked if I would be interested in some of the brunch his family had served.  That was such a nice offer!  I said sure and he later came down with his sister-in-law carrying some chocolate, homemade punch, and a plastic container full of food.  A highly appreciated Christmas present.

December 26 was moving day.  After agonizing for days, I decided to give Jamaica another shot.  Kingston was not the right choice for me, but that was my fault for not planning better.  I figured I’d take a chance on a part of the island that was known for its beaches.