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Sep. 11th, 2006 06:07 pmTyping on other people’s keyboards is always a little harder than I expect. Different keys are sticky! Some keys are slightly moved! I have to type a lot harder! ANYWAY. Now that I have my hands correctly lined up on the keys- A little more news and excitement from Jamaica.
I am frustrated by a capital city (Capital! Of a whole country!) that has no mail service on Saturday. I made the assumption that if the bric-a-brak on the walls of Pizza Hut was the same- then the hours of FedEx would also be American. Wrong.
I went to town this weekend- Kingston, the “town” on island, the big bad capital city we’re warned about, and kept away from (Holy COW the travel restrictions. Knowing that they’re in place for my own good does not make them chafe less.). Meh. It only increases the appeal, really. The big crowded crush of people in Parade, buying clothes, food, live chickens, catching city busses that run routes across town, or country busses that are oversized vans and head out in all directions. The sparkling newness of New Kingston, that wouldn’t look out of place in any upscale neighborhood. The strange reminders of how close we are to the States- Texaco gas stations, KFC on every third corner. The strange reminders of how it’s NOT the States- billboards in Patios, street vendors with machetes.
I went to town for the quarterly meetings; a chance for Peace Corps volunteers to gather and share information (At least I’m fairly certain that’s what we were there to do.), complain, and drink. Being new, I didn’t have information to share- I try not to complain too much as it’s unproductive and wildly annoying- and I don’t drink. All in all, I feel like I mostly missed the point, though that in no way kept me from having a lovely time.
Mostly I was astonished at the bureaucracy of it all. (Bureaucracy and the inability to mail packages on Saturday.) Charters and constitutions and organizations and rules rules rules. I suppose some people find it comforting, to be away from home and still understand the exact process for electing representatives to the volunteer advisory committee. It honestly blows my mind, but I’ve always had a pretty hard time with organization anyway.
I came back from town to an echoingly large house, that is, for the next few weeks, mine-all-mine. It’s very far from the nearest town, a sort of converted plantation house/ bed and breakfast type thing. And all night, I kept mistaking night sounds for music. The frogs have an amazing sense of rhythm and deep basso profundo voices, overlaid with chirping lizards, and the full compliment of cicadas, crickets, and other late night voices. There is some creature out there that sounds exactly like a beeping microwave, and another that reminds me of an old camera shutter. My favorite is the bird that makes a sound like blowing over the mouth of a bottle- like an owl, but longer, quieter.
I may be alone but it’s hard to think of myself as lonely when it sounds like I’m in the middle of a city block.
I am frustrated by a capital city (Capital! Of a whole country!) that has no mail service on Saturday. I made the assumption that if the bric-a-brak on the walls of Pizza Hut was the same- then the hours of FedEx would also be American. Wrong.
I went to town this weekend- Kingston, the “town” on island, the big bad capital city we’re warned about, and kept away from (Holy COW the travel restrictions. Knowing that they’re in place for my own good does not make them chafe less.). Meh. It only increases the appeal, really. The big crowded crush of people in Parade, buying clothes, food, live chickens, catching city busses that run routes across town, or country busses that are oversized vans and head out in all directions. The sparkling newness of New Kingston, that wouldn’t look out of place in any upscale neighborhood. The strange reminders of how close we are to the States- Texaco gas stations, KFC on every third corner. The strange reminders of how it’s NOT the States- billboards in Patios, street vendors with machetes.
I went to town for the quarterly meetings; a chance for Peace Corps volunteers to gather and share information (At least I’m fairly certain that’s what we were there to do.), complain, and drink. Being new, I didn’t have information to share- I try not to complain too much as it’s unproductive and wildly annoying- and I don’t drink. All in all, I feel like I mostly missed the point, though that in no way kept me from having a lovely time.
Mostly I was astonished at the bureaucracy of it all. (Bureaucracy and the inability to mail packages on Saturday.) Charters and constitutions and organizations and rules rules rules. I suppose some people find it comforting, to be away from home and still understand the exact process for electing representatives to the volunteer advisory committee. It honestly blows my mind, but I’ve always had a pretty hard time with organization anyway.
I came back from town to an echoingly large house, that is, for the next few weeks, mine-all-mine. It’s very far from the nearest town, a sort of converted plantation house/ bed and breakfast type thing. And all night, I kept mistaking night sounds for music. The frogs have an amazing sense of rhythm and deep basso profundo voices, overlaid with chirping lizards, and the full compliment of cicadas, crickets, and other late night voices. There is some creature out there that sounds exactly like a beeping microwave, and another that reminds me of an old camera shutter. My favorite is the bird that makes a sound like blowing over the mouth of a bottle- like an owl, but longer, quieter.
I may be alone but it’s hard to think of myself as lonely when it sounds like I’m in the middle of a city block.
