Jamaica Smooth Runnings

We rose early this morning (1st July), because we were too excited about our first trip to Jamaica, just like the parents and children in the Disney ad. It was a trip I had dreamt about, but never quite made for one reason or another, and this was the closest I had ever got to going. With bags, passports, etc, checked and packed, we left for the airport in good time, there were no holdups, so it was just open roads all the way through to the airport car park. We found the APH Car-park with ease and took the coach to the north terminal as planned.

On our arrival at the north terminal we negotiated our way to the Thompson Fly check-in desk. After waiting in line for a few moments, it was our turn to check-in.
“Tickets and passports please” said the voice from behind the desk.
I turned to Crécy and Jackie and said, “Tickets and passports,” interrupting their natter.
I gave the lady my passport and turned to see Crécy franticly searching through her handbag,
Saying, “I am sure I put it in here?” Questioning herself,
“Look again” I said,
She looked and replied, “no its not there”.
My mind was doing summersaults at this point and panic began to set in. As the lady behind the counter sat and watched, commenting occasional “can’t you find it? Have you forgotten it?”
I made a quick search of Crecy’s hand bag, passed it back to her and began searching our luggage, at this point we discussed the possibility going home and returning before the flight, it was now 8:13am and it was 9:30am flight, so that was out of the question, I thought it was all over, the only option was to return home, in the mean time Jackie made a more thorough search than both of us of her handbag and said,
“What is this here?” Showing us an internal pocket,
“Ah that’s it”, said Crécy, “I knew I had put in my bag”.
As she pulled it from her bag you could see the relief on all faces as we realised our holiday was back on, but inside our hearts were still racing.

We collected our boarding passes and made our way though passport control and on to the security screening, as Crécy went though you guessed it, the alarms went off as usual, this is a normal occurrence with her and airport security checks, after removing her belt etc, she was cleared to continue, so I went through into the departure longue and waited for them. A minute or two later I turned to see where they were; only to see they had to go through a second screening system, this time removing their footwear so it could be screened as well, which I some how missed. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever make this trip, but to my surprise the rest of the journey ran smoothly.

On the plane we were given an immigration card to fill out, which had to be presented at Montego Bay Airport (Mo-Bay) for entry into Jamaica (JA). At the airport it became apparent we hadn’t filled them out correctly, so whilst standing in very long queue we completed them. After a short interview or interrogation, depending on your view of their questioning: “How long are you here for? Is this your first visit? Where are you staying? What is the address? Who is responsible for you? She welcomed us to Jamaica and hoped we would enjoy our holiday.” As Crécy and Jackie under went the same interview, a young lad at the next booth who was just 15 was being refused entry because he was travelling alone and had know idea of the address where he’d be staying, or letter with his parents permission. I glad to say we got through with out a hitch.

We exited the airport building into the sweltering heat and sea of people: taxi drivers, red-caps (porters), nationals, visitors, security and police. Our eyes searched for our host, Sharon, Jackie’s sister, who appeared from among the crowd and said, “Hi” and then called our driver from her mobile, whist walking towards the loading bay, we followed dragging our luggage. At the loading bays allsorts of vehicles stopped briefly to collect passengers and their luggage. Our vehicle was an open back pick up truck, so we threw our luggage in the back and the six of us plied into the cab area and headed for Hopewell. I soon discovered the ratchet of the front passenger seat was broken, so I needed to hold on to the dashboard or the front of the seat in order not to crush the person behind me.

As we drove along the road, I was struck by the number of potholes of various sizes and hawkers selling: bottled water, fruit, newspapers, mobile phone chargers, phone cards, etc, in the middle of the road, school children looking very smart in their colourful uniforms, flagging down cars, taxis and buses for a lift home and our driver carefully negotiating all these obstacles. Along the roadside there were wooden shacks - which were shops and some very amusing road signs: Drive, Ride and Walk good, arrive alive don’t drink and drive, speed kills! don’t be in a hurry to enter eternity and want to spend time with your family! slow down. Roy our driver told us the names of different areas we we’re driving through and asked about our visit

An hour or so later we arrived at the MacFarlane Mansion safely, a beautiful house set in the hillside. Jackie gave us a grand tour of the house and introduce us to all the family and afterwards pointed us in the direction of our bedroom, which was about 18 x 24 feet. We relaxed on the veranda for a while, after which Jackie took us to meet the local shopkeeper and purchase some drinks and she took us up to her house to meet one of Jackie’s old school teachers, who was visiting from the States. From there we walked up the hill to meet Jackie’s sister Mamma aka Beryl or Veron, who was having some building work done, on the way we meet a young lady called Gay. Mamma wasn’t in so we returned to the Macfarlane home, un-packed, had dinner and sat on the veranda for the rest of the evening watching the sunset.