On the way back from Guyana, I stopped over in Kingston, Jamaica, for discussions with the Statistical Office on the Jamaica MICS survey. It was a relatively short visit, and I did not get to see or do much. However, a couple of days was enough to sense the underlying violence in this society.
Simple: The UNICEF driver took me to the hotel. It was a Sunday. I was expected not to wonder around in the city on my own, and was advised not to leave the street that the hotel was on, which happened to be a couple of blocks, very close to the UNICEF office. Nevertheless, I wondered out - just wanted to see where the UNICEF office was.
The minute I left the hotel premises, someone approached to sell marijuana. It took me a good 5 minutes to get him off my back, and just as I was thinking that I was now okay, another one approached. I came up with the ecuse that I did not have Jamaican money, but he said I could pay him later, since he knew that I was staying in that hotel (!).
I stayed in Kingston for a couple of days and then left for New York City. I was told of the violence that is everywhere in the city, that UNICEF colleagues and other internationals practically live within the confines of a few streets. Otherwise, too dangerous.
The highlight was of course, Mr. Marley's house, which had been turned into a museum. It was a great place. The tour ended with a film. I played "Redemption Song" with my knees, my elbows, my feet and my toes. Then I left Jamaica.
Singing on the street: Sunday - singing and dancing as well.
Bob Marley's house, now turned into a museum.
Me and Bob.
Simple: The UNICEF driver took me to the hotel. It was a Sunday. I was expected not to wonder around in the city on my own, and was advised not to leave the street that the hotel was on, which happened to be a couple of blocks, very close to the UNICEF office. Nevertheless, I wondered out - just wanted to see where the UNICEF office was.
The minute I left the hotel premises, someone approached to sell marijuana. It took me a good 5 minutes to get him off my back, and just as I was thinking that I was now okay, another one approached. I came up with the ecuse that I did not have Jamaican money, but he said I could pay him later, since he knew that I was staying in that hotel (!).
I stayed in Kingston for a couple of days and then left for New York City. I was told of the violence that is everywhere in the city, that UNICEF colleagues and other internationals practically live within the confines of a few streets. Otherwise, too dangerous.
The highlight was of course, Mr. Marley's house, which had been turned into a museum. It was a great place. The tour ended with a film. I played "Redemption Song" with my knees, my elbows, my feet and my toes. Then I left Jamaica.
Singing on the street: Sunday - singing and dancing as well.
Bob Marley's house, now turned into a museum.
Me and Bob.