Jamaica. It’s been in my consciousness only a week.
Kingston. Crushing poverty and immense wealth side by side. A curious mix of classism and racism enthusiastic acceptance of the former, vehement denial of the latter. Houses, shacks, even, fortified by huge gates-iron or wooden, take your pick. Lush greenery…beautiful flowers in February. Beautiful people. Downtown, Parade, the scent of ganja. Rough characters, perhaps rogues (or not), all around, all doing their thing….whatever it is.
Ackees. Coconuts. Ortaniques. Otaheite Apples. Star apples (yum!). Naseberries (yum! yum!) Scotch Bonnets (yum! yum! yum!). Saltfish with yam. Boiled breadfruit. Curried Kidneys (Trinidad-style. “Remember you must burn that curry.”). Saltfish fritters. Jerk. June Plum juice. Coconut water. Ginger Beer. Red Stripe. White rum.
And that’s only three days…
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Herbal medicine stall in Coronation Market -- Kingston, Jamaica
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