It cannot be denied that Jamaica is the most naturally beautiful place I’ve ever seen with my own two eyes (as opposed to someone else’s own two eyes). The colors are so vivid; bright blue water, intensely green tropical forest, pink, purple, bright yellow flowers- it’s absolutely picturesque.
Yet, when I looked a bit closer, I saw shacks tucked neatly between the palm trees- shacks with holes for windows cut in the shambles of material representing walls. I thought to myself, “Huh, I wonder what those are? Must be old ruins from long ago…nobody could possibly live in those.” However, people do live in those. Many many people live in those four walls, more or less, of poverty totally unrelatable to someone like myself, a member of industrialized Western Civilization.
And so comes the biggest beef I have with Jamaica…
I never experienced the real Jamaica. Here comes little Ms. American, easily suckered into believing the mental attitude of Jamaica is to relax and not to “worry about a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be alright.” No, every little thing is not alright. And here I am, taking a luxurious vacation to this romantic, exotic island which in reality is a poor nation largely divided by old racial injustices and social class. In retrospect I feel borderline disgusted with myself.
Needless to say, I was not terribly impressed with Jamaica. The land is beautiful, the people are beautiful, but my experience did not feel genuine. Of course, the explosive diarrhea and vomiting as a result of the terrible resort food/water did nothing for my good opinion. I do not want to sound ungrateful or change anyone’s views on this country, the point of this blog is simply to document my opinions after traveling to this island. If I ever go back, I do not want to be catered to as the middle-class foreign folk looking for a relaxing, albeit hypocritical getaway. I want to get to know the real Jamaica.
Until next time, adieu adieu to you and you and you!
Elaine
