A recent post from my blog buddy, Heather Munro, who blogs at Heatherblog made me think about the street signs I have in my photo collection.
Take a look:
This is my submission to this week’s Budget Travelers Sandbox Travel Photo Thursday series. Be sure to check out other photo and story entries on their website!
When a passenger is behaving badly on a bus or a plane, it can make for a very unpleasant and uncomfortable ride.
I was the second person to get on the bus. When the driver saw that I was struggling with my bag and suitcase, he took the bag and put it on floor of one of the front seats.
I was so tired, I practically collapsed into the seat. As I settled into the seat, I heard a voice say, I sit there, I sit there. I didn’t turn around. I sit here, she said again. When I looked around, I noticed a woman — I couldn’t tell her age — standing just behind the row I was sitting and pointing to the seat next to me, the seat where my bag was.
I sit there, she continued.
I looked at her, looked at the seat and looked back at her again thinking, find another seat. There were at least 30 empty, none was assigned. As exhausted as I was, there was no way I was getting up. I didn’t care that she was mentally challenged.
I sit here, she repeated, like a mantra.
An elderly woman who had followed her on to the bus pleaded with her to quiet down. You can sit here, she said, of the empty seat next to her.
No, I sit here. F U!
Calm down, Angie. I’m going to call Frank. Do you want me to call Frank?
But Angie wouldn’t be calm. Instead, she started hitting the back of the seat next to me. F U, A-hole!
I sit here.
What did she say? The driver asked, looking in my direction.
I shrugged.
She was quiet as the bus pulled out but it didn’t last.
I sit here, she resumed.
Just before we got to the first stop, she got up and stood in the aisle.
I’m going to hit you, she said to no one in particular. I watched her from the corner of my eye. If she hit me, I was going to hit her back and call the police.
As the bus pulled into the stop, she jumped off. A-hole, she said.
I’m sorry, her companion said as she passed me. I have no control over her sometimes.
I understand, I said.
The driver, too, apologized.
Luckily, this person did not become physically abusive. Last week, for no reason, a passenger shot two people on a New York city bus.
Have you ever witnessed a passenger acting badly on a plane or bus? How was the situation resolved? What would you do if the person sitting next to you was behaving badly?
While the weather here in New York is slightly un-Christmassy (rain’s in the forecast today) the decorations definitely are. Here are a few Christmas photos I pulled from the Internet.
Recently, I arrived at my destination minus my luggage tag. I know, in the scheme of things, losing a luggage tag shouldn’t be a big problem. But this tag was special. It was a promotional tag from Air Jamaica, which, as you might know, now flies under the Caribbean Airline umbrella. The tag had the Air Jamaica logo, a stylized image of the doctor bird, the island’s national bird, and was made of sturdy plastic.
Of the two I received initially — I don’t remember now how I got them — only one remained. Now, that one’s gone.
Could a baggage handler or someone else have appropriated my tag or did it break off during the flight? It’s hard to say. Whatever the case, I miss my luggage tag, precisely because I’ll probably never have another one like it.
But it got me thinking about the type of tag I’d like to replace it. Once I started thinking about that, I thought of other items that would make perfect Christmas gifts for people who love to travel.
Here’s the list I came up with.
It was the fare that convinced me. $274 round trip Montego Bay to New York. With fees, the total cost of $366 was just within my budget. I typed in my credit card information and a few minutes later, I had my confirmation via email. I was thrilled.
I arrived at the ticket counter with two suitcases – one half-full, the other empty — and put them on the scale. Even though I’m a light packer, I breathed a sigh of relief when the half-empty one came in under the weight limit.
Then the ticket agent said something about baggage fees. I heard $43 and started to look for the money when a friend who was with me asked if it was for both. No, she replied. The fee is $43 for the first bag, $50 for the second. Ninety-three Dollars total!
You could have knocked me down with a feather. I fumbled around in my wallet, trying to find US dollars that I had tucked away so I wouldn’t get them mixed up with my Jamaican money. Where had I put them?
Flustered, and angry at myself for not noticing the baggage fee when I purchased on Travelocity, I began grumbling. Why didn’t I see the %*&#! baggage fee? Was it in the fine print? Why didn’t I pay attention to the fine print?
One suitcase’s empty, I said plaintively, trying to appeal to her. She didn’t reply. I looked from her to the baggage handler who was waiting to put my luggage on the conveyor belt. He was expressionless.
After this flight, I said addressing her but loud enough for everyone else to hear, I’ll never fly Spirit Airlines again. They just suck you in with their cheap flights then they gouge you on everything else. Don’t say that, she said, but there was no sympathy in her voice as if she’d been reading from a script.
Finally, I found the money and gave it to her. When she handed me a receipt, I stared at the total, thinking how much less it would have hurt if I had just thrown the money away. I was still furious when I landed in New York six hours later.
I checked Travelocity and they do have a line in their General Policies that states, “Airline baggage fees may apply and may not be included in the price.” And according to their information, Spirit’s fee for the first bag is $23-33, $30-40 for the second on international flights. Why was my fee $10 higher?
A check of the airline’s website confirms that I paid $10 more for each bag than what’s listed. This from an airline that claims to “empower customers to save money on air travel by offering ultra low base fares with a range of optional services for a fee, allowing customers the freedom to choose only the extras they value.” Excuse me? When did luggage become an extra?
In Jamaica, we say “the cheapest always works out the dearest.” My total so far is $459 and I still have the return leg of my flight and another fee to pay. In the meantime, I’m going to see about getting back my $20.
For a list of what airlines charge and how much, check out airfarewatchdog’s list.
As I watched a Godfather marathon on television recently, my eyes locked onto the Mercury Montclair Michael Corleone drove while he was in Havana. I thought of the cars I saw while I was there and wondered what the recent announcement that the government is planning to allow Cubans to buy and sell their cars and homes would mean.
Would Cubans exchange their iconic cars for much needed foreign currency? Would the government even allow them to?
In a CNN report, a Cuban is quoted as saying, “If these cars didn’t exist, not as many foreigners would come to Cuba to drive around in them and take pictures.” Fortunately, there is a lot more to Cuba than classic cars. Seeing them, seeing the old buildings – one other thing Cuba’s famous for – made me feel as if I’d stepped back in time.
When I was going to Cuba, one of my friends told me she’d love to be able to own one of the cars. I took this photo for her. At the time, I didn’t even consider that it might have been illegal to sell them.
Quite a lot of the cars I saw were in pretty good condition considering they were 50-plus years old. There were, of course, some pretty banged up ones as well but for some reason, my photos of those didn’t come out very well.
We noticed that quite a number of the cars were being operated as taxis. It’s quite inexpensive to take one, about $20-25 and tour the city. They’re big and roomy and can fit up to 6 people (depending on their sizes).
This is my submission to this week’s Budget Travelers Sandbox Travel Photo Thursday series. Be sure to check out other photo and story entries on their website!
I grew up in a community close to Roaring River in the parish of Westmoreland but discovered its underground cave when I was in high school. Back then, it was a local secret. Now, it’s a well-known tourist attraction called Roaring River Park.
For long as I can remember, Roaring River has been known as a very close-knit community. Many of the residents have lived there for generations; some are even related. Visitors go because of the series of limestone caves, mineral springs, blue hole and the river, which supplies water for much of the parish. Even during the dry season, a deep green carpet of wildflowers and grass blankets the area.
Roaring River is located on lands that were once part of the Roaring River Estate. Before sugar lost its importance as Westmoreland’s main crop, much of the lands surrounding the community belonged to the West Indies Sugar Company (WISCO), formerly a major employer in the parish. Now that sugar is no longer ‘king,’ many residents earn much of their income by leading tours of the cave, springs and the blue hole.
We traveled to Roaring River a few weekends ago, not to visit the cave or the blue hole but to see a man (Robbie, a relative) about a goat for a friend of the family. As we drove down its narrow dirt road, the only one into and out of Roaring River, we were greeted warmly by everyone we passed.
Once the goat was purchased and was being prepared, we walked down to the river. The water was so crystal clear, we could see the stones at the bottom. We sat at the river’s edge, watching children frolicking in the shallow part. At one point, three young girls, round 8 or 9 years, raced each other to the edge, stripping off their clothes and jumping in, oblivious to the adults, including a young man, around them.
Walking back to the car, a little boy with two buckets, one almost half his size, caught my eye. I looked around but no adults or older children were nearby. He headed to a spring, caught some water in one of his buckets then with it spilling every which way as he struggled to carry it, he plunked it down in front a horse that was tied nearby. Someone said the horse belonged to his father. When he thought the horse had drunk enough, he splashed the rest on its body, to cool him down, I guessed.
As we were loading up to leave, Robbie came running towards us. Don’t leave yet, he said. They’ve gone to get you some bananas and breadfruit. Shortly after, a few of the older children that we had seen, returned with a bunch of bananas and several breadfruit.
Random photos of Roaring River.
I was thrilled to see this Doctor Bird, our National Bird. He flitted from tree to branch while I fumbled with my camera, hoping he’d sit still long enough for me to take the shot. Thankfully, he did.
Wattle-and-daub, an old tradition of building that used to be quite popular in Jamaica, especially in the rural areas. Here the wattle, interwoven wooden strips, has been set up. Later the daub, which could be made either from a paste of soil, animal dung or sand will be applied.
I will post a follow up when I visit the cave and the blue hole again. In the meantime, enjoy this video of the blue hole at Roaring River from YouTube.
Today, InsideJourneys, is celebrating its first anniversary. A year ago, I wrote my first post. Since then, I’ve written many more and most importantly, made several friends, who stop by everyday.
It’s been a fun year. Thanks for your support and encouragement. So pull up a chair and have a slice of this delicious cake. No, I didn’t bake this one but I can tell you it’s great.
What is a family? According to the dictionary, family for humans, is a group of people who are affiliated by blood, affinity or co-residence.
Some years ago, as I walked to the subway, a guy began walking beside me. He plied me with the usual questions then asked if I had a family. Of course, I said. I forget now what else I said only his response, which was something to the effect that my parents weren’t my family, they were my relatives. A husband and children were family. I remember feeling taken aback, jolted. If what he said were true, I thought, it meant that all along, I was wrong. I didn’t have a family. It was unsettling, to say the least.
In considering the concept of family, I also thought of same-sex families, blended families, single parent families, families headed by young adults, and families with adopted children.
After seeing wild animals up close last year and watching the way elephants and lions protect and nurture their young, I knew for this challenge that I had to include a few animal families as well.
Elephant herds provide an interesting study of animal families. Read more about them here –
Elephants have a matriarchal head. The family will consist of an older matriarch, her daughters (usually about 3 or 4 of them) and their calves. A typical elephant family usually comprises 6 to 12 individual elephants, but can expand to a larger group of 20. These females will assist each other with the birth and care of their young. This ‘babysitting’ is a very important part of the young elephant’s development as it prepares her for when she is a first-time mother. The matriarch is replaced by one of her daughters (usually the oldest) when she dies.
The family will eventually split, depending on the size of the herd. The decision to split also depends on the amount of food available in the area, as it may not be sufficient to sustain them all. This means that, in a large area, there will be several inter-related families. These families remain united to a certain extent and meet at watering holes and favourite feeding spots with much joy and celebration at seeing one another. Sometimes, herds combine to form larger clans. These clans are identified by observing the mannerisms of the members of each herd as they interact with those of another.
When travelling vast areas in search for food, the herd is led by the matriarch. The others follow her footsteps in single file. In this formation, they search for food and water. Calves hold on to the tails of their mothers with their trunks. The other females of the herd ensure that the calves are protected from outside dangers at all times by surrounding them as much as possible.
The fact that elephant herds are matriarch-led is most evident in the manner in which elephants mate. Bulls stick to a bachelor (all-male) pod in which they live and travel. When one of the bulls desires to mate, he will search out a herd of elephant cows. He will select a desirable cow and pursue her until she is ready to mount. She has the final say regarding whether or not she accepts the bull’s advances. Once he has mated with her, he returns to his bachelor herd, having nothing to do with the rearing or caring of the young.
Likewise, when the male calves in the herd mature into adolescence, they will also break away from the herd, gradually at first, and form bachelor pods with their peers. Adolescent females stick to their main herd until adulthood and, sometimes, even until death, depending of the resources available and the size of the herd.
Like humans, elephants are capable of forming very special bonds with their friends and family members. These relationships start at the core of the herd, i.e. mother and calf. But, they radiate out, and there have been astounding reports of lifelong bonds between elephants that have transcended time and even distance apart.
Elephants value their family structure, perhaps more so than many other animals. They are naturally outgoing, sociable animals and, as such, enjoy the interaction with fellow family- and herd members. Although structured, the herd is fluid enough to compensate for unforeseen circumstances (such as the death of one of the mothers, where other mothers allow the orphaned calf to suckle). Such ties are rare, and the empathetic and insightful nature of these magnificent animals continues to lure researchers deeper and deeper into the elephant psyche.
Source: andrews-elephants.com/family-structure.html
I’ve become fascinated by the variety of flowers, including wildflowers, that grow in Jamaica. When I asked about this one and heard that it was the Spanish Needle, I thought of a poem I learned years ago in school.
The poem, The Spanish Needle, was written by Jamaican poet, Claude McKay, who certainly thought a lot of the lowly wildflower. McKay was born in 1889 and moved to the U.S. in 1912, where he became a seminal figure of the Harlem Renaissance. Besides poetry, he also wrote the novels Home to Harlem, Banjo and Banana Bottom, short stories and autobiographical books.
This is what he had to say about The Spanish Needle –
Lovely dainty Spanish needle
With your yellow flower and white,
Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,
Do you think of me to-night?
Shadowed by the spreading mango,
Nodding o’er the rippling stream,
Tell me, dear plant of my childhood,
Do you of the exile dream?
Do you see me by the brook’s side
Catching crayfish ‘neath the stone,
As you did the day you whispered:
Leave the harmless dears alone?
Do you see me in the meadow
Coming from the woodland spring
With a bamboo on my shoulder
And a pail slung from a string?
Do you see me all expectant
Lying in an orange grove,
While the swee-swees sing above me,
Waiting for my elf-eyed love?
Lovely dainty Spanish needle,
Source to me of sweet delight,
In your far-off sunny southland
Do you dream of me to-night?
I was also surprised to learn (but really, I shouldn’t have been) that the medicinal qualities found in the roots, leaves and seeds of the Spanish Needle can be used to treat a variety of illnesses including malaria, headaches and arthritis. It is used widely in Africa, Asia and the Americas.
