Tag: postaday2011

Passenger Behaving Badly

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

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.

Behaving badly from granitoons.deviantart.com via the Internet
Behaving badly from granitoons.deviantart.com via the Internet

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? 

 

 

A New York Pre-Christmas

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

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.

Photo from redbubble.com via the Internet
Photo from redbubble.com via the Internet
Photo from missmyriad.wordpress.com via the Internet
Photo from missmyriad.wordpress.com via the Internet
Photo from nytix.com via the Internet
Photo from nytix.com via the Internet
Photo from wikipedia
Photo from wikipedia

 

Losing a Favorite Luggage Tag Prompts a Christmas Travel Gift List

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

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.

Air Jamaica logo
Air Jamaica logo

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.

  • Luggage Tags – these can come in different types of materials: plastic, leather, etc., and several eye catching designs.
  • Universal Adaptor – handy for travel to destinations that use a different electrical voltage than what you use at home.
  • Passport Cover – use one to protect your passport and keep your travel documents in one place.
  • Travel Pillow – especially great on long flights, on bus trips or anytime you wish to take a nap while traveling.
  • Sleep Mask – if lights distract you when you sleep, you need a sleep mask.
  • Travel Blanket – with airlines charging for pillows and blankets, it’s a good idea to bring your own.
  • Weekend Bag – a must-have for any traveler. I’m using mine this weekend.
  • TSA Approved Luggage Locks – it goes without saying that a TSA approved lock is best. A few months ago, the TSA searched my luggage after I had handed it over for loading on the plane (they left a card in my suitcase telling me they had searched it). With a TSA approved lock, they were able to get in without having to destroy my lock.
  • TSA Approved Quick Check Laptop Bag – this bag makes it easy to screen your laptop.
  • Travel Scale – great for those of us who are chronic over packers.
What gift would you give the traveler in your life this Christmas? What travel gift would you like to receive?

Soulful Sundays: Count Ossie & The Mystic Revelation of Rastafari

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

Legendary master drummer Count Ossie is credited with infusing African drumming and chanting in

Count Ossie
Count Ossie

reggae music. In the early 1960s, he backed The Folkes Brothers on their ground breaking hit, Oh Carolina.

Born Oswald Williams in 1926 in St. Thomas, Count Ossie grew up in a Rasta community where he learned hand drumming and vocal chanting. In the 1950s, he formed the Count Ossie Group, which later developed into the Mystic Revelation of Rastafari (MRR) and included horn player, Cedric Brooks. Count Ossie led regular jam sessions in Kingston were musicians such as Tommy McCook, Lennie Hibbert, Larry McDonald, Rico Rodriguez, Nambo Robinson and Don Drummond played.

Count Ossie & the Mystic Revelation of Rastafari were a major influence in reggae music, especially in the 1960s and 1970s. They recorded two albums Grounation (1973), considered a masterpiece, and Tales of Mozambique (1975).

Count Ossie died on October 18, 1976. In 1983, the MRR released and Man from Higher Heights.

While the MRR tours extensively in Europe, their first performance in the U.S. was in July, 2000, at the Lincoln Center’s Caribbean Roots, Caribbean Routes program, where I was fortunate to see them. Here’s a review by the New York Times of their performance.

Also, listen here to two of Count Ossie & MRR’s So Long and Sam’s Intro.

Grounation
Grounation

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: Waiting

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

According to some statistics, we spend about an hour a day waiting. We wait for traffic lights and in line at the grocery store, the movie, the airport and at the doctor’s office. We wait for birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Easter and other holidays. We wait for vacations and for our children to grow up. Some of us wait for retirement.

We spend so much time waiting, some of us have developed ways to manage our wait times. We read, talk on the phone, do crossword puzzles, take naps or eat.

In countries that are less bureaucratic, wait times can stretch for hours and force people to think of creative ways to avoid waiting or lessen the time they have to wait.

Recently, I went to the utility company to order new service. The number I took when I arrived was ’02’ but the number being served was in the 70s. An hour or more later when my number was called, I walked over to the representative I was directed to but someone else was there. He claimed to be #02 as well. I told the representative that I also had #02 and that I’d been there for more than an hour waiting patiently to be called.

Luckily for me, the fake #02 wasn’t too swift. When the representative asked, he replied that he’d been there earlier, gotten his number and left to run an errand.

Waiting at the Musee d'Orsay
Waiting in line at the Musee d'Orsay
Waiting in line at the Eiffel Tower
Waiting in line at the Eiffel Tower
Waiting for the light to change
Waiting for the traffic light to change
Cruise ship waiting for passengers
Cruise ship waiting for passengers

We might not think about it but animals wait as well. Here, my neighbor’s dog waits patiently for her to come home.

Waiting dog
Waiting dog

 

Sucked in by Spirit Airline’s Cheap Fare

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

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.

 

 

Travel Photo Thursday: Cuba’s Classic Cars

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

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.

Se Vende/For Sale Havana Classic Car
Se Vende / For Sale, Havana Classic Car

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.

Classic Car taxi
1952 Oldsmobile

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.

Havana Classic Car
Green Chevrolet
Havana Classic Car
Red Plymouth

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).

Classic Car taxi
Red Olds
Red Havana car
Red Chevy
Havana car
Cadillac

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!

 

A Visit to Roaring River

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

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.

Munching goat
Goat in field of wildflowers and grass

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.

Part of the Roaring River in Westmoreland
Part of the Roaring River in Westmoreland

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.

Boy and horse
Boy and horse

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.

Robbie with breadfruit
Robbie with breadfruit

Random photos of Roaring River.

Flower
Flower
Bird of Paradise
Bird of Paradise

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.

Doctor Bird
Doctor Bird
Roaring River warning
Roaring River warning
Wattle-and-Daub shop
Wattle-and-Daub shop
Painting of Roaring River by John Boydell, from Wikipedia
A 1778 Painting of Roaring River by John Boydell - from Wikipedia

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.

 

 

We’re Celebrating!

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

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.

InsideJourneys' Blogoversary
InsideJourneys' 1st Blogoversary

Stories from the Road

Posted on by Marcia Mayne

“Are you African?” The security guard asked as I waited for my cousin and her husband at the hardware

African dress
My African dress

store.

I hesitated for a moment not quite sure what to say. My eyes searched her face for a clue to what prompted the question that hung heavily in the air, separating us. We are both black, and therefore African, but I couldn’t tell what that meant to her. Nothing about her round, pleasant face gave her away.

The moment and the tension lingered.

I smiled. Yes, I’m African.

She twisted her mouth describing a semi-circle, an expression I couldn’t read. It was as if she were struggling to make sense of me, of what I had just said. I waited as she digested that nugget of information.

You live here now? she asked eventually.

I nodded.

I leaned closer to see if her eyes would reveal something, anything. They were soft, almost smiling. Sensing she wouldn’t give me more, I asked why she thought I was African.

Your wrap, she said as if I should have known.

I laughed. I’d forgotten what I was wearing, a gift from my African family.

We’re all African, I said, whether we’re born here or there.

&&&&&&

The Wrong Side of the Road

My cousin had left already when I decided to go into town. As I arrived at the end of the street to wait for a taxi, I noticed a young girl, maybe 18 or 19, standing a few yards away.

She looked around and I stopped instinctively, as if I had disturbed her territory. We locked eyes but she turned away before I could nod my acknowledgement.

Unknown flower
Unknown flower

I surveyed her furtively from the corner of my eye: shorts, strappy sandals, blouse, and dead straight hair that she stroked frequently, as if it were the smoothest silk.

Suddenly, my auntie jeans, sensible shoes and hair caught up in a ponytail make me feel frumpy and unfashionable. I tried to recall the girl I was at that age but my mind couldn’t seem to find her.

A car approaches. The driver slows down long enough for the driver to survey the young miss then speed up as he reaches me and refocuses his eyes on the road.

One day she’ll understand, I say to myself. All that fades in time.

Another car rolls by and snaps me back. I’m standing on the wrong side of the road. I cross sheepishly to the other side to wait for the taxi. It’s cooler here, I say to myself, as if in response to the question I imagined she’d ask, that is, if she’d even noticed.