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.
A New York Pre-Christmas
Tag: Travel
Losing a Favorite Luggage Tag Prompts a Christmas Travel Gift List
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.
- 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?
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Sucked in by Spirit Airline’s Cheap Fare
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.
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Stories from the Road
“Are you African?” The security guard asked as I waited for my cousin and her husband at the hardware
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.
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.
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Budget Airline, REDJet, Lands in Jamaica
On Monday, November 21, REDJet, the Caribbean’s first budget carrier, landed at Kingston’s Norman Manley International Airport.
With tickets priced as low as US$9.99 and increasing in increments of US$10 as seats are sold and departure dates approach, the airline could shake up air travel in the Caribbean.
Speaking at the launch, Ian Burns, REDJet’s chairman and chief executive officer tried to allay fears that the low cost carrier will draw passengers away from established airlines, like Caribbean Airlines and LIAT.
REDJet cites its single class of service, its one aircraft type and point-to-point service as among the factors that minimize cost and maximize efficiency. Passengers can purchase meals on board and pay for their bags at the airport.
REDJet had been eyeing the Jamaican market for four years, Burns said, but the country was in the throes of divesting its national carrier, Air Jamaica, and regarded the low cost carrier as a threat. Jamaican authorities however attribute the delay to concerns over safety.
In addition to Jamaica, REDJet offers service to Antigua, Barbados, Guyana and Trinidad & Tobago.
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Jamaica’s National Heroes: Samuel Sharpe
Born in 1801 in St. James, Samuel Sharpe was a deacon in the Baptist church. Although he was a slave, he
was also an educated man. Since religious meetings were the only forms of organized activities permissible for the slaves, Sharpe travelled widely teaching other slaves about Christianity and encouraging discussions about the fight for freedom. Sharpe became a highly regarded of the native Baptists in Montego Bay and was widely known as “Daddy” Sharpe.
He devised a plan of passive resistance – the slaves would refuse to work on Christmas Day of 1831 and after, unless their grievances regarding better treatment and their consideration of freedom were accepted by the owners.
Sharpe explained his plan to chosen supporters after his religious meetings and had them kiss the Bible to show their loyalty. They, in turn, took the plan to other parishes. Unfortunately, word reached the owners and troops, with guns drawn, were sent to Montego Bay and Black River in St. Elizabeth.
On December 27, 1831, the Kensington Great House in St. James was set on fire as a signal that the Slave Rebellion had begun. Soon after, a series of other fires broke out in the area and it was clear that the plan of non-violent resistance, which Sharpe had created was no longer possible.
By the first week of January, the Rebellion was put down. More than 500 slaves and 14 whites lost their
lives. Sharpe, who had vowed that he “would rather die upon yonder gallows than live in slavery” was hanged on May 23, 1832 at Parade in Montego Bay. It was renamed Sam Sharpe Square in his honor.
In 1834, the British Parliament passed the Abolition Bill that ended slavery in 1838.
Sharpe was named a National Hero in 1975. His likeness can also be found on the $50 note.
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Travel Photo Thursday: Elephants
There are more than 30,000 elephants in Hwange National Park, Zimbabwe so it’s not a matter of whether you’ll see a few elephants when you go game watching, but when.
We first saw this mother’s baby at the side of the road and stopped to take it’s photo when we heard the unmistakable sound of an elephant on our right. When I turned round, I noticed her ears were fully open — elephants use this technique to frighten other animals, and us. She was so close, I’m not sure how we didn’t see her first but glad I didn’t fumble the shot.
We were very lucky the day we watched as a herd approached a watering hole. The baby got there first and began drinking right away, totally oblivious to our presence.
Soon more came and they drank, played, squirted water on their backs, rolled around in the mud and had a good ole time.
We were very fortunate to catch this scene — several hundred cape buffalo near our camp. As we sat quietly watching the buffalo, we saw a herd of elephants approaching. From the corner of my eye, they looked like a dark shadow but the day was clear so I began looking more intently. Then I saw them. For animals that can weigh up to 7,000 lbs., they are astonishingly quiet and nimble on their feet. Soon, about three or four herds joined buffalos, zebras and impalas at the watering hole. It was a beautiful sight.
Towards the end of the day, we caught this elephant slowly making its way as if he’d had a hard day at work and was on his way home. I hoped that where ever ‘home’ was, it wasn’t too far away.
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!
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At the Customs Department
For some people, it’s almost easier to give up a body part than have to deal with the bureaucracy of government. I’m one of them.
Before I left the U.S., I had shipped some personal items that I wanted to have when I arrived. The day after I was notified of their arrival, I went to the shipping company then to the customs department to pick them up.
At the shipping company, I picked up the shipping forms, paid them a handling fee and headed to the customs department. That took no more than 10-15 minutes. I was smiling until my cousin said the fun was about to begin.
We arrived at the customs office and joined a group of about 20 people who were sitting around casually. I tried to read their expressions to see who were the veterans and who were first-timers, like me but each wore the same look of resignation their eyes becoming alert only when their names were called.
Within thirty minutes, though, a customs officer was asking those who had just arrived to bring their shipping forms, passports and other identification to him. He noted our names and led us into another room where another person recorded our details in a log and gave us a customs identification badge. Since I was the addressee, I was allowed in. My cousin, who was with me, was not.
When it was his turn, each person in the group I was with walked up to a window, handed over his form to an officer and was told the amount to be paid. After paying, there was another office (downstairs) and another line to join. This time, however, there was no fee. (I still haven’t figured out why we couldn’t have completed both steps in that one office.)
Before I left the second office, I was told to wait in a designated area to be called. At this point, I went to get my cousin. (Looking back now, I can see why a second person wasn’t allowed in. There was just enough room for one person per consignment in both of the offices.)
About 15 minutes after we took our seats, I heard my name. I was shown into a cavernous warehouse, which was packed to the rafters with packages of all shapes and sizes.
It buzzed with activity. Workers wheeling boxes and containers, talking at the top of their voices, people unpacking boxes and barrels for inspection and the beep, beep, beep of small front-end loaders as they drove a path through the crowd with barrels and packages and stuff. A set of floor to ceiling windows separated the warehouse from an open plan office where shippers, carrying sheaves of forms were being directed.
Once we unpacked everything I had in my barrel, a customs officer came to inspect them. This is where they determine the value of the goods I’m importing into the country and assess the tax to be levied. Since my items were used, I was charged a nominal amount. I paid a cashier who took my forms and gave me back a receipt and another form and directed me to a validating clerk.
The clerk, who was seated in a cubbyhole of an office a few steps from the warehouse area, stamped them, sent me to collect a gate pass and told me to return to him. When I did, he took the forms, stapled them and sent me back to the customs agent.
The agent pointed me to a security guard and said I should take the forms to him. The guard simply stamped the forms and sent me back to the customs agent who took them and said I could go. Hallelujah! All I needed now was someone to move the barrel from the warehouse to the loading dock and put it in the car.
I looked at my watch as we pulled out. It was a little past 3:00 p.m., three hours from start to finish. My cousin thought it was much quicker than the previous time she was there but to my mind, it could have been shorter. But honestly, I was just glad to get my things and be out of there.
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Driving on the Left and Other Adjustments to Life in Jamaica
During the thirty-odd years that I lived abroad, I returned once, sometimes twice a year, to Jamaica so I never considered myself a stranger to how things worked. I realize now that those fleeting visits really never prepared me for the reality of everyday living.
One of the things I knew would take a period of adjustment is driving. As a former British colony, Jamaica drives on the left. I had just started driving my mom’s car – from the house to the gate and occasionally to church – when I left here in the 70s. I matured as a driver in the US and was always too nervous that I’d end up on the ‘wrong’ side to drive during trips home. I still haven’t driven yet, but I feel as if my mind has re-adjusted sufficiently.
Walking, however, is a different matter. I attempted to cross the street recently, not at a traffic light, and instead of looking left, I looked right. Thankfully, the street was clear. Before I cross the street now, I find myself repeating a little ditty we learned in primary school, Look left, look right, look left again before crossing the street.
In Jamaica, the currency is the dollar. It’s easy enough to identify the bills – each ($50, $100, $500, $1,000, $5,000) is a different color. It’s the coins that confuse me. The $10 coin is silver and about the same size as the U.S. quarter, except that the edges are rippled and it feels lighter. Somehow, though, my mind thinks it should be a quarter. So a few days ago when I needed a $10 to pay for a purchase, I fumbled in my purse looking for one – I had several but couldn’t figure out which it was without pouring everything out on the counter so I gave the a $50 bill instead.
For each US dollar I convert, I get about J$86 and I find myself always doing a quick conversion to see if the price I’m being charged is more or less than what I would have paid in the States.
There’s a 17.5% tax on purchases. Some places charge, some don’t. I suspect most of those who collect the taxes rarely pay it over to the government as that’s now on the table for reform.
Checking out prices and wages, I wonder how people survive. The minimum wage is J$5,500 (approximately US$65) weekly. A 10-year old used car can run J$1,000,000 (US$12,000), before insurance and licensing, and gas is about J$110 a gallon. In some areas, a modest 2-bedroom house can cost up to $7,000,000 (about US$80,000). Speaking with friends, they tell me they need to take home between J$200-300,000 a month to cover their expenses.
The complaint I hear most often is how unpredictable electricity costs are. Bills vary significantly from one month to the next even when usage remains constant.
The good thing though, is that now more and more people are looking into alternative energy. Several companies that sell solar water heater, solar panels, etc., have sprung up. And some banks have jumped on the bandwagon offering loans to homeowners who want to go solar.
Frankly, I believe farming is the way to go. Those who have the land space should plant what they need. When I was little, my grandmother always had a garden in her backyard with bananas, breadfruit, plantains, ackee, lime, coconut and pimento trees, and she always had pigs and chickens running around.
I’ve often wondered how people know that I’ve just arrived. One of my cousins, who lived abroad for about 50 years, related an incident that happened to her sometime ago. She was chatting with a taxi driver when he asked where she was from. She replied in her best Jamaican accent that she was Jamaican. No, he said, You’re a Jamerican (a Jamaican who lives in the US). I’m Jamaican, she insisted. No, he replied, look at your skin. Look how you’re sweating. Jamaicans don’t sweat like that! He’s right. Despite the heat, I don’t notice anyone sweating as much as I’ve been doing. Whenever I see anyone sweating (or glowing as one of my friend calls it), I smile. It’s the ice in us that’s melting, another friend tells me.
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Old Hits Party Night at the Ultimate Jerk Center
Last Saturday night, I went to what’s been called Old Hits Party night at the Ultimate Jerk Center & Rest Stop on Main Street in Discovery Bay, St. Ann, just opposite the Green Grotto Caves.
When we arrived around 12:30 a.m., several hundred cars had already filled the large empty space that serves as parking lot and the attendant pointed us to an empty space where he said we could create a new row.
As we exited the car, a wall of music blasted from several massive speakers that had been placed in designated areas around the Jerk Center.
People were everywhere. Some clustered in groups of three or four, couples young and old held each other close as they moved to the music, young people danced by themselves – everyone, it seemed was there.
We moved through the crowd in search of the owner who my friend thought I should meet. We finally found him near the DJ and chatted with him and his wife a bit before moving on get something to eat.
Naturally, since I was at the Ultimate Jerk Center, I ordered jerk pork and festival and we sat under a tree as we ate.
I left my seat several times to dance. The music – a mix of R&B, reggae and calypso never stopped.
After telling my friend that I only wanted to spend an hour, I was surprised to see that it was near 3:30 when we left. Many people were on the dance floor and the parking lot was still quite full.
The Ultimate Jerk Center is the place to be on New Year’s Eve Night but it’s wall-to-wall people. Many people end the night here after attending balls and events at other places.
Old Hits night is held on the last Saturday every month at the Ultimate Jerk Center. No cover.
The Ultimate Jerk Center & Rest Stop is open Sunday -Thursday 8:30 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. and until 12:00 midnight on Friday and Saturday nights. 876-973-2054.
