"Respect"

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So, just to catch up on the last few days...
Keith and I spoke to the woman at our guesthouse and told her what happened when we tried to buy bus tickets to Ocho Rios and she flipped out. Turns out she knows the guy who runs the bus company -- she called him immediately, and told him what happened. We were assured that we would get on the bus Saturday morning without any problems. We get up bright and early, get over to the bus place and get our tickets. The woman that checks us in and gives us our tickets is the one we saw about 12 hours earlier that told us there was no room on the bus. EEK!

We take the bus and arrive in at the Ocho Rios Jerk Centre. A guy standing next to a car offers to drive us to our hotel, he doesn't have the red license plate that taxis have, so we are reluctant, but agree to go with him -- he does have a really nice car... His name is Nixie, and he's from Ochie. We tell him we are living in Kingston, and he is impressed by that, even he doesn't go to Kingston!! (Its nice to get street credit from other Jamaicans about living here!)

We get to the resort we are staying at, RIU ClubHotel. It's one of those all-inclusive deals (I've never done one before). We check in, but our room isn't ready till 3pm so we go eat breakfast which takes us 30 minutes just to decide what to eat. Then spend the rest of the day drinking pina coladas and daquiris, eating TONS of food, swimming, and laying by the beach and the pool. It's rough, and we've earned it! We stay there Saturday and Sunday night -- we got bumped up to a Junior Suite that came complete with a fully stocked fridge, and liquor dispensers in the room. JACKPOT!

And...there is water pressure!!

Saturday night I read my book about Africa and have dreams about being in Zimbabwe and being persecuted. Sunday I announce I will no longer read my book before bedtime. Sunday night I dream about working with refugees in Cambodia or Thailand. I can't catch a break!

Monday morning Nixie picks us up from the hotel and takes us to the Jerk Centre to catch the bus back to Kingston -- it's running a few minutes late. I sit next to a man from Jamaica that spends part of the year living about 10 minutes away from where I went to high school back in Florida. Our bus gets in late. We rush home, Rocky is there waiting for us. We change into work clothes and head right into work.

We have a meeting with our supervisors and other people we've been working with at the Ministry of Health -- they get into an arguement, and Keith and I watch. We go back to our office, work on proposals/projects.
Eat Jamaican cup o' noodles with folding fork.
(I'm really starting to dread eating these things...)

Work more. Leave to go home. On the drive we see a police van with 4 or so police officers with AK-47s searching a guy standing on the corner. We watch as we drive by. The police stare back.

Get home and walk to the grocery store. I talk to the lady at the mobile phone place about my phone. Get groceries. Walk back home. Talk to the guesthouse lady about how much we loved the RIU. She tells us not to go to the ATM in the late afternoon -- it's too dangerous -- even she doesn't do it.

We go to the Thai place next door for dinner. I pay, and again they give Keith (THE MAN) the card, because OFCOURSE he's the one paying.

Walk back home. Go to bed.

Wake up. No water pressure. Call to have them turn on the pump.
Eat breakfast -- something with fish...again.
Go to work.
The a/c stops working mid-day. It's hot. Keith is wearing a long-sleeve shirt.

Read the Jamaican Gleaner Online addition (in an attempt to find out if anything happened with that police wreck we saw last week. Can't find anything about it. But I do find some other interesting articles...turns out the School for the Blind that Keith and I visited last week got robbed this week and several Americans were involved (http://www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20080701/lead/lead1.html); turns out the Malaria is "under control" (http://www.jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20080701/lead/lead2.html); also there was a shooting and then a protest which blocked traffic for three hours in Ocho Rios Sunday when Keith and I were there; and lastly, in Morant Bay where Keith and I were the weekend before last there was a car bombing and two women were injured! GOOD TIMES!

Leave and Rocky isn't there...his car was making a funny noise this morning. Hrm.
Wonder where he is?
Call him. He is running late, and has a passenger -- he is on his way.
He arrives 15 minutes late (VERY unlike him) with a male in the passenger seat (ALSO VERY UNLIKE HIM). We start driving into a part of town we never go to...one of the roughest part of towns yet...I can't understand half of what the passenger and Rocky are saying, something about the corrupt police...something about the "system"...I am getting more and more nervous...going through all of the worst case scenarios in my head, trying to think of the parts of the "Humanitarian Companion" that might suddenly become relevant.

How much cash do I have on me? -- NONE.
What about cards? -- My ATM and my ID.
Anything else of value? -- my cell phone and my ipod (I NEVER bring my ipod!)
How restricted am I by my clothes -- dress pants, kinda tight. Slip-on flats, can't run well in those.
I am trying to keep my bearings and decide which way I would run if I need to. I think I know which general direction is home.

We turn into a fenced off area, the passenger says to let him out by the tree. We pull in, he gets out, we drive away. Rocky appologizes. He says the passenger is a police officer and his car got broken into today in Kingston, he saw it happen and he fired a shot at the people, but they got away with his car radio. Apparently it didn't happen very far from where we work.
Umm...okay?

We get dropped off.
I turn on the a/c and sit inside. Watch a movie.
Eat dinner. Write 4 days worth of blogs.
Now I need to wash some shirts in my bathroom sink.

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