What does it look like over there?

Part Two - Heart of Jamaica

I have met and known a lot of foreigners- Germans, French Canadians, Brits, and a couple Parisians, who loved Jamaica as much as I, and some lived there for lengthy periods.  But I have never met another foreigner who could comprehend my love of Kingston, no matter how hard I tried to explain it.  To me, Kingston is the heart and soul of Jamaica as no beach or resort area could ever be.  I guess to understand Town and appreciate it, you have to look deeper than beautiful scenery, mellow reggae rhythms, and sweet smelling ganja, in order to really feel the attraction of the culture and nature of the people themselves.  Once you strip away the sun, sand, and surf, what is left?  To seek out the source of the comedy, drama, determination, creativity, and ingenuity of a people, seek out their seat of government, art, architecture, business, and learning.  IMHO too many visitors who feel they "know" Jamaica well, have no clue.  Kingston has always gotten a bad rap, and what I love is, it doesn't care.  The goats walk the streets said way, alongside the towering centers of business and the Sky Juice pushcart men.

The first person to show me the view of Kingston at night from Red Hills Road was Lloyd Hamilton.  He was the first soul mate I was to know.  I was blessed with two in my lifetime, the other being an Italian in Las Vegas, and I messed up with both of them. Kingston at night is a glittering jewel from Red Hills Road and if you ever go to Town, make a trip up to park and make out, just like a schoolboy, on Red Hills Road.

This is my daughter, Calypso, who got married in May of 02.  How she LOVED that chair! It was her Princess chair. This is my home on Foster Davis Drive in Barbican, in Kingston 4, I think it was.  I lived across the street from Conroy Cooper of The Fab Five and he had a big impact on my thinking and my life.  I also got to be good friends with the Halls, across the street, whose pictures were in the Respect section of the Wanderers page.  They were wonderful people and I hope they are well and prospering in these difficult times.

A House Was Once A Home . . . and a jam session joint, a place to share an ital meal and a good smoke and intelligent reasoning.  Simpler days, aaah . . .

If only I'd known then how much money I could have made now if I'd taken pictures of the people INSIDE the house . . . Murphy's Law

This is the Palace Theater where I saw my first Karate movie.  It was Bruce Lee in Enter the Dragon. I still love them, but like all moviegoers, I am more sophisticated, so I require Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon-style cinemotography. Going to the movies, JA style, open air.  My other favorite spot was the Odeon at Half Way Tree, similar to this theater, and closer to JBC.

I know this road well but can't remember the name. I think that's Up Park Camp behind the wall, which is the JDF (military) training center, along with Newcastle. I traveled this road 500 times, so I'll just blame it on the years of ganj, and not old age . . .lol

Training Day

My friend Daveed, instructing me in the ways of kutchie.  My first experience with the Collie pipe.  We were in the bush out of Papine.  He made me make my own clay bowl and fire it in my oven in Town, the day before.  He said every man (woman) mus av im own kutchie.

My flat up at Stony Hill (upstairs) on Fort George Crescent.  My landlord was Hillary Lanneman of the JBC Lannemans.  JBC was full up of Lannemans in those days.

PORTMORE - For the best escoveitch anywhere

School daze . . .love that Burning Spear song!

courtesy Phillip Hensley

courtesy Andy March

Fort Clarence beach near Kingston, circa 1978.  Completely unknown to tourists, probably still is.  Sorry, not a good camera then back in the day.

I took this picture northeast of Mona, looking toward Gordon Town, in 79.  I have since seen, recently, that the view and the houses are the same, almost identical, a few more houses on the hillside.

The Welcome Sign on Knutsford, the main through New Kingston, off Lady Musgrave.  This sign has been here forever, with constant updates of style but ever-present.  Its twin is to be found in Old Harbour, as you come off the peninsula where Norman Manley Airport is located.

This is Shortwood Rd., after a "likkle trouble out a road" but it's normally clean . . .follow it up the hill and you come to Norbrook Close, one of the nicest places I have ever lived, for views at least . . . I wish my old camera in 79-80 could have done it justice like a modern one.

Lloyd Hamilton, soulmate, in the parking lot.  View of the pool from my balcony and a blurry picture I added so that foreigners could see a "Gully" they are always hearing about in reggae songs, i.e., "he lives in the gullies of the city, the Blackheart Man, tek care the Blackheart Man...

This also is Shortwood Road, looking toward Norbrook Court.  I lived near this intersection.  The first "road" picture was looking toward Constant Spring. This pic also was taken shortly after the gas disturbance in 99. courtesy The Kingston Gas Riots site

Life goes on in the "real" Jamaica, unassisted by the help of tourist dollars.  Imagine that!  Kingston is a perfect and vibrant blend of the old and the new, the pushcart on the street outside of a towering bank building.  I LOVE it!

Looking toward Newcastle from Town area.

Thru Mona, then Papine, past Gordon Town, I think Barry G lived up there as I recall

Downtown viewed from Hellshire - the best fry fish and bammy on earth!

Off Hope Rd. area.  I more or less lived at Sandhurst "hotel" off and on several times.  Great Place!

Knutsford Blvd. looking from Lady Musgrave.  There was a wonderful dance club above the Victoria Grille.

The Governor General's House . . . what a shack.  Yes, that is again Calypso in the foreground.

Staff building next door, and Hope Road, not far from the Governor General's House, and Bob Marley's old home, now a tourist attraction.

What makes the PERFECT party?  Have you ever been to a perfect party?  I have, once or twice.  The BEST party I ever went to was in Jack's Hill.  The music was perfect, the dj in tune with the mood of the people.  Everything was free and everyone was free.  The liquor was only the best, as were the other party favors.  Everyone looked good and had great attitudes.  It seemed like everyone was happy that night, in the whole world.  We all danced until dawn and there were  no fights or arguments even, just sweet perfection. This is Barbican Road, after the said trouble inna Town, near Jack's Hill.

The "locals" beach at Hellshire, on the outskirts of Kingston. Jam-packed on the weekends but nary a single hustler.

Jamaican markets are an experience!  They sell every likkle ting from designer jeans and italian leather shoes to fresh callaloo, ackee, a cel phone or dvd, or a whole goat live or slaughtered while you wait. Check my stories pages for a story (SOON COME) on the market ritual and some of my humorous or poignant experiences on Market Day.

This is Lancelot Thompson. Yes, that's his real name.  Lancelot. He was my first real Jamaican friend, in life.  I met him on Mountain View Boulevard where I was after I first landed.  He was a good friend to me.  He helped me right off, with a crazy Haitian guy. Here he stands before my house on Foster Davis Drive in Barbican, just before we had to push my car to get it started.  No that jalopy in the pic was not mine.  That car was oooold even for 1978.

Old Harbour, outskirts of Kingston, near the entrance to the airport road. There is a big concrete plant in Old Harbour, and much of O.H.'s income flows from this but it's an ugly scar on the hill coming in from the airport.

The Old Harbour Police Station. I have a VERY humorous story about this place that will go on the story pages eventually. A little matter of mistaken identity.  Well, that's my story and I am sticking to it.

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