Sunday, May 31, 2009
A Blustery Day at Fort Clarence Beach, Kingston
A year abroad is the perfect time for new beginnings. So, there are a couple of things we decided to change for this year. The first was to leave behind Raymi’s sippy cup. I mean, she’s five, and doesn’t really need a sippy cup. By leaving it behind, we can begin a new phase in her life, right? The other thing we decided to do was to institute a family budget. Last night, Nando and I agreed on how much we would spend in each category, and committed to reporting our expenses to each other.
Yesterday, I went to the bank, and took out half of our budgeted money for this week, and gave Nando his portion of the cash. Nando is in charge of entertainment expenses, since he will be in charge of entertaining the kids most days while I am out doing my research. (Yes, I will be starting that any day now!)
This morning, we decided that we would take the bus to Hellshire Beach. I looked up the schedules, and found that there is a bus that leaves from near our house at 11:36am. Nando asked if he had time to go to the grocery store beforehand. It was 9:10am, so I agreed, although I suspected he might take longer than he expected, since that is his normal M.O. But, I wasn’t worried about it, because Nando is in charge of entertainment expenses. Nevertheless, I got the girls ready and straightened things up around the house.
Nando rolled up at the house at 11:10am, and we put away the groceries. By then, it was 11:20, and Nando asked if we still had time to catch the bus. We didn’t so he suggested we take a taxi. Again, I am cool with that, because we have a set amount, and once it’s gone, it’s gone.
To my surprise, Nando negotiates with the taxi driver and he agrees to take us to Hellshire Beach, which is 40 minutes away for 1500 Jamaican dollars, about US $20. On the way, we agree to go to Fort Clarence Beach instead. Fort Clarence is a National Park, and I have heard that it is cleaner and safer than Hellshire Beach. So, the taxi drops us there.
Once we arrived at the beach, I was so glad I decided to come. I really love the beach! The girls ran straight in and swam in the water. As can be expected, the water was not exactly crystal clear, but it was as warm as bath water and suitable for swimming. The only problem really is that it is very windy at the beach. This certainly helps cool things off, but, makes it a bit hard to just chill. I did manage to get a chapter read of a book I am supposed to be writing a review of, though.
After a bit, Tatiana, Soraya, Raymi, and I decided to walk down the beach to see what was there. Turns out not much. The beach to the left was strewn with trash, and completely devoid of any shade. After about ten minutes of walking, I asked the girls if we could turn around. I remembered I hadn’t put suntan lotion on their backs and thought we should go back and get lotioned up. Of course, they didn’t want to go back. We lingered for a bit. Then, I pointed to a yellow piece of trash in the distance and said: “I think I see a sand bucket.”
They bolted towards it, and it turned out to be a broken yellow sand bucket, but at least we were on the way back to our place on the beach. When we were almost back to where Nando was, Soraya was lagging behind, and Raymi and Tatiana had gone ahead. I yelled to Soraya to catch up, and went to direct Raymi and Tatiana to where the suntan lotion was. When I turned around, Soraya wasn’t behind me. I asked Nando to go back for her.
Next thing I knew, he was way down the beach and there was no sign of Soraya. I panicked and yelled for Nando to come back, as surely she had gone the other way. I asked a couple we had passed by if they had seen her. The guy told me a girl with a stick had passed by. So, I began running in the other direction, and told Tatiana and Raymi to stay put. Then, a woman came up to me and pointed at Soraya walking towards us from the far right end of the beach. When Soraya got to me, she began crying and said she hated getting lost. Fortunately, that was just a scare, and Nando came back and all the kids got their suntan lotion lathered on. Me too, even though I was in the shade most of the time.
At Fort Clarence Beach, there is a place called Tianna’s shack, where the owner roasts up delicious fresh fish. Nando ordered a plate of roasted fish and festival – a sort of delicious fried corn bread. Mmmm, mmm, delicious.
Nando had brought some of his jewelry with him to the beach, and set out to sell his wares while we waited for the fish to roast. He came back 30 minutes later, and had made a few sales. After eating, he went back out for another 20 minutes, and sold some more. In less than an hour, he made back the round trip taxi fare, the money for the fish, and then some. Not bad, eh?
After lunch and jewelry-selling, the girls were tired and ready to go back. We set back out on the road, and the security guards at the beach offered us a ride out to the main road. So, we hopped on the back of their pick up and came out to the main road. They then hailed a taxi for us. Actually, they yelled at a driver to come back for us, even though he was headed in the other direction. They told him to just let us ride with his other fare and then take us where we need to go. The driver explained that he has been driving for 24 years, and is the most trustworthy driver there is, and that is why they wanted him to take us. Nice to know someone is watching out for us.
We arrived back at the house without incident. Nando decided he wanted to venture out to Trenchtown, so the taxi took him back downtown after dropping us off. I came inside with the girls to relax after a long day.
A Blustery Day at Fort Clarence Beach, Kingston
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Conversations at the Kingston YMCA
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May 30, 2009
This morning, I woke up and had my breakfast on our lovely patio, which overlooks a nice garden and a swimming pool, which is, unfortunately, bereft of water.
After breakfast, I began writing my methodological statement. As a first step, I read an interesting article by KU professor, Thomas Skrtic, where he describes an elaborate application of naturalistic inquiry to a multi-sited project. It gave me some ideas for my own project.
Skrtic (1985) points out that you can begin a research project with theories already in mind, or you can use grounded theory. In my research on deportation, I am using a combination of grounded and a priori theories (Skrtic 1985: 190; 193). We already know a lot about immigration generally, so I am curious as to the extent to which current understandings of transnationalism and immigrant incorporation work in the context of deportation. On the other hand, I am also open to the possibility that thinking of deportation could fundamentally change how we think about immigration and globalization more generally. Thus, I have a set of questions related to transnationalism and immigrant incorporation. At the same time, I will remain open to exploring other emergent themes as I talk to deportees.
After my morning writing and thinking, I was ready to go on another adventure with my family. Yesterday, the people at the YMCA told us that the swimming pool is open from noon to 3pm on Saturdays, so we made plans to go there today. As soon as we left the house, Tatiana began to complain about walking in the sun. I told her that it is not very far. Yesterday, we walked at least 30 blocks, and today we only were going to have to walk four blocks to get to the swimming pool. Luckily you can see the pool after about two and a half blocks, and Tatiana stopped fussing as soon as she saw that (sort of clear) blue water.
Once inside the pool gates, the twins looked around. Soraya asked me if everyone in Jamaica was brown. Tatiana corrected her and told her everyone is black. I told them that most people in Jamaica are black. I haven’t quite figured out exactly how best to approach issues of race with the twins. They are eight years old, and I am not always sure what they can and can’t understand. I suppose I could take a color-blind approach and tell them that color doesn’t matter. But, that would be less than true, since color matters so much in our society and others. I could tell them that I like black people, but that is too much of a blanket statement. So far, I have told them that I have friends that are black, white, and brown, and that there are nice and mean people, and that you can’t tell whether people are nice or mean just by looking at their skin color. Nevertheless, the kids really notice color, especially in Jamaica. When we were walking back home, a car with Latinos rolled by, and Soraya told me that she saw some white people pass by.
Back at the pool, Raymi, Tatiana and Soraya jumped in the water and eventually made friends with a few kids who also were brave enough to be in the deep end. And, Nando and I took a spot in the shade near to the life guards.
Nando is always making sure I am making progress with my research. So, he began talking to the lifeguard and asked him if he knew people who had been deported from the US. When Nando began to explain my project to the lifeguard, I interrupted to explain that I was in Jamaica looking for people who had been deported who would be willing to tell me their story. The lifeguard suggested I put an ad in the paper. He then went on to explain that he also thought the US and Jamaican governments should do something about all the deportees, and that they should help them reincorporate into society. I mentioned that deportees might have a hard time getting a job. He agreed wholeheartedly, and said they have to work in the informal economy, since they can’t get jobs in the formal economy. He told me he thought that at least 80 percent of deportees would like to have a job and conform to society, and leave behind their criminal ways, but that it is difficult for them in Jamaica, since they often don’t have relatives here, and many times have been out of the country for years.
Most people I have talked to seem to think deportees are dangerous criminals, so it was interesting to notice that this guy did not have the same set of assumptions about deportees as others do. He did think that they would be in need of rehabilitation, but seemed to think that rehabilitation would be possible. Perhaps deportees in Jamaica are not viewed as negatively as I thought.
This morning, I woke up and had my breakfast on our lovely patio, which overlooks a nice garden and a swimming pool, which is, unfortunately, bereft of water.
After breakfast, I began writing my methodological statement. As a first step, I read an interesting article by KU professor, Thomas Skrtic, where he describes an elaborate application of naturalistic inquiry to a multi-sited project. It gave me some ideas for my own project.
Skrtic (1985) points out that you can begin a research project with theories already in mind, or you can use grounded theory. In my research on deportation, I am using a combination of grounded and a priori theories (Skrtic 1985: 190; 193). We already know a lot about immigration generally, so I am curious as to the extent to which current understandings of transnationalism and immigrant incorporation work in the context of deportation. On the other hand, I am also open to the possibility that thinking of deportation could fundamentally change how we think about immigration and globalization more generally. Thus, I have a set of questions related to transnationalism and immigrant incorporation. At the same time, I will remain open to exploring other emergent themes as I talk to deportees.
After my morning writing and thinking, I was ready to go on another adventure with my family. Yesterday, the people at the YMCA told us that the swimming pool is open from noon to 3pm on Saturdays, so we made plans to go there today. As soon as we left the house, Tatiana began to complain about walking in the sun. I told her that it is not very far. Yesterday, we walked at least 30 blocks, and today we only were going to have to walk four blocks to get to the swimming pool. Luckily you can see the pool after about two and a half blocks, and Tatiana stopped fussing as soon as she saw that (sort of clear) blue water.
Once inside the pool gates, the twins looked around. Soraya asked me if everyone in Jamaica was brown. Tatiana corrected her and told her everyone is black. I told them that most people in Jamaica are black. I haven’t quite figured out exactly how best to approach issues of race with the twins. They are eight years old, and I am not always sure what they can and can’t understand. I suppose I could take a color-blind approach and tell them that color doesn’t matter. But, that would be less than true, since color matters so much in our society and others. I could tell them that I like black people, but that is too much of a blanket statement. So far, I have told them that I have friends that are black, white, and brown, and that there are nice and mean people, and that you can’t tell whether people are nice or mean just by looking at their skin color. Nevertheless, the kids really notice color, especially in Jamaica. When we were walking back home, a car with Latinos rolled by, and Soraya told me that she saw some white people pass by.
Back at the pool, Raymi, Tatiana and Soraya jumped in the water and eventually made friends with a few kids who also were brave enough to be in the deep end. And, Nando and I took a spot in the shade near to the life guards.
Nando is always making sure I am making progress with my research. So, he began talking to the lifeguard and asked him if he knew people who had been deported from the US. When Nando began to explain my project to the lifeguard, I interrupted to explain that I was in Jamaica looking for people who had been deported who would be willing to tell me their story. The lifeguard suggested I put an ad in the paper. He then went on to explain that he also thought the US and Jamaican governments should do something about all the deportees, and that they should help them reincorporate into society. I mentioned that deportees might have a hard time getting a job. He agreed wholeheartedly, and said they have to work in the informal economy, since they can’t get jobs in the formal economy. He told me he thought that at least 80 percent of deportees would like to have a job and conform to society, and leave behind their criminal ways, but that it is difficult for them in Jamaica, since they often don’t have relatives here, and many times have been out of the country for years.
Most people I have talked to seem to think deportees are dangerous criminals, so it was interesting to notice that this guy did not have the same set of assumptions about deportees as others do. He did think that they would be in need of rehabilitation, but seemed to think that rehabilitation would be possible. Perhaps deportees in Jamaica are not viewed as negatively as I thought.
The Kingston Sun
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May 29, 2009
We arrived at our lovely apartment in Kingston, and everything was just dandy, except … the swimming pool was out of commission! Now, the swimming pool was the primary reason I chose this apartment complex. And, it is very hot in the summertime in Jamaica.
On our first full day in Kingston, after lunch at home, we decided to set out for the YMCA, as we had heard they had a swimming pool there. I thought perhaps we could sign up for the pool, and if we were very lucky, there would even be an exercise facility. So, Nando, Tatiana, Soraya, Raymi and I left the house around 1:30pm, in search of some respite from the Kingston sun.
Looking at Google maps, I could see that the swimming pool at the YMCA was just a few blocks from our apartment, so we decided to walk. I asked the guard at the gate how to get there, she told me to keep straight down the road we live on, and we’d get there. After about a block of walking in the sun, Raymi began to complain. I asked her if she’d rather stay behind with the security guard, and she decided she’d prefer to go with us.
As we were walking, Tatiana told me she thought she knew why most people in Jamaica are brown – because there is so much sun. Then, she asked me if I would get brown if I stayed in the sun too long. I appreciated her logic – after all, Jean-Baptiste Lamarck (1744 –1829) thought that Europeans would eventually get dark if they lived in the tropics for too long. Anyway, I digress, as Tatiana was not that interested in the topic and kept on walking.
After about four blocks, I asked another person, and he didn’t know where the YMCA was. So, we kept on. I asked another person, and he told us we were headed in the wrong direction. We turned back, and stopped in a Scotiabank to take advantage of their air conditioning for a few minutes. They also had a water jug, and we helped ourselves to cold water.
When we finally got to the YMCA, the receptionist told me that swimming is only on Saturdays from 12 noon to 3pm (!!!). Apparently, they are booked up with swimming lessons for the rest of the time. Since it was Friday, we decided we could come back the following day for the recreational swim.
From the YMCA, we needed to go to the Edna Manley School of Performing Arts to enroll the children in summer camp. Now, I didn’t want to take a taxi, since we are trying to budget our funds. So, I asked the swimming instructor how to get there by bus. He directed us to the bus park, which, according to him, was just down the road. So, we set out again, on foot.
On the way, a young man with a thick New York accent asked us if we could help him out with some money to buy his son some Pedialyte. Clearly, if his son was dehydrated, walking in the sun to ask for money to buy Pedialyte was not a good move. However, I never believe people when they ask me for money on the street, so it’s not like he needed a believable reason. I also thought this guy might be a deportee because of his accent and his financial situation, but did not think I should just ask him. Perhaps next time I see him asking for Pedialyte money. Anyway, Nando did give him a few coins.
Turns out the bus park was at least six blocks away, and the sun showed no sign of relenting. Nevertheless, we made it and found out that there was a bus that went in the direction we needed. After waiting about a half an hour for the bus, we finally got on. We were among the last to get on, since we didn’t know where to stand in line. So, we were squished into the standing only area of the bus. For the duration of the ride, the girls found it funny to play a pushing and poking game. Not surprisingly, all of the Jamaican children, both the school children without their parents and the pre-schoolers with their parents were very nicely behaved and looked on in awe at my misbehaving children.
We disembarked from the bus at the National Stadium, and a lady told us that the College was at the end of the road. It turned out to be a very long road, and we walked another 30 minutes in the sun to the end of the road. By that time, it was 4:30, and the registration office was closed. Luckily, the lady gave me some registration forms to fill out and bring back.
We had made it this far without getting a cab, so I asked the guard at the college how to get to Emancipation Park, which is relatively close to our house. He told us we could walk there. And, we did. Another 20 minutes in the sun. The kids complained the whole way. And, as soon as we got to the park, the children, who allegedly could not bear to take another step, immediately proceeded to run around the park. By 6pm, when we left the park, it had cooled down considerably, and it was pleasant to walk around. There is a track around Emancipation Park, so perhaps I’ll come back to do some jogging or at least speed walking.
On the way home, we picked up some delicious patties. We finally walked in the door of our apartment at 7:30pm, after about 6 hours of walking around. I am hoping the girls are as tired as I am and will go to sleep early.
We’ll see how long we can continue to survive in Kingston on public transportation and by foot. It seems so extravagant to rent a car. Plus, I am not sure about driving on the wrong side of the road.
We arrived at our lovely apartment in Kingston, and everything was just dandy, except … the swimming pool was out of commission! Now, the swimming pool was the primary reason I chose this apartment complex. And, it is very hot in the summertime in Jamaica.
On our first full day in Kingston, after lunch at home, we decided to set out for the YMCA, as we had heard they had a swimming pool there. I thought perhaps we could sign up for the pool, and if we were very lucky, there would even be an exercise facility. So, Nando, Tatiana, Soraya, Raymi and I left the house around 1:30pm, in search of some respite from the Kingston sun.
Looking at Google maps, I could see that the swimming pool at the YMCA was just a few blocks from our apartment, so we decided to walk. I asked the guard at the gate how to get there, she told me to keep straight down the road we live on, and we’d get there. After about a block of walking in the sun, Raymi began to complain. I asked her if she’d rather stay behind with the security guard, and she decided she’d prefer to go with us.
As we were walking, Tatiana told me she thought she knew why most people in Jamaica are brown – because there is so much sun. Then, she asked me if I would get brown if I stayed in the sun too long. I appreciated her logic – after all, Jean-Baptiste Lamarck (1744 –1829) thought that Europeans would eventually get dark if they lived in the tropics for too long. Anyway, I digress, as Tatiana was not that interested in the topic and kept on walking.
After about four blocks, I asked another person, and he didn’t know where the YMCA was. So, we kept on. I asked another person, and he told us we were headed in the wrong direction. We turned back, and stopped in a Scotiabank to take advantage of their air conditioning for a few minutes. They also had a water jug, and we helped ourselves to cold water.
When we finally got to the YMCA, the receptionist told me that swimming is only on Saturdays from 12 noon to 3pm (!!!). Apparently, they are booked up with swimming lessons for the rest of the time. Since it was Friday, we decided we could come back the following day for the recreational swim.
From the YMCA, we needed to go to the Edna Manley School of Performing Arts to enroll the children in summer camp. Now, I didn’t want to take a taxi, since we are trying to budget our funds. So, I asked the swimming instructor how to get there by bus. He directed us to the bus park, which, according to him, was just down the road. So, we set out again, on foot.
On the way, a young man with a thick New York accent asked us if we could help him out with some money to buy his son some Pedialyte. Clearly, if his son was dehydrated, walking in the sun to ask for money to buy Pedialyte was not a good move. However, I never believe people when they ask me for money on the street, so it’s not like he needed a believable reason. I also thought this guy might be a deportee because of his accent and his financial situation, but did not think I should just ask him. Perhaps next time I see him asking for Pedialyte money. Anyway, Nando did give him a few coins.
Turns out the bus park was at least six blocks away, and the sun showed no sign of relenting. Nevertheless, we made it and found out that there was a bus that went in the direction we needed. After waiting about a half an hour for the bus, we finally got on. We were among the last to get on, since we didn’t know where to stand in line. So, we were squished into the standing only area of the bus. For the duration of the ride, the girls found it funny to play a pushing and poking game. Not surprisingly, all of the Jamaican children, both the school children without their parents and the pre-schoolers with their parents were very nicely behaved and looked on in awe at my misbehaving children.
We disembarked from the bus at the National Stadium, and a lady told us that the College was at the end of the road. It turned out to be a very long road, and we walked another 30 minutes in the sun to the end of the road. By that time, it was 4:30, and the registration office was closed. Luckily, the lady gave me some registration forms to fill out and bring back.
We had made it this far without getting a cab, so I asked the guard at the college how to get to Emancipation Park, which is relatively close to our house. He told us we could walk there. And, we did. Another 20 minutes in the sun. The kids complained the whole way. And, as soon as we got to the park, the children, who allegedly could not bear to take another step, immediately proceeded to run around the park. By 6pm, when we left the park, it had cooled down considerably, and it was pleasant to walk around. There is a track around Emancipation Park, so perhaps I’ll come back to do some jogging or at least speed walking.
On the way home, we picked up some delicious patties. We finally walked in the door of our apartment at 7:30pm, after about 6 hours of walking around. I am hoping the girls are as tired as I am and will go to sleep early.
We’ll see how long we can continue to survive in Kingston on public transportation and by foot. It seems so extravagant to rent a car. Plus, I am not sure about driving on the wrong side of the road.
A rough start to a long trip
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Thursday, May 28, 2009
Our flight this morning was at 6:55am. So, I asked Mark, our generous friend who offered us a ride to the airport, if he wouldn't mind picking us up at 5:30am, or actually 5:45, as the Kansas City airport is never crowded, or so I thought. After finally getting my bags packed at 1am the night before, I set my alarm for 5:00am, and went to sleep. I woke up, and took a nice hot shower. Then, around 5:25 am, Nando, my husband, said to me: What time did you say the plane is? I said 6:55, so Mark will be here at 5:45, and, “Oh, sh#$, that is wrong. I fuc$#ed up!!” We need to be at the airport at 6:00am, so we should have left at 5:00am....
I called Mark, and, luckily, he was ready and came right over. We made a mad rush out of the house and, by 5:40, am, me, Nando, and the three kids were packed into Mark's minivan and ready to go. I told Nando, who was driving, that we have to make the one hour drive in 45 minutes, because if we are not there by 6:25 am, we are not going to be able to get on the plane with checked bags.
On the way, I checked the flight on my Blackberry, and, to my chagrin, it was on time. We made it to the airport at 6:27am, and the SkyCap guy tells us it's too late. Resigned to the consequences of my miscalculation, we go inside, and wait in line to talk to an agent. A few minutes later, I was able to talk to an agent, and told her: “We're on the 6:55 flight to Miami.”
“Do you have bags?”
“Yes, four.”
“Okay, you need to hurry, you are late.”
And, can you believe she began to tag our bags! Every one of our four suitcases was a couple of pounds over, so we had to take a few things out. One of the things I took out was Nando's power drill. That was mistake number two, as that didn't make it onto the plane. But, we did! We made it on board despite an unusually long line at the security gate, ten carry-on bags of varying sizes, and the power drill. We were that family who got on last that everyone had to wait for. But, we got on!
We boarded the plane and headed to our row of seats, row 45, all the way at the back of the plane. Two of our assigned seats were taken by a woman with a small boy. She had moved because they were seated apart. I asked the lady if she would prefer to move or sit next to my kids. She told me she didn't mind sitting by my children, so Nando and I went up to rows 36 and 31, and went to sleep while our kids entertained themselves and the nearby passengers for the duration of the flight to Atlanta.
I was glad our layover was in Atlanta, because they have a play area. Play areas are one of the best ideas airports have had! An indoor playground while you are waiting for your flight – fabulous idea. Unfortunately, someone decided to close the play area at ATL. I noticed they didn't close the smoking lounge! Now we know where their priorities are.
Despite the lack of a designated play area, the children managed to entertain themselves with the two carry-on suitcases full of toys that we brought with us while we waited for our 1:30 pm flight to Miami. Tatiana and Soraya's favorite item turned out to be these Pokemon books that explain all of the characteristics of each of the Pokemons. I was hesitant to buy this book in Border's yesterday, but the girls insisted they would actually be interested in reading them. I suppose they were right.
The flight from Atlanta to Miami was fairly uneventful. Except, there was an older gentleman seated in front of Raymi. She dug her feet into his seat, and he asked me to ask her not to kick his seat. Thereafter, each time she used the seat to dig her feet into, I told her not to, and even prevented her from doing it a couple of times. But, she's five, so she kept forgetting. So, the woman seated next to the man, perhaps his daughter, turns around and tells me to tell her to stop. I told the woman that I was watching her, but she's five and sometimes forgets. She told me: “You need to control your daughter,” to which I replied:
“Don't you talk to me like that! Now, I was being nice...”
I guess my tone of voice did it and she kept her thoughts to herself. Now, I do try to limit the extent to which my children inconvenience others, but when we are going to be traveling from 5am to 10pm, I do let some things slide. And, I'm not that bad. In fact, as I was getting off of the plane, the man behind me told me he thought I was doing a great job of controlling my children!
After that plane ride, we made our way over to the international terminal, checked in for our flight to Kingston, and I spotted the famous Miami Airport restaurant: Carreta Cubana. We had some delicous empanadas, a Cuban sandwich, and a chocolate croissant. After that meal, fatigue began to set in – I should have had a cafe cubano as well. Fortunately, security was bearable, and we made it to the departure lounge, to find out that our 6:55pm flight had been delayed an hour.
We parked ourselves by the windows and I looked for things to entertain the children. Tatiana played on my laptop; Soraya watched a movie on the ipod, and Raymi found a woman to ask a million questions to. I sat down to relax and Raymi came over. She began to talk to a couple sitting near me, and told them we were going to be in Jamaica for 60 days. They asked me what I was going to do. I told them I was going to do research on people who have been deported from the US. The man told me that was brave.
It seems as if whenever I mention to Jamaicans the subject of my research they think that deportees are a dangerous lot, even though the vast majority are deported for non-violent crimes, and some are deported simply for being undocumented.
We made it to Kingston with a fairly uneventful plane ride. Tatiana and Soraya kept watching the ipod, and Raymi fell asleep. Not without kicking the chair of the woman in front of her, though. This woman, however, took it upon herself to ask Raymi not to do that.
Upon landing in Kingston, we got a taxi to our new apartment, and the woman who is renting to us was here to help us settle in. Finally, around 11pm, I was able to get to sleep.
Our flight this morning was at 6:55am. So, I asked Mark, our generous friend who offered us a ride to the airport, if he wouldn't mind picking us up at 5:30am, or actually 5:45, as the Kansas City airport is never crowded, or so I thought. After finally getting my bags packed at 1am the night before, I set my alarm for 5:00am, and went to sleep. I woke up, and took a nice hot shower. Then, around 5:25 am, Nando, my husband, said to me: What time did you say the plane is? I said 6:55, so Mark will be here at 5:45, and, “Oh, sh#$, that is wrong. I fuc$#ed up!!” We need to be at the airport at 6:00am, so we should have left at 5:00am....
I called Mark, and, luckily, he was ready and came right over. We made a mad rush out of the house and, by 5:40, am, me, Nando, and the three kids were packed into Mark's minivan and ready to go. I told Nando, who was driving, that we have to make the one hour drive in 45 minutes, because if we are not there by 6:25 am, we are not going to be able to get on the plane with checked bags.
On the way, I checked the flight on my Blackberry, and, to my chagrin, it was on time. We made it to the airport at 6:27am, and the SkyCap guy tells us it's too late. Resigned to the consequences of my miscalculation, we go inside, and wait in line to talk to an agent. A few minutes later, I was able to talk to an agent, and told her: “We're on the 6:55 flight to Miami.”
“Do you have bags?”
“Yes, four.”
“Okay, you need to hurry, you are late.”
And, can you believe she began to tag our bags! Every one of our four suitcases was a couple of pounds over, so we had to take a few things out. One of the things I took out was Nando's power drill. That was mistake number two, as that didn't make it onto the plane. But, we did! We made it on board despite an unusually long line at the security gate, ten carry-on bags of varying sizes, and the power drill. We were that family who got on last that everyone had to wait for. But, we got on!
We boarded the plane and headed to our row of seats, row 45, all the way at the back of the plane. Two of our assigned seats were taken by a woman with a small boy. She had moved because they were seated apart. I asked the lady if she would prefer to move or sit next to my kids. She told me she didn't mind sitting by my children, so Nando and I went up to rows 36 and 31, and went to sleep while our kids entertained themselves and the nearby passengers for the duration of the flight to Atlanta.
I was glad our layover was in Atlanta, because they have a play area. Play areas are one of the best ideas airports have had! An indoor playground while you are waiting for your flight – fabulous idea. Unfortunately, someone decided to close the play area at ATL. I noticed they didn't close the smoking lounge! Now we know where their priorities are.
Despite the lack of a designated play area, the children managed to entertain themselves with the two carry-on suitcases full of toys that we brought with us while we waited for our 1:30 pm flight to Miami. Tatiana and Soraya's favorite item turned out to be these Pokemon books that explain all of the characteristics of each of the Pokemons. I was hesitant to buy this book in Border's yesterday, but the girls insisted they would actually be interested in reading them. I suppose they were right.
The flight from Atlanta to Miami was fairly uneventful. Except, there was an older gentleman seated in front of Raymi. She dug her feet into his seat, and he asked me to ask her not to kick his seat. Thereafter, each time she used the seat to dig her feet into, I told her not to, and even prevented her from doing it a couple of times. But, she's five, so she kept forgetting. So, the woman seated next to the man, perhaps his daughter, turns around and tells me to tell her to stop. I told the woman that I was watching her, but she's five and sometimes forgets. She told me: “You need to control your daughter,” to which I replied:
“Don't you talk to me like that! Now, I was being nice...”
I guess my tone of voice did it and she kept her thoughts to herself. Now, I do try to limit the extent to which my children inconvenience others, but when we are going to be traveling from 5am to 10pm, I do let some things slide. And, I'm not that bad. In fact, as I was getting off of the plane, the man behind me told me he thought I was doing a great job of controlling my children!
After that plane ride, we made our way over to the international terminal, checked in for our flight to Kingston, and I spotted the famous Miami Airport restaurant: Carreta Cubana. We had some delicous empanadas, a Cuban sandwich, and a chocolate croissant. After that meal, fatigue began to set in – I should have had a cafe cubano as well. Fortunately, security was bearable, and we made it to the departure lounge, to find out that our 6:55pm flight had been delayed an hour.
We parked ourselves by the windows and I looked for things to entertain the children. Tatiana played on my laptop; Soraya watched a movie on the ipod, and Raymi found a woman to ask a million questions to. I sat down to relax and Raymi came over. She began to talk to a couple sitting near me, and told them we were going to be in Jamaica for 60 days. They asked me what I was going to do. I told them I was going to do research on people who have been deported from the US. The man told me that was brave.
It seems as if whenever I mention to Jamaicans the subject of my research they think that deportees are a dangerous lot, even though the vast majority are deported for non-violent crimes, and some are deported simply for being undocumented.
We made it to Kingston with a fairly uneventful plane ride. Tatiana and Soraya kept watching the ipod, and Raymi fell asleep. Not without kicking the chair of the woman in front of her, though. This woman, however, took it upon herself to ask Raymi not to do that.
Upon landing in Kingston, we got a taxi to our new apartment, and the woman who is renting to us was here to help us settle in. Finally, around 11pm, I was able to get to sleep.
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