On Monday work duties took me to the airport, a one-room school atop a mountain, a ship wreck, a house haunted by a woman who killed her several husbands and the Hip Strip.
I was accompanying a handheld cameraman named Bill. We were assigned to get footage of athletes arriving in the airport and other “flavor” to add to the broadcast. That means bump shots like you’d see before or after a commercial break often with sponsor logos and voice over.
While driving I noticed there was a knife wedged between the dashboard and window frame. Jammed just so the driver could reach it in a moments notice. I pointed it out to Anthony, our driver. He told us it’s actually illegal to drive with a knife, you have to keep it in the trunk. I guess he was pulled over or something because he recalled a court appearance where he insisted to the judge that the knife was there in case of an emergency where he might have to cut himself out of his seat belt. Bill suggested Anthony might want to buy one of the SkyMall institution window smasher seat belt cutter things. Then I said it was sure in easy reach should someone come smashing through the window. That was the end of that conversation.
After the airport (we were told to stop filming after we shot everything we needed… phew!) we headed to the top of Mt. Zion. Anthony drove with precision up a pot hole filled gravel road. At the top there was a small village of sorts. A few shanty homes and a church. We hopped out to get some shots of the golf course from up above. There were goats wandering around. Anthony led us about and the fellows living there let me sample some naseberry. One guy was up in a giant tree. He’d shake the branches and down the naseberry would fall. Cracking open the soft fruit was easy. I scraped out the delicious meat inside.
There is a private school nearby. Young boys are dressed in school uniforms that UPS would be proud to call their own. Several were playing kick the can (plastic bottle). They were excited to see us with a camera. (not my camera though! I have some grainy blackberry pics I’ll post later…)
After lunch we set out for a shipwreck just east of here. It was nothing special save for the fact that there is a decent sized boat just chilling 50 meters off shore.
The White House is a Great House. No, it’s called The White House and it is classified as a Great House. Apparently, there are only so many Great Houses in the Caribbean and 15 on the island of Jamaica. This particular one was the site of one nasty wife. She killed her several white husbands and slave lovers. Eventually, legend says, one slave lover killer her and her soul still haunts the house. Her tomb is nearby adjacent to a babbling stream running atop a man-made stone bed.
The Hip Strip is Montego Bay’s downtown area. I didn’t see any clubs where we went but there were plenty of little stand selling all sorts of Jamaican souvenirs such as hats, bags, carvings and t-shirts. I was scouting out a back alley and was immediately invited to check out this special merchandise. Instead of the lowly traveler, I could earnestly say I was working for TV, the Golf Tournament, that everyone knows about. Some were excited about the prospect of a TV camera coming down their alley.
Jamaicans are super friendly. That means at every opportunity they will simply say hi. Of course, I have to say hi back to everyone and if the conversation goes anywhere when it’s time to leave they give a fist pound. “Respect, mon.” Yeah! Respect!
Monday night there was a party for all the athletes and associates. I sampled some “sipping rum,” not to be shot or mixed! Appelton was not bad.
Always like hearing about what you are doing and seeing. Love the photos!