In 2011, I visited Boston Bay, Jamaica three times in that year. I would go back again today because I just love that little island.

Here are some notes from my first trip:

Jan 5: So much of Jamaica is in poverty. So many people just sitting along the road. The women looked nice but the guys were wearing such dirty, gross shirts. Tons and tons of trash on the roads. Lots of deserted buildings-many small shacks that looked like they were going to fall apart any minute.

Jan 8: As I was taking a taxi to Reach Falls, one guy in the taxi was so flirtatious. Giving me kisses on the cheek, hugging me (and this is someone I never met before this taxi ride!) So crazy there are no boundaries with most of the men here. After Reach Falls, a new friend and I stopped for lunch and a guy came up to us and asks if we want any coconut. We let him know we were going to go get some lunch. He said he can make us chicken but had to go to the store. My friend thought it wouldn’t be too long so we decided to let him make us lunch. Ended up, he went to a nearby restaurant and got us our chicken there but still said he made it when he came back (and charged us more)…awww, to be a trusting tourist!

Jan 10: I went to a nearby club the night before and the Jamaican I went with told me I had to stay with him and I couldn’t talk to anyone. Imagine my shock when I heard this…It sure put a damper on my evening. It was an interesting night…I felt like I was at a junior high dance-all the guys were standing around the edge of the room while the women were in the middle dancing.

Jan 11: Went to Port Antonio and it was a little overwhelming-felt like a mini NYC. So much in such a small space. I asked these two older women if they knew of a place I could get a t-shirt. One nodded her head and said: “Let me take you to Jenny’s place. Follow me.” As I followed her, she asked me several times if I had a hold of my bag tight. She said “Never show your money!” We went up and down these little alleys and finally were at Jenny’s-I never would have found it on my own!

Why did/do I love Jamaica so much? The people. They have so little but know how to have a good time (I know my night at the club doesn’t paint a fun picture…but that was rare for me while I was there). Most of my days were just hanging out on the street or the beach with the locals-chit chating about anything and everything. They made me laugh and laugh (and what we mostly talked about was not PG material so I’m not going to include it here because my family reads this). They knew how to make me smile.



“Just pick up the phone” & Moldova

“Just pick up the phone” & Moldova

I want to keep my family’s privacy through all this because I am the one choosing to write about this and not them. So here is a conversation with “T.”

It’s not the first time I’ve been this depressed…when it’s happened before, I dealt with it in an unhealthy way and took it out on T. I was horrible. I was mean. I’m SO THANKFUL T forgave me. We talked last week and she asked:

“Are you that low again?”

Me: “Yes, I’m that low.”

T: “I just don’t know how to deal with depression and you and I handle it in such different ways. I’m scared you are going to lash out on me.”

Me: “Well, if I lash out, it’s because I’m depressed and not thinking straight…I haven’t lashed out this time. “

T: “I know…I just don’t know what to do for you.”

Me: “Just pick up the phone like you just did.”

I’ve been thinking about how I want to use this blog and I want to write about past vacations, dates, boyfriends while also including current happenings. Like I mentioned earlier, I’ve always kept a journal and so to get my head focused on something else, I thought I’d write about my past some. Hopefully, you all find it somewhat entertaining and will want to come back and read again.

So to begin with, in 1997, I went to Moldova. Some of you know why I went to Moldova and I don’t really want to go into the why here but I do want to share some of the notes I have from that trip. So here they are:

June 19: Met my host family today…I walked up to their apartment complex and it looked like it hasn’t been taken care of in years-so run down and I was a little scared. Inside the apartment, it’s small but homey. My host mom speaks French which released A LOT of tension from both her and I. When I was taking out my contacts, my host mom came into the bathroom and peered over my shoulder looking so intensely at my actions.

June 21: She sits in the bathtub with the door open and a stranger in the house. Who is this crazy woman? My host mom.

June 22: Olga, my host sister, loves Nirvana. She wore a Jon Bon Jovi t-shirt yesterday. Asked if I liked Metallica, Guns & Roses, Sheryl Crow, and Alanis Morissette.

June 28: Met some friends of my host parents and one question someone asked me that makes me chuckle is “Do I have a maid?”

July 1: Sounds heard throughout the day at the apartment complex: babies crying; pounding of the carpets; and the squeaking of the swing set.