2014 Brazil World Cup: Day 16

[Mosiah]

What a journey it has been!

The only thing that could have made it better would have been Jamaica's presence at the Big Dance.

I missed a few days of my journals because of the lack of wi-fi or power to my phone, or simply running from airplanes to buses.

But the last 72 hours have been...unforgettable, if I were to understate it. It started with us missing the flight from Sao Paulo to Manaus on June 24. We had tickets for the Honduras-Switzerland match the next day and were lucky to get another flight that morning. And how wonderful was that! We flew on Azul, Brazil’s jetBlue, so we got to watch the Nigeria-Argentina match live, 30,000 ft above the Amazon jungle! Everyone on the plane was tuned in to the match and there was a hushed roar on the aircraft when Nigeria equalized minutes after Messi’s opening goal.

Upon arrival in Manaus, we were able to conveniently leave our luggage at the airport lockers and take a bus directly to the stadium. The first thing that strikes you about Manaus is many of the airport personnel spoke good English, and went out of their way to present the city to you as a tourist destination. Nowhere else we visited in Brasil was quite like this, and it was a real pity that we were not going to have the time to do a boat ride up/down the Amazon and visit an Amerindian village.

The other thing that strikes you is the heat and humidity of Manaus. I was not complaining, as it beats the chilly temperatures of Sao Paulo any day, but just walking around would cause beads of sweat to just pour from the pores.

The Amazon Arena is huge and beautiful and the atmosphere was a whole heap better than the other match I saw between Ecuador and Switzerland. No, I was not following the Swiss team but it just so happened that those are the tickets I received. We sold our Portugal-USA tickets to remain in Rio for a couple extra days, and I have no regrets!!!

Following the Manaus match, we had to catch the bus to Boa Vista as we began making our way back home. A luxurious coach took us through the Amazon jungle throughout the night. Yes, there was not much to see, just trees after trees and intense darkness, for hundreds of miles on this 11 hour trip. The road was pretty good for the most part but at one point we hit a series of potholes and I could have sworn the bus was going to be involved in a major accident out there in the jungle. But the driver steadied the huge vehicle and we proceeded safely to Boa Vista.

From Boa Vista, we booked another bus to Bomfim, at the border with Guyana. This was about an hour and a half. Bonfim and Lethem, the towns on either side of the Brazil-Guyana border, are interesting towns. Brazilian and Guyanese nationals blend seamlessly with one another. The Brazilians speak fluent English with a Guyanese accent and the Guyanese, I suspect, speak Portuguese fluently and with a Brazilian accent. I know the Guyana gold mines are a little south of there, going into the Amazon jungle but I am not sure what other industries occur around there. But many of the residents on the Guyana side have opened “tour” companies that run minibus service between Lethem and Georgetown, a trip that usually takes 17 - 18 hours over 600 miles. We bought tickets for one of those minibuses and that’s when the journey began.

Will follow up after I board this plane!

[Tilla]

Thanks for the update I was wondering if you got mugged why we didn't see Days 11 thru 15. Good to see you are fine.

So will you file reports for the other days you missed?

[Mosiah]

Yes, I will catch up with the other reports. But right now, let me share with y'all my last adventure of the trip.

Okay, so firstly, it’s the rainy season in Guyana. In typical Guyanese style, when you think you were finally ready to get rolling on this trek through the rain forest and savannah, the driver would make another stop to pick up stuff. Apart from the passengers, these buses bring Brazilian goods to Georgetown. So, instead of a 6 PM departure, we finally got underway at 8 PM just as the rains began to come down. I tried not to let anything bother me, not even the Little Kaieteur Falls that had sprung at the sliding door where I was sitting.

The driver, Suresh, must have done this trip hundreds of times because on several occasions I felt I was on the Dakar leg of that famous rally race. On numerous occasions, the bus tipped precariously on its tyres as Suresh maneuvered his way through countless potholes and uneven surfaces. Maintaining a steady speed for the most part, regardless of the innumerable bumps and potholes on the dirt road, I kept telling myself that Suresh knows what he is doing. Keep calm! As tired as I was, I did not see how I could sleep for a one minute while the journey was like this. But the sleep won over after the first 200 kilometers or so.

In the middle of the night, at a location only marked by one of the few arrows indicating a curve ahead, an indigenous-looking young lady on the bus asked for a stop. We had not passed human life for hundreds of miles, we had not seen light save for the fireflies. Looking around, there was darkness for as far as the eyes could see. Where was this woman going?!!? How many rivers would she swim across, how many vines would she swing from, to get to her final destination? She got her bags and disappeared into the black hole. For all we know, her welcoming party could have been right there watching her disembark, from the safe haven of their rain forest camouflage. The thought alone was scary and I was glad for us to be on our way!

The minibuses from the various companies travel in convoys, a habit that was to prove invaluable in a short time.

At around 1 PM or so, the passengers and drivers of four minibuses made a stop where we could all catch a nap for about 2 or 3 hours in hammocks provided at the facility for $2.50. I opted to stay in the minibus as I never found hammocks comfortable and was a bit concerned about mosquito bites, even though I had not seen or felt any at any point along the journey.

At some minutes to 4 AM the convoy set out again.

Morning soon broke and I was wondering how I was going to make the best of this quite awful trip. The road was horrendous for hundreds of miles and Suresh kept us all religious as he pushed the limits of the vehicle’s center of gravity. I said to myself, never again! I should have waited for the flight from Lethem to GT, even though it was leaving at 3 pm later that day.

Then we came across a mud hole that gave us a couple of alternatives. Suresh chose the more level side and got stuck in mud about a foot deep. He tried to reverse, but we stood there, wheels spinning out. The men in the bus, wasted no time kicking off footwear, rolling up pant legs or removing trousers altogether as we jumped out and attempted to push the vehicle through the deep red mud. The vehicle was not budging. We tried pushing it back out, but it still would not cooperate. Some of the buses ahead of us had clearly made it through. Maybe Suresh had not picked up enough speed as he approached the quagmire.

Soon, other buses appeared on either side of the mud hole. One pulled our stuck bus out with a rope, but we were all wondering, okay, so what next? Surely, the way Suresh attempted was the way to go as the other side had a deep gorge that was filled with water 2 feet in places.

Then a driver of a minibus on the other side revved his engine and made a dash for the impossible side. As it fell into the hole it tipped dangerously towards its side, but the driver maintained course, as mud went flying everywhere. For a split second it appeared it was not going to make it is as it struggled to clear the steep incline of the mud pool. But, it did, to much applause!

Suresh decided to give it a try from the opposite end. Similarly, the bus swayed precariously as if to overturn, engine revving, wheels skidding, but Suresh also made it safely to the other side. I could not have been more relieved. Spending a day, or worse, a night, in the jungle, Brazilian or Guyanese, was not something I had planned for in my World Cup vacation.

The next minibus attempted but got stuck on the far side of the mud lake. No amount of towing by another bus was bringing this vehicle out. The drivers admitted that only a truck could rescue this bus. Luckily, it was not long before a truck came along and pulled the vehicle to the other side. The truck itself went through and appeared to get stuck itself. That would have been interesting! But it managed to pull through. Other buses began to attempt the side at which Suresh had got stuck but they came through okay, without the excitement that the mud hole had generated.

So, we were on our way. Or so we thought. Our bus could not start. It would not push start, even. They thought it was water in the engine, or a gas-flooded engine. Whatever it was, we were not going anywhere any time soon. Two other drivers, one carrying mostly Brazilians to GT and the other, a truck driver that had come up later at the mud hole, stayed with us and the mechanics among them tried to sort out the problem. I had already begun to psyche up myself for a long stay in this wilderness, where only satellite phones worked and where other passing vehicles would already be filled with passengers. Regular cars did not attempt this voyage but we did see a few 4x4s that flew easily through the mud hole.

But, to our surprise, the wait was not long, our vehicle was soon up and running. One of the minibuses stayed behind us as we carried on to GT. What was supposed to take around 17 hours was now looking a couple hours longer.

It turns out that our vehicle was not exactly 100. We struggled going up the slightest inclines and at time we just simply could not move. Apparently, there was a part that did not like getting soaked every time we went through the water puddles, which were impossible to avoid. So, every half an hour or so we had to dry this part off using the hot air from the other bus’ muffler. Imagine the frustration. But we all kept our cool and rolled with the punches.

We bypassed the hours talking and bonding. One of the passengers only spoke Portuguese, but she was nice, in a silent-movie kind of way.

A few encounters with rain forest wildlife helped to maintain our sanity. The first encounter was with a rat, but this was not your every day New Kingston rodent, swagging with its Beats headphones. It was a jungle rat. Bet you’ve never seen one! Then we had 2 separate sightings of what looked like your regular house cat, but with no form of house or human life for literally 100s of miles, we are going to say we saw two of the many small wild cats that exist in the Guyanese jungle. The markings were certainly consistent with that. At one of the rest stops, I made a big deal photographing a bird I had never seen before. A Guyanese lady on our bus eventually explained that that bird was a scavenger, like our John Crow. I must have appeared quite silly to the locals who watched me creep on my stomach to photograph their common vulture! Then there were the large butterflies of iridescent violets and blues that fluttered up to the windscreen and disappeared into the forest.

Strangely enough, it was a deep hole that splashed mud up to the windscreen that appeared to do something for the vehicle and allowed us to have a good uninterrupted run of several miles.

Guyana border police and customs made couple checks along the way. Despite the banana republic attire – t-shirt, jeans and thonged footwear – they had all our names ready to be checked off at each post.

After one such checkpoint, 3 minibuses and a truck met at the Essequibo River where at least 3 other tributaries poured into the mighty river. On the other side, a ferry pulled away from the bank to retrieve us. We took the opportunity to wash the mud from our arms and legs in the river. The journey across went smoothly.

The goal was to reach Linden, the bauxite-mining town we learned about in Caribbean geography. They said the road would improve substantially after that and GT would be only 40 km away. This Linden town just could not appear, as we motored along over some of the worst stretches of road anywhere. We remarked that the town of Linden was like Atlantis, a unicorn or a mermaid, or a cruel joke by the Guyanese that the road will improve once we get there.

We made another stop at a police checkpoint where once again they were expecting us. My Jamaican bredren and I were the last ones to present our passports.

“Jamaicans?” the officer asked us.

“Yes,” we responded.

“Good morning! His Imperial Majesty Haile Selassie the First, Jah Rastafari!” he chanted.

“Yuh a rasta?” I asked him.

“Yuh don’t have to dread to be Rasta. This is not a dreadlocks ting…” he responded, finishing the words to Morgan Heritage’s song. The Guyanese are nice people.

At our last rest stop, I decided to check out the labba roti. I was advised that labba was actually a large rodent. Well, being a lover of roti, I was sure the combination couldn’t be too bad. And it wasn’t, mainly because the strong curry would have overpowered the actual flavor of any rat…erm…meat.

We may not have got to Linden just yet, but there were several signs that civilization was within reach. We saw two men walking, other vehicles became more common along with some houses and shops. It still took us a good while to get to Linden, but when we did, the road did indeed improve and it was smooth sailing straight to GT, except for a couple more police checkpoints along the way.

What began at 8 PM the previous day, finally ended at 8 PM yesterday.

Surviving the trip were the Brazilian lady who sat up front with the driver, the Guyanese native who was now an educator in Connecticut, her former Guyanese schoolmate who recently retired from the RAF, a British anthropologist who had spent the last two months in the jungle with the Amerindian people, an Amerindian man from a tribe that was more remote than the one the Brit had been studying, my Jamaican bredren and I. And of course, there was Suresh, our driver. I shall remain in touch with many of them.

[Peter R]

Rath! You rivalling Naipaul now!! You've read "The Middle Passage"? If you haven't you'd like the part about Guyana... sounds very much like some of what you just described.

I hereby award you the RBSC Nobel Prize for Literature. What an adventure!

So where and when does it end?

[Mosiah]

I am home now, sadly! Watching the fans at the FIFA Fan Fest on Copacabana Beach brought tears to my eyes today.

No, I have not read Middle Passage, but I will now!

Naipaul is a great writer. I know you are just being kind.

I humbly accept your award. I hope I was able to bring you right there with me, touching even a little bit of my experience.

I will post my ideas of Guyana later.

[Peter R]

The Middle Passage was written in the early sixties... I read it maybe in the last decade and strangely, Naipauls' observations could be applied to contemporary society; nothing much has changed since then in these parts.

You should definitely give it a read. I'm sure you'll enjoy it.

[Don1]

Epic!!!

Yes, I will catch up with the other reports. But right now, let me share with y'all my last adventure of the trip.

Okay, so firstly, it’s the rainy season in Guyana. In typical Guyanese style, when you think you were finally ready to get rolling on this trek through the rain forest and savannah, the driver would make another stop to pick up stuff. Apart from the passengers, these buses bring Brazilian goods to Georgetown. So, instead of a 6 PM departure, we finally got underway at 8 PM just as the rains began to come down. I tried not to let anything bother me, not even the Little Kaieteur Falls that had sprung at the sliding door where I was sitting.

The driver, Suresh, must have done this trip hundreds of times because on several occasions I felt I was on the Dakar leg of that famous rally race. On numerous occasions, the bus tipped precariously on its tyres as Suresh maneuvered his way through countless potholes and uneven surfaces. Maintaining a steady speed for the most part, regardless of the innumerable bumps and potholes on the dirt road, I kept telling myself that Suresh knows what he is doing. Keep calm! As tired as I was, I did not see how I could sleep for a one minute while the journey was like this. But the sleep won over after the first 200 kilometers or so.

In the middle of the night, at a location only marked by one of the few arrows indicating a curve ahead, an indigenous-looking young lady on the bus asked for a stop. We had not passed human life for hundreds of miles, we had not seen light save for the fireflies. Looking around, there was darkness for as far as the eyes could see. Where was this woman going?!!? How many rivers would she swim across, how many vines would she swing from, to get to her final destination? She got her bags and disappeared into the black hole. For all we know, her welcoming party could have been right there watching her disembark, from the safe haven of their rain forest camouflage. The thought alone was scary and I was glad for us to be on our way!

The minibuses from the various companies travel in convoys, a habit that was to prove invaluable in a short time.

At around 1 PM or so, the passengers and drivers of four minibuses made a stop where we could all catch a nap for about 2 or 3 hours in hammocks provided at the facility for $2.50. I opted to stay in the minibus as I never found hammocks comfortable and was a bit concerned about mosquito bites, even though I had not seen or felt any at any point along the journey.

At some minutes to 4 AM the convoy set out again.

Morning soon broke and I was wondering how I was going to make the best of this quite awful trip. The road was horrendous for hundreds of miles and Suresh kept us all religious as he pushed the limits of the vehicle’s center of gravity. I said to myself, never again! I should have waited for the flight from Lethem to GT, even though it was leaving at 3 pm later that day.

Then we came across a mud hole that gave us a couple of alternatives. Suresh chose the more level side and got stuck in mud about a foot deep. He tried to reverse, but we stood there, wheels spinning out. The men in the bus, wasted no time kicking off footwear, rolling up pant legs or removing trousers altogether as we jumped out and attempted to push the vehicle through the deep red mud. The vehicle was not budging. We tried pushing it back out, but it still would not cooperate. Some of the buses ahead of us had clearly made it through. Maybe Suresh had not picked up enough speed as he approached the quagmire.

Soon, other buses appeared on either side of the mud hole. One pulled our stuck bus out with a rope, but we were all wondering, okay, so what next? Surely, the way Suresh attempted was the way to go as the other side had a deep gorge that was filled with water 2 feet in places.

Then a driver of a minibus on the other side revved his engine and made a dash for the impossible side. As it fell into the hole it tipped dangerously towards its side, but the driver maintained course, as mud went flying everywhere. For a split second it appeared it was not going to make it is as it struggled to clear the steep incline of the mud pool. But, it did, to much applause!

Suresh decided to give it a try from the opposite end. Similarly, the bus swayed precariously as if to overturn, engine revving, wheels skidding, but Suresh also made it safely to the other side. I could not have been more relieved. Spending a day, or worse, a night, in the jungle, Brazilian or Guyanese, was not something I had planned for in my World Cup vacation.

The next minibus attempted but got stuck on the far side of the mud lake. No amount of towing by another bus was bringing this vehicle out. The drivers admitted that only a truck could rescue this bus. Luckily, it was not long before a truck came along and pulled the vehicle to the other side. The truck itself went through and appeared to get stuck itself. That would have been interesting! But it managed to pull through. Other buses began to attempt the side at which Suresh had got stuck but they came through okay, without the excitement that the mud hole had generated.

So, we were on our way. Or so we thought. Our bus could not start. It would not push start, even. They thought it was water in the engine, or a gas-flooded engine. Whatever it was, we were not going anywhere any time soon. Two other drivers, one carrying mostly Brazilians to GT and the other, a truck driver that had come up later at the mud hole, stayed with us and the mechanics among them tried to sort out the problem. I had already begun to psyche up myself for a long stay in this wilderness, where only satellite phones worked and where other passing vehicles would already be filled with passengers. Regular cars did not attempt this voyage but we did see a few 4x4s that flew easily through the mud hole.

But, to our surprise, the wait was not long, our vehicle was soon up and running. One of the minibuses stayed behind us as we carried on to GT. What was supposed to take around 17 hours was now looking a couple hours longer.

It turns out that our vehicle was not exactly 100. We struggled going up the slightest inclines and at time we just simply could not move. Apparently, there was a part that did not like getting soaked every time we went through the water puddles, which were impossible to avoid. So, every half an hour or so we had to dry this part off using the hot air from the other bus’ muffler. Imagine the frustration. But we all kept our cool and rolled with the punches.

We bypassed the hours talking and bonding. One of the passengers only spoke Portuguese, but she was nice, in a silent-movie kind of way.

A few encounters with rain forest wildlife helped to maintain our sanity. The first encounter was with a rat, but this was not your every day New Kingston rodent, swagging with its Beats headphones. It was a jungle rat. Bet you’ve never seen one! Then we had 2 separate sightings of what looked like your regular house cat, but with no form of house or human life for literally 100s of miles, we are going to say we saw two of the many small wild cats that exist in the Guyanese jungle. The markings were certainly consistent with that. At one of the rest stops, I made a big deal photographing a bird I had never seen before. A Guyanese lady on our bus eventually explained that that bird was a scavenger, like our John Crow. I must have appeared quite silly to the locals who watched me creep on my stomach to photograph their common vulture! Then there were the large butterflies of iridescent violets and blues that fluttered up to the windscreen and disappeared into the forest.

Strangely enough, it was a deep hole that splashed mud up to the windscreen that appeared to do something for the vehicle and allowed us to have a good uninterrupted run of several miles.

Guyana border police and customs made couple checks along the way. Despite the banana republic attire – t-shirt, jeans and thonged footwear – they had all our names ready to be checked off at each post.

After one such checkpoint, 3 minibuses and a truck met at the Essequibo River where at least 3 other tributaries poured into the mighty river. On the other side, a ferry pulled away from the bank to retrieve us. We took the opportunity to wash the mud from our arms and legs in the river. The journey across went smoothly.

The goal was to reach Linden, the bauxite-mining town we learned about in Caribbean geography. They said the road would improve substantially after that and GT would be only 40 km away. This Linden town just could not appear, as we motored along over some of the worst stretches of road anywhere. We remarked that the town if Linden was like Atlantis, a unicorn or a mermaid, or a cruel joke by the Guyanese that the road will improve once we get there.

We made another stop at a police checkpoint where once again they were expecting us. My Jamaican bredren and I were the last ones to present our passports.

“Jamaicans?” the officer asked us.

“Yes,” we responded.

“Good morning! His Imperial Majesty Haile Selassie the First, Jah Rastafari!” he chanted.

“Yuh a rasta?” I asked him.

“Yuh don’t have to dread to be Rasta. This is not a dreadlocks ting…” he responded, finishing the words to Morgan Heritage’s song. The Guyanese are nice people.

At our last rest stop, I decided to check out the labba roti. I was advised that labba was actually a large rodent. Well, being a lover of roti, I was sure the combination couldn’t be too bad. And it wasn’t, mainly because the strong curry would have overpowered the actual flavor of any rat…erm…meat.

We may not have got to Linden just yet, but there were several signs that civilization was within reach. We saw two men walking, other vehicles became more common along with some houses and shops. It still took us a good while to get to Linden, but when we did, the road did indeed improve and it was smooth sailing straight to GT, except for a couple more police checkpoints along the way.

What began at 8 PM the previous day, finally ended at 8 PM yesterday.

Surviving the trip were the Brazilian lady who sat up front with the driver, the Guyanese native who was now an educator in Connecticut, her former Guyanese schoolmate who recently retired from the RAF, a British anthropologist who had spent the last two months in the jungle with the Amerindian people, an Amerindian man from a tribe that was more remote than the one the Brit had been studying, my Jamaican bredren and I. And of course, there was Suresh, our driver. I shall remain in touch with many of them.

Lewis & Clark nuh ave nutten pon dis puppa!

[HL]

Excellent!!

I would buy this book.

You should contact a publisher with a manuscript.

btw: I take it that there were urinals and toilets at strategic location along this long trip (of course outfitted with soap, sanitizers, paper-towels and toilet paper)

[Mosiah]

Woooiiee!

Thanks!

[Mosiah]

Thanks, HL!

Yes, we made several scheduled stops along the way. It was amazing to me to see running water and even electricity in some of these places. The toilets were generally well stocked but if they weren't we all managed to hold it for the next stop. The vehicle bouncing around on those rough roads didn't help, however. Of course, some of the guys had to urinate outside of these planned stops and that was not a problem. I doubt any police officer would have handed out tickets in these remote areas.

Indeed, during our last police stop very close to Guyana, I had to go, which I did within full view of the officers.

And our Connecticut friend was always ready with the wet wipes and sanitizer.

[Tilla]

Good read. Very interesting!

[Peter R]

That was your last adventure? What happened in GT? You flew home from there? How is GT these days anyway?

[Jangle]

We bypassed the hours talking and bonding. One of the passengers only spoke Portuguese, but she was nice, in a silent-movie kind of way.

Excellent writing . Me know seh yuh head couldn't just big so fi no purpose.

[Paul Marin]

I am home now, sadly! Watching the fans at the FIFA Fan Fest on Copacabana Beach brought tears to my eyes today.

No, I have not read Middle Passage, but I will now!

Naipaul is a great writer. I know you are just being kind.

I humbly accept your award. I hope I was able to bring you right there with me, touching even a little bit of my experience.

I will post my ideas of Guyana later.

Great story Mo...Peter, I didn't realise you had read it, I emailed it to the family. Mo, our father is from Guyana and has made the trip into the jungle more than once. I am sure he will enjoy reading your story.

[Mosiah]

My new-found friends, the Connecticut teacher and the former RAF officer, both Guyanese, took me on the town, after I had scraped off the red mud under a cold shower.

Georgetown is a strange place. It has a feel of Havana, Cuba, even though I have never been there. Things seem a little stuck in the past. There are hundreds of beautiful wooden structures badly in need of repair and a coat of paint. The government buildings and courthouses are architectural gems. The crowning joy must be St. George's Cathedral, arguably the tallest wooden structure in the world. Some also say the largest. View it here: http://guyaneseonline.wordpress.com/...itri-allicock/

Jamaica has no structures like those I saw in Guyana. (We are talking buildings now, people! Keep it clean! ) Apparently, most of our architectural masterpieces were lost in the 1907 earthquake and fire, and the rest were badly damaged by hurricanes over the years. Guyana does not have to face those natural disasters.

Unfortunately, the two times I have been in Georgetown were at night.

Which perfectly segues us into GT nightlife! First we went to 704, a sports bar which sits atop 3 restaurants, one of which was Pitbull's Miami Subs Grill. The other two are also franchises bought from US chains.

Not even Usain Bolt's Tracks & Records may have as many tv screens and projectors as 704. The place was buzzing. The agent I met on my way to Brazil passed through for a few minutes. There was a good mix of people of Indian and African heritage, which has to be stated given the racism crap that happens in the country. I understand the owner had some money puddung from long time but only recently decided to spend it on such establishments. People were supporting it since it did not appear to be dirty money. You must realise that Guyana believes there is no country as corrupt as theirs.

704 started clearing out a bit early. Not sure if people were going home or to other venues. We decided to check out a place with some palm trees. I'm deliberately not naming it right now. It clearly seemed a popular place but the people we were hanging with said they weren't feeling the place. Turns out some people had got shot there on a few occasions and the management, and some of its patrons, may not have the cleanest image.

On the way to our next stop we stopped by a 24 hour bakery where we made a couple purchases. Can’t remember a 24 hour Captain’s Bakery in Jamaica.

So we then went to a rooftop venue called Gravity Lounge. Not sure if Kingston has anything as nice as this place. You take an elevator from the sidewalk up 6 floors to this lounge. The outdoor patio blends nicely into the indoor area. The décor is modern and understated. It is one of the favourites of my Guyanese friends as it is black-owned. Only then did I notice an absence of Indians. I did see some around the other side, close to the bar. Pity we have to look at things like this, but that’s the reality.

The DJ was pretty decent, playing a good mix of dancehall and soca. At times it felt like I was at the Quad. Lots of girls dancing with dem one anedda and when approached wanted to keep it that way. Did I miss a spot when I was washing off the mud?

We must have been there a while because it was around 4 am when we decided to leave the lounge. I thought about getting some food. You see, I didn’t eat much when I was in the jungle. We went across the road to a sidewalk vendor who had quite a wide variety of food available right there. I had the chick peas and chicken. It eat good!

So, overall, I was impressed with the Georgetown nightlife. Never dreamt it would have been so good, both in terms of places to go and the quality of the places.

Next morning, bright and early, I was at the airport on my way out. But why unnu airport suh far, iyah?! Yes, I know it’s the old US air force runway but lawks man! Customer service at the airport was excellent! But they could improve the air-conditioning in the departure lounge.

I know a few Guyanese in NYC who would not believe I had such a good time. If yuh listen to dem, yuh would never visit the place. It is not this one road town by the sea coast as I have often heard. Yes, it is not as built up as Kingston, the physical infrastructure is still a bit lacking – sidewalks, etc. – but the warmth of the people made up for it. The best part, despite the water-filled gullies and canals I did not see many mosquitoes. I honestly believe Jamaica has more mosquitoes than other place on earth!