The Polish

Yvonne and Ruth, how much more legendary could they get? Seeming to know all the sketchy locals in Jamaica, from the attachment to Richard at the hostel a moment after arrival, the texts from the Tamboo connection on the drive in from Lucea, the random guy outside Margaritaville to Garfield’s sweet ride and the fabulous Conch soup... So excellent to see the art of coarse travel is alive and well in Jamaica, mon. Yes mon. The jerk chicken, the jerk pork, the snapper sunset tacos. Even the dog-eaten goat curry, the lack of a proper sunset (and failure to spot the Yarmouth girls) not enough to disappoint.

How superior this day to the other option of the staid tour with the Brazilian couple – who at least like visiting the ganga fields everyday... Into Mo-Bay city proper and a sandwich while the first minutes of the Arsenal match played through poor reception, to (as was found out later) another defeat. Are they saving their miracle for Bayern? Does the Wembley failure bring the India option back into the mix?

"Inspirate" – I want to know why it is what it is. Who are these girls, and how are they so confident and comfortable in such chaos. And is it an admirable quality or no? That last is a question. As Antoine would say, for real. I think I’m with them. Their supreme assurance in face of strangers is not to be questioned.

“Ya gotta have the polish.  Black and Brown." So much else forgotten as always. I wish I could have seen him again, at the Mo-Bay bus stop or otherwise. Ya gotta have the polish!!

And Garfield's ever-presence! After we were slightly worried over the extended absence. His persistance rewarded. Sad a bit, in the way we had to end it, but I can see why he was insistent. Hard to compete with the locals, at times, in such circumstances. I wanted to write so much else. The hammock. The blow and fuck. Ah, difficult to blend in with the local girls because the imbalance is ridiculous.

Wondering about shades all the same, too, and how perhaps to end it. The magnificently cleansing rain. The security knocking. Hurry mon. Yeah mon. But enough to cause laughter and distraction. The security guy’s car won’t start. “I guess I’ll just get a guy on the street..” Yeah mon.  Good luck mon.

“You want the air condition?” Yeah mon.

It is the beauty of the country, that Ruth of Eritrea loves so much, the directness. They tell you straight what is on your/their mind, which never happens in Sweden.... what a fucking trip. Such legends.  How could you have done better, in a day in Jamaica, to sample the taste?

Oh Nick. See how I miss you. Oh Atlantic. See how I miss you so much too, with your waves and such. Even as I bathed in you yesterday. It doesn’t get much more absurd.

Trust and laughter and magic and ... how it becomes the soul. The lesson is in the persistence (of G and others), the uncaring effort. In the obvious affection. In the no hesitation to exclaim the desire. The don’t be in a hurry to get to eternity, and the could be dead if you pull ahead. etc. A country that knows of what it speaks, presumably.

How dramatically good was yesterday, compared to the possibility of anything else on offer in Jamaica, even? To have the trip down, the accommodations, the understanding figured out. Fuck if the girls spent a bit more than expected. Oh Garfield. And our man of the texts v. the more trusting of the guys, via phone first. Ha. Two girls who in Europe are not the first to be admired, yet here are magnificent and adored as they should be. Por que no? There must be something in that. In the majesty of the focus and belief and short-term nature of it. The link. The not-caring. The now-ness.

The rain this morning. Fresh and clean and (Y) true. Yeah mon. Can you get me to the airport for one thousand? Yeah mon.

I love the James Bond (ornithologist) connection to the country, discovered happenstance. Goldeneye. I love the thoughts of and for creativity in such places. In that idea of lightning striking. In a table of pints, or lager or rum or whatever. Ms. Stravel, how old we are getting. And yet.

You think of Bolt, and Blake, and how enormous the accomplishment it is, to run the 100 with such speed and beat all these other more pompous and ...

How brilliant and key the 6AM security wake up? To be through Lucea by 7:26 is really what you would have hoped in the best of backpacking scenarios, and certainly no chance if not the security bell. Oh Arsenal on Tuesday. Are you going to tell me to go to Delhi??  Eritrea. Can she really so easily cast out thoughts of what is next?

Yeah mon.  Oh all the rank craziness. I am a passenger. And I ride and I ride. And I left all those spirits behind.

And I....