07 May 2006 20:41
Long ago (listen to me, ha it was all of a year and a half) I noticed a church perched way up on a ridgeline in the Blue Mountains above Kingston. I drove past it (below it is more accurate) a time or two, took a couple pictures, and told myself I’d like to visit it sometime.When Stephanie visited last May we did just that...poked around, took a bunch of pictures, admired the flowers architecture and the view, then continued on our merry way (this involved a cave in, a dump truck, a happy rasta, several 2x6's, and a $300J "toll". But that's another story).
• 
• 
Mom and I also did some drive by shooting in September (it really is quite prettily situated) but didn't stop.
Then lo and behold if Ben didn't move to Irish Town and start attending that church. This opportunity was too good to pass up. So a couple Saturdays ago after work I went up to spend the night at his place. He rents a house with Derrick, a long-time friend of the Goods, right along the main road in Irish Town.
• 
most of Irish Town in most of its glory (I didn't say it was big now did I?). Ben's house is the big red-roofed monstrosity one third from the right edge (I didn't say it was small now did I?)
There was actually a whole crew up there that weekend. Nebyou and Sara were in town from Mandeville and MoBay respectively, and Diana and myself had come up from town. we sat for hours on the patio watching the stars and partaking of the Jamaican National Pastime. Derrick was there, as well as a local couple from Ben and Derricks' Bible study.
(The Jamaican National Pastime is "arguing over the cause of the nation's problems and how to fix them". If you don't have your own distinct opinion then you're not truly Jamaican. Keep in mind that you're never to actually do or accomplish or change anything). [4]
Sunday morning found us walking to the aforementioned church; St Marks Anglican Chapel (though I'm sure it's full name is probably fancier. Couldn't find hide nor hair of it on the main website for The Anglican Church in Jamaica and the Cayman Islands). It was a little stretch, with some pretty scenery along the way.
• 
• 
For instance there's the basketball court in the middle of the main road between Gordon Town and Buff Bay. There's also a classic example of how much of a headache it must be to upkeep these mountain roads built on unstable hillsides. A point of note though, I didn't take these pictures on this particular Sunday. These pictures of the road caved out are from Mom's camera in September of last year. (The cave out is still there, but now it has piles of construction material around it to make you think work's being done)
The service was interesting. The singing was uh, standard for Jamaica. The liturgy seemed to hold more meaning for those of us who were reading along for the first time or first time in a while than it did for those who plow through it every Sunday. And the sermon was interesting (albeit somewhat repetitious--my standard complaint regarding 98% of sermons I hear down here). It was even controversial, due in largely to some artistic license on the part of the priest. More on that later.
Ben plays the piano for them so we had some time after to lounge before we walked the half mile back down to his house. More gratuitous pictures.
• 
• 
One of the young men in the congregation looked me up, Maurice, he's interested in aviation. I've met a number of such people here on the island recently. On the way home from St Marks we passed the home of an AirJ pilot...very posh. If somebody sees and wants that then they've got a long hard road to follow. The same is true in the states, but if making captain for AirJ is the top of the ladder then making captain for American or JetBlue is more the top of a really steep staircase than a ladder.
Personally, I’m perfectly content to be content with the small stuff rather than constantly yearning after a bigger plane with the correspondingly bigger paycheck. "The higher you are, the harder you fall." That saying was never cheery in the first place, but I can see it gets downright morbid when used in connection with airplanes).
(Though I must confess...having a plane that's big enough to have an autopilot is ver nice).
We then opted to blow our respective food budgets on coffee at a local highbrow coffee shop (that caters to upper class Kingstonians and foreign visitors to nearby resort Strawberry Hill than it does to local residents). Jamaican blue mountain coffee is supposedly among the best in the world, but I don't meet many people who are sold. Seems to me that the best coffee in the world would also come with an unbelievably low price tag...after all, that would make it the best.
I'd include pictures of the coffee shop deck with us hanging out on it, but I think those are on Diana's camera since I can't seem to find them in my collection. So instead I'll include four more of the church grounds...which is sprinkled quite liberally with graves.
• 
• 
• 
Graves tucked against the hillside, graves nestled in little pockets of meadow, and graves admiring the view (that's Newcastle on the ridge just left of center).
20:41 email me permalink / commentary (0)
