It’s a short boat ride from Grand Cayman to Jamaica, but it involves a time change. We set our clocks back an hour before going to bed. It’s always nice to get an extra hour, but time is a relative thing.
We arrived in Falmouth as the sun was rising on what would be a hot sunny day. And lo and behold, there were mountains and jungles rising from the sea. This place wasn’t going to wash away.
I had been to Jamaica several times before, but never by cruise ship, and never to Falmouth.
Falmouth sits at the edge of a splendid deep water harbor on the north side of Jamaica. It isn’t on most travel itineraries because its beaches are nothing to write home about and its neighbors Montego Bay and Ocho Rios are the happening Rasta party places to visit, with resorts and all the cool beach amenities.
But that was not always the case. Falmouth was one of the busiest ports in the world during the 18th and 19th centuries. Europeans, mostly Englishmen, made vast sums of money growing sugar cane and turning it into rum, on the backs of an army of slaves. Some of the richest men on the planet called Falmouth home and it had a public water system before New York City. Its Georgian-style mansions were known far and wide. And many of these Great Houses are still standing in all of their former glory.
In addition to the obvious fact that no person should own another, the dynamics of slavery makes it an impossible system to maintain. As with American slavery, there were many more slaves than masters, making it a very dangerous business indeed. It is a little known fact that there were slave revolts taking place constantly all over the American South, starting back in Colonial times. And it was the same in Jamaica where there were eighteen major uprisings between 1655 and 1823. By the 1820’s, almost 3,000 slaves were escaping each year.
In 1831, the whole powder keg exploded. It started with a general strike led by a man named Samuel Sharpe, but it soon spun out of control and culminated with the torching of over 200 plantations and the cane-filled warehouses of Falmouth.
The British army spent a month restoring order and rounding up the slave leaders, including Sharpe, who were publicly hanged as a lesson to others. But the real lesson was being learned back in England, where the public was sickened by the savage stories coming out of Jamaica and the rest of the West Indies.
Slavery was outlawed in 1840, the slaves freed, and the bottom soon dropped out the Jamaican sugar cane empire. And with it went Falmouth.
Until 2007, when Royal Caribbean announced that it was going to build a new terminal for its ships at Falmouth.
Doreen Hemlock, a business reporter who visited Falmouth during its initial stage, offered the following analysis of the proposal.
“Royal Caribbean worked with an Orlando design company, to reflect the character of the town in its new port area. Buildings were designed as a modern extension of the town, on the same grid, in a similar Georgian architectural style. The cruise line also is working with the town to support its efforts at historic preservation.”
For what happened next, we need only look at how gambling has played out on American Indian reservations. The traditionalists warn that it will spell the end of their culture and the natives will be swallowed by creeping capitalism. The moneyed interests dangle the promise of countless wealth to a downtrodden people. Ultimately, the Jamaican government approved the project, the RC terminal opened in 2011 to much hoopla, and the verdict is still out on whether the gambit has paid off.
The new terminal at Falmouth is story book pretty. The old warehouses have been completely restored, crowned with lovely red roofs.
As I stared down from my walking track perch on Deck 11 at the bustling scene below, the vendors setting up shop wearing brightly-colored puffy shirts and calico dresses, it looked almost like a movie set. Behind the terminal sat the town, its historic houses and churches shining brightly in the morning sun.
But as with all fairy tales, there was a dark side where the shanty town market clung to the eastern edge of Falmouth like an ugly wound. More on this a bit later.
After breakfast we loaded our day packs and navigated the ever changing departure maze on the ship. It seemed like every day the departure gangway was located in a slightly different location. And some decks have bulkheads that block your path. On the Navigator, we needed to go down to Deck 5, walk across the Royal Promenade, take an elevator to Deck 2, and then look for the exit. As we grabbed some fruit at the snack bar the Captain was delivering his daily message over the ship intercom. He told us that we had from 8-5 to see the sights, to enjoy our brief stay on the island of Jamaica, and to steer clear of anyone trying to sell us weed.
We were hoping to take a historic walking tour in the afternoon, checking out what was supposedly the largest collection of Georgian architecture in the Caribbean. My research had highlighted the Town Hall and Court House, Barrett Wharf House, Tharp House, the Pottery House, Vermont House, St Peter’s Anglican Church and the William Knibb Baptist Church. Everything seemed to be within easy walking distance of the dock.
The inside of the warehouse terminal was all red brick and fresh paint with the usual shopping venues selling shiny objects. Workers were putting the finishing touches on a Margaritaville, which apparently is the Caribbean equivalent of McDonalds. Jimmy Buffett certainly has come a long way from his peanut butter-stealing days down at the Mini-Mart.
Speaking of McDonalds, it turns out they aren’t very popular with the locals who don’t go in much for burgers. They prefer chicken and the Colonel’s KFC’s are everywhere and quite popular.
Once again, we had a plan. Find the Taxi Station at the end of the sprawling terminal and catch a taxi or bus to Doctor’s Cave Beach beach, about 20 miles to the west, and spend a few hours swimming and snorkeling. Dave’s Cave is listed in all the tour guides as a must see. Then we would hop a ride or walk back to the Hip Strip at Montego Bay for some Reggae gear shopping before heading back to Falmouth for a history lesson.
As usual, our plans went awry when we started talking to the local guides. In this case, a very nice young man pulled up in a large electric golf cart and took us to the end of the terminal and explained that he could get us great tour of the north side of the island.
The guides are all licensed by the Jamaican Tourist Bureau, so you really can’t get ripped off. But choosing a tour from a stranger is always a crap shoot. Some work out great and others leave you less than satisfied. In this case, we ended up paying $35 per person for an all day van tour with BARBARA who drove for Maxi Tours.
Barbara was a sassy Jamaican who was both funny and no-nonsense at the same time. She spoke with a sweet Jamaican patois that sounded almost musical. And she knew the north side of the island like the back of her hand. She lives in Montego Bay and takes a public bus to Falmouth, leads the daily tour, and then catches the bus home.
If you want a tour that you will long remember, shoot her an e-mail at:
barbara.panthan@yahoo.com
You will be glad you did.
We headed west along the coast toward Montego Bay and Barbara pointed out interesting sites along the way.
“See that school over there? Dat’s where the track star Usain Bolt went to grade school.”
We inquired about the cost of land.
“You can buy a plot of undeveloped ground for around $3,000 US or $300,000 Jamaican. And there definitely is undeveloped land for sale.”
“The Spanish are building lots of hotels,” she remarked as we passed a posh Mediterranean villa complex along a stretch of rocky coastline.
Inna inquired if there was a national dish.
Barbara said that indeed there was. “A native fruit called Akee and cod.”
Barbara gave us a little lesson in politics at my request.
Jamaica has been a sovereign nation since 1962 and celebrates its Independence Day on August 6. There are 14 parishes with 4 council members from Jamaica Labor Party and People’s National Party representing each parish. Jamaica currently has a lady Prime Minister from the PNP which tends to be more pro-people – hence the name.
The one thing you notice right away is that every house, not matter the size or cost, is constructed solidly out of rebar and concrete to withstand hurricane winds and rain. And almost every house is fenced in. We were left to solve that riddle on our own.
There were large cleanup crews picking up trash along the dual highway that was built for the World Cricket Cup in 2007. It seemed to be a major source of employment.
Gas is expensive in Jamaica. And the price is pegged to the American economy, which is a double-edge sword. As the U.S. economy weakens, gas prices drop, but then, so do the tourist dollars.
