Last weekend I finally got the vacation I’ve been hankering for all summer: a four-day stay in Kingston with a girlfriend. Okay, so it’s not quite a week at the Hilton but in lots of ways it was a whole lot better. I’ve always been in love with Kingston, from ever since I can remember. There’s theatre, literature, great schools, and boundless opportunities. Kingston was to me (with my country-bumpkin self, ha) what Disney World was to Kingston children, but it was more than just a fun destination, I always felt like I belonged there. And then I grew up.
And now Kingston is more than a collection of really awesome places and really fun stuff, because now I finally have a tangible connection to the city: friends, school, love. It’s all there.
I go up on the Knutsford Bus (up? Why up? We always say up but Kingston is in the south. :|), because downtown Kingston is a scary, scary place and this Alice has no business going down that rabbit hole. I get picked up at about 10pm by J who promptly suggests that we go salsa dancing at the Hilton. I’m exhausted after the 4+ hours trip (I hate travelling) and it’s late and I’m hungry, so I do what anyone with half a brain would do. I go salsa dancing, which actually turns out to be fun (minus the creepy old guy who keeps trying to dance with- aka grind on – us, despite the presence of J’s boyfriend). We don’t get to bed until after 3am, me and J, J’s boyfriend and his roommate stay up talking until my eyes won’t stay open any more and J’s cat comes in for the night.
The very next day, I go to a gymnastics class with my boyfriend and his cousin, where my body delights in reminding me that I am not as young as I used to be, but I can still execute a back walkover with considerable aplomb. I’m probably the oldest person in the class, and all these young ‘uns are running around tumbling and rope climbing and kicking ass on the bars while I’m struggling to do donkey jumps on the trampoline (which are harder than they look, tru fax). My arms still hurt from my ill-fated attempt on the bars. I go back to J’s house, tired and in pain, but happy.
The last day I spend with my boyfriend, and we go to see his cousin’s dance concert at 7, which was at the very least incredibly entertaining. I loved the performances, they were all well done (Campion College, big up yuh self), but it made me sad that we never see a theatrical production on this scale in Montego Bay. It’s not like the talent isn’t there, it’s more like the dedication and support that are lacking. Almost as if MoBay hasn’t grown up enough to recognize that performing arts are cool, or we’re trapped in the awkward adolescent stage of social development. /rant
My trip back home is on the Knutsford again because by now I’m just spoilt for it. And I get all of two hours’ reprieve before I’ve got a performance at Sunset Beach. But that’s another story entirely.