The way it is.........
It has been a long winter. You sit at your desk looking out onto a bleak landscape of cold and snow. There has been no sun for 5 days in your world. You yearn to get away. You deserve it, a vacation, a blissful place in a warm climate where all your cares will melt away. On your hour long paid lunch hour break you click through holiday websites. You surf for a while checking out one beautiful resort after another: Jamaica, Mexico, Cuba, the Dominican Republic....you see yourself there easily. You choose the place, an amazing deal, all inclusive. Excitement builds as you enter your visa card number paying for your vacation in full. You leave in 4 days. Flight, hotel, all meals, unlimited beverages, pickup from the airport, comfort, soft bed, clean beyond belief, secure, a compound of luxury, no worries, guaranteed sun.
You have four days to get ready for the big adventure, you buy new clothes and shoes, you buy travel medical insurance, you anticipate great things. You organize your things in your new luggage. You know you are taking too much, but you don’t have to carry your bag so why not take all that you will need and more? Some one else will take care of it.
The day of your departure is again a bleak day. The flight is full of people just like you, heading to their dream vacation in the sun. Pale faced Canadians desperate for a chance to let go and relax. You pass through customs with ease. All you need is your valid passport, the agent doesn’t even ask you a single question, just smiles and gives your passport a stamp and welcomes you to the island. As promised a friendly local who speaks English is there to pick you up with a big sign with your name on it. You get into a new air-conditioned bus with other tourists and head to the resort. On the way you pass by a small town, the houses small, the children playing on the side of the road, they seem happy. These are dirt roads, and there’s a lot of garbage on the side of the road. You wonder why the people here don’t take care of where they live? You catch glimpses of small yards, old doors, a window open, smoke coming from the stovepipes in the roofs of the small houses, a bedraggled dog sleeping in the sun. You give no thought to what life is like for the families living there, what their struggles and their joys are. Soon enough you arrive at the large entrance of the resort with two armed guards at the gatehouse. The van driver pulls into a beautiful tropical paradise, a paved road leads you to the lobby of the resort. You check in with ease and spend some time exploring the grounds which are immaculately kept. You take in with contented eyes the pools, the bars, the ocean, and the beach. You see other people who look just like you. You head to your room and enjoy the bottle of chilled champagne that was left for you. This will be your world for the next seven days. You don’t give much thought to the people who have made all of this possible for you, they all seem really friendly and welcoming. It’s great that they can have jobs at this resort. You feel good about the fact that they can work here. You give no thought to the fact that the chambermaid has never in her life travelled on an airplane and never will and that for her “vacation” is a word that has no meaning.
You swim in the pool with its swim up bar, enjoying the fruits of your labours. You gaze out over the ocean not realizing that the raw sewage from the hotel is pumped directly into the ocean in the next cove. There are no regulations that would address this issue in this country. You eat at a buffet table laden with food three times a day, eating your fill over and over, not worrying about where this food came from, not knowing that all of it was shipped here from the United States and none of it is local produce supporting the local economy. You give no thought to the fact that all the food that doesn’t get eaten gets thrown away. The people who work here cannot eat it or take it home for their families. That is against the hotel’s policy. You drink your fill of pina colada, cuba libre, banana mama’s...all are specially created for you by the handsome bartender who asks you about your day. You chat to him about all the amazing things you have encountered. You give no thought to the fact that he is bored of hearing about the adventures of the gringos. You don’t worry about what it’s like to work in the sugar cane fields where the rum begins it’s life. You come back to your room each day after a day at the beach and see it is spotlessly clean. You are grateful but don’t give much thought to the woman who carefully made your bed, who folded your towels into swans, who scrubbed your toilet. It is so nice to be so well taken care of. You sleep well in this island paradise. You savour each day. You wear an arm bracelet that you need to keep in full view when you are at the resort. You are marked and safe, you belong here. You take an offered excursion mid week to the local market in town. It’s a hot and dirty place but they offer a lot of nice weavings and hand made crafts. The venders call to you as you walk through the rows and rows of stalls. Each stall looks the same. You stop and make a great deal with a woman selling blankets. You bargain her down, walking away when the price isn’t low enough, she follows you through the market conceding on the price you will pay. She says gracias gringa. You give no thought to the conditions that exist so that a blanket can be made and sold for such a small price. You give no thought to what the woman goes home to after her 14 hours at the market. You don’t wonder if her children are hungry or if they can afford to go to school. You don’t really understand what the term gringa means to the woman. You adore the blanket you just bought and the deal you received. You walk away with a smile and a wave not understanding what she is saying to you.
Time passes quickly at the resort; there are plenty of activities to keep you busy. Snorkelling, sailing, games on the beach, drinking contests, massages, live shows each night all led by smiling enthusiastic staff of the resort. You fail to really notice the tattered shorts of the snorkelling guide, the worn down shoes of the woman who organizes the spa, the broken smile of the man who gathers the gringos for a drinking game at the beach.
The week comes to a close. You spend your last few hours soaking up the sun and having your final drinks by the pool. You go to around to each of the staff and give them each a $1 tip. You feel good that you can help them in this way. As you leave the van takes the dirt road back to the airport, you notice what seems like the same children playing in the dirt, the same old men sitting at the corner. You wave to a group of people as the van stops for a moment, they return your wave with a stare. You feel something, something cold in that moment. You look away. The airport departure and arrival in your homeland are as smooth as they were when you left. Welcome Home says the Canada Customs Agent. Your bags arrive safely brought there by many working hands who you give no thought to. You arrive at your home after a taxi ride with a driver who has the same accent as the people on the island you’ve just come from. You ask him if he is from there and yes he is. Have you been home much? No he says he has not. You arrive at your door and walk into your home. You are home, this is the way it is....
What did you choose not to see? What did you see and choose to ignore?
written after viewing a film on the tourism industry in jamacia.
