Stepping off the plane, I was oblivious to what I would next witness. Tired after a long flight to Jamaica, my family and I waited for our transportation to get from the airport to our resort. Loading onto a bus, full of tourists ready to unload and relax for the week we began our journey to the resort. Complaints filled the air when we were informed it was a two-hour bus ride. Exhausted and without cell service, I put my airpods in and looked out the window. 

I was a little thrown off when I first noticed they drive on the opposite side of the road and their steering wheels are on the right instead of the left. They also have very few traffic laws with cars cutting each other off and many horns beeping at each other as they drive down the road.  It was a beautiful drive though; the landscape was like no other with the ocean to the left of the street and mountains to the right. It was gorgeous. The mountains were lush and green and the ocean was crystal blue. 

But as we continued, what caught my eye first about the homes people were living in were the bright colors that the siding. The vibrant oranges, blues, greens, and yellows. What I next noticed was how most of the houses we were passing were run down with no roof. The only thing blocking the windows were sheets. Coming from Ashburnham and Westminster, I had never seen a place like this before. Even though I had traveled many times before, I had never experienced anything like this before.

The longer the ride was the more the guilt set in on how privileged I really was. Little kids were running around the streets and here I was, a person who growing up always had a roof over my head. Was heading to the all-inclusive resort for a week while the locals were forced to live impoverished. Trying to remember though that for this country most jobs and a lot of wealth come into the country through tourism and all the resorts that sit on the ocean fronts. 

Eventually, getting to the resort, was amazing. The ocean sat in front of the mountains with little cities tucked away in the greenery. We were greeted with flowers, glasses of pineapple, and ginger juice, by people who couldn’t wait to take our bags for us as soon as we stepped off the bus. The second thing I noticed was the difference in personalities between Americans and the Jamaican people I had encountered. The people I met were far more appreciative of the tips they were given. Working for minimal wages, hoping for some sort of a tip, and working to make sure they check in on you multiple times throughout your meal. Whereas, in America they come to the table once or twice, making a good living and expecting a 20% tip off every check. The difference in expectations was astronomical. 

Overall, my trip to Jamaica was one of the best eye-opening experiences ever.