Our last day and we went to Lime Cay, an island (or cay) off Port Royal. Our driver, Taylor, drove us out there and en route let slip that he had another job “working for the government, with the law” as he coyly put it. Clearly, being a policeman is not something you shout about here.
The cay is a gorgeous little spot where Kingstonites come to relax at the weekend. A sandy beach, turquoise sea, trees for shade, bar for beer: perfect.
Jamaica, and Kingston in particular, has a fearsome reputation for violence and it was not until our last day we saw anything problematic; being on a miniscule island while bottles are smashed and rocks are thrown is not very relaxing, especially when your boat driver is in the middle of it. When Taylor informed the saucer-eyed protagonist of his other job, he was steadfastly unimpressed. I wasn’t.
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