Living in two worlds

Yesterday I experienced such a diverse set of circumstances. I lay in bed at night trying to figure out which one was real and which one I preferred.
We had an exam in the morning and for some reason had agreed to start it at 7 am so we could get out of class early. We stumbled out of our rooms at 6:58 and into the dark classroom. We’ve nicknamed this one hallway ‘mosquito alley’ because of the clouds of blood suckers that await around each door. We sat in the flickering light, hoping the electricity wouldn’t go out, swatting mosquitoes and trying to pay attention to our exam. After the exam and a long exhausting class, we went back to our rooms. It was hot out and because of all the recent rain, butterflies had hatched and they were swarming all through the gardens. One of my classmates and I decided to go for a run and we jogged along the potholed road for a couple of miles, dodging goats and spiny cacti and the occasional pothole that was bigger than a car.
When we got back I lay on the floor of my room trying to cool down, and wishing that the air conditioner would work.
Our professor, Dr. Gilbert, is the only person on campus who has a car, and we’d arranged to catch a ride to the beach with him instead of having to walk the 8 kilometers in the heat. Brendan and I had studied furiously all week so that we could go on Friday afternoon.
The closest beach to the university is a public beach, but it is surrounded by an exclusive resort called ‘St. James club.’ In all my life, even in pictures, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a place quite so exotically beautiful. Dr. Rust had given us some towel cards that allowed us privilege to trade in for free towels and sit on the beach chairs under thatched umbrellas. The sand is white and the water greeny-blue and the palm trees sway overhead in the breeze. There are hot pink hibiscus and bougainvillea everywhere and you can smell the scent of the flowers mingled with the salt of the ocean.
We lay in the sun with our histology textbooks and took breaks to jump in the waves or pick up pink shells along the beach. Later in the afternoon, the club served a free tea, and Brendan and I sat on a balcony overlooking the whole bay and ate little sandwiches and scones and drank tea. It was ridiculously luxuriant. We hadn’t had anything that tasted that good in about a month. We watched the sun go down across the water, the sky streaked with pink and purple, and when it was too dark to see our textbooks anymore we packed up to go. (I know it sounds impossible, but we did actually get lots of quality studying done.)
When we drove out of the club we entered a different world again. We were hungry and stopped to eat at a little restaurant run by some local people. It is an open-walled shack and in the light of propane lanterns we could barely make out the chicken sizzling over coals. The people were friendly and warm and we talked to some other customers and they poured us their homemade rum punch. (Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson and I got the girl version.) On the two walls that were still standing there were faded photographs of years past and advertisements for cheap taxis. Every now and again a bat would fly in and then out again, and although I couldn’t see them I’m positive that there were cockroaches scuttling underfoot. The food was amazingly good and we sat in the cracked plastic chairs, swatting mosquitoes and talking to the owners and laughing together.
We drove home and studied until far too early in the morning, and then woke up this morning to find another torrential downpour soaking all my laundry on the line. When I ran out to get it I got soaked just opening the door.
It is two different worlds. It is hard to reconcile the two together. One of the most unfortunate parts of it is the sharp delineation between the lives of the black people who live here, and the lives of the white people who live here. This is one of my first experiences with racism, and I find it uncomfortable to deal with. Sure, there are wealthy black people here. But for the majority of the island’s residents, they live in poverty while the rich white tourists enjoy the fruits of the land. I hate the fact that I am different, not because I’m wealthy (I’m not!), not because I’m Canadian, not because I’m a Christian, but simply because I’m white.
But I feel blessed that I have been able to experience both worlds here. Lying on the beach and watching the sun go down was heaven on earth. But sitting in a dingy hole-in-the-wall and laughing about the market’s best fish prices with a happy couple was also wonderful. And staying up late studying with my roommate and taking breaks to talk and laugh is also pretty special. Running in the hot sun, dodging potholes and goat crap and that feeling at the end of finally being able to stop, well, that’s pretty good too.
I’m looking forward to coming home in a few days and seeing everyone I missed and eating donuts and pizza and sleeping in a comfy bed and feeling cold for a change, but I think I’m really going to miss this place.