Caribbean Trip Journal Entry 3

Not unlike another conquered island we all know, let’s say Canada, the British word fuckery and influence is omnipresent.

Since colonized gibberish is all I know, I present my newest mentor Edison Hedley as the East coast Minister of culture.

The first sight was memorable; a shirtless, shoeless man with a mohawk hobbling down from the rum shop shouting “ur a surfer, ima surfer, canya gi mi a ride? Mi knee’s bungled up.” Next he introduced himself as Snake. In my research, I had come across some photos and lore of Snake, and was impressed. Impressed more so when he shared how to surf his local spot, introduced all the right people, fetched breadfruit off the trees, shared domino’s strategies and basically travelled around with us for the next 3 days. Every rumhead in every corner of the island would greet Snake with open arms and a nip of rum, before breaking out their own Snake glory stories. In short, one random pickup led to unearthing one of the islands legends and a treasure chest of local knowledge.


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