
Hmmm... stories from Jamaica. Here's a good one:
We went with Naomi, our awesome cook, to a farmer's market where tourists never go. We looked a bit out of place, but everyone seemed quite friendly so we ran around and checked everything out. We were picking out produce at one of the stands, when a wild-eyed lady came over and started screaming at the woman we were buying from. She was speaking Patois, a Jamaican dialect that seems to be half-English, half jibberish. We could make out a few words here and there, such as "Gary," "blood clot," "tree," and "death," but the rest made no sense to us at all, except that it was pretty clear she was speaking the universal language of scorned woman : ) She went on and on for a good 20 minutes, the longest I've ever heard a person yell without actually throwing a punch. When we finally made it out of there, Naomi explained that the woman was involved in some sort of love triangle with the produce lady and a guy named Gary, who inexplicably fell to his death from a tree when he was plagued with a bloot clot in his leg. Crazy lady of course assumes that produce lady used voodoo to knock the guy off, and the fight ensued. Makes perfect sense..... Here's a pic from a booth at the market.

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