Jamaica With Bobo, Baby Belly And Backpack

I was 20 years old in the midst of a concrete jungle education, in the heart of Manhattan. My roommate Nancy and I were in love with music, the Bible, jammin’ in Central Park, reggae, and Bob Marley.

Longing for nature and travel brought me to a fork in the road. When my friend Bettina, queen of the best rates in town, found cheep round trip tickets to Jamaica for $200, I could not resist. My thoughts were on the humble hills of Bobo Shanti, a camp found in the mountains of Bull Bay, Jamaica.

I discovered shortly after planning the trip, I was pregnant. I suppose I ruined any plans for a Margarita sipping, Negril beach strolling, cosmopolitan trip to the Caribbean, yet I now had a much larger reason to discover something new and powerful.

The plane was discounted only if I left from Boston. The ‘free’ train ride to Boston had been tested by my friend Bettina. Old tickets of the right color, could get you a ride from New York City to Boston on a hot-looking Amtrak train with great customer service. The catch was hiding in the bathroom.

My flight left without a hitch. It would be the furthest I’ve ever flown from home, and the greatest feat I’ve ever risked alone had set sail! I’m sure partially this was the hormonal ride of my life. At the time, I was going to follow my heart at all costs.

I had felt too aware of life to remove the unborn child from my insides, but it had been put out of my mind for the time being. Secretly I was going to search for a magical man to take home with me. Or the alternative: find a new life after I crossed this ocean.