Never, ever, send anything by UPS

Merrise emailed to say that UPS called Mr Bish-TON to confirm that the shipment from Uncle Eneil had definitely arrived in Montego Bay (via Miami, Kingston, and Miami again). So, that’s just the six weeks to get from New Orleans. Fantastic service. But that’s not the end of the story. After she had tracked down the UPS agents in Mo Bay (not easy - backstreet dive, round the corner, turn left up the concrete stairs, hope someone opens the door type of place) and taken the documents to the Air Jamaica cargo office at the airport, they refused to release it to her because UPS had forgotten to put my name on the address line. At this point, she gave up for the day, and will try tomorrow.
I tried to email UPS customer service to complain about the whole process. This turns out to be impossible because the pre-set email form requires that all fields, including the tracking number, be filled in. I put in the tracking number I had been supplied with, but the form refuses to recognize it, and consequently will not send the email. It is now entirely possible that a shipment I began negotiations to send back in August with the friendly but totally useless Fred in the UPS office in New Orleans will now not arrive before Merrise leaves Jamaica on December 17. UPS – Unbelievably Protracted Service.

The lull before the container storm

We spent yesterday at the docks in Kingston again, this time trying to clear our container for delivery. Again, we got up early (3am) and drove through the early morning to arrive in time for a breakfast at the container depot (calaloo and yam with sweet coffee). Hours passed as the process of bringing the container into the customs shed dragged on. Then our inspector appeared. She was new, someone our man Dave from the Jamaican shipping agents had not encountered before. She was clearly determined to make her mark and ordered that the entire contents be removed and each of the 131 packages opened for her perusal. Lunch, taken promptly at 1pm, interrupted the process and it was not until 3.45 that Merrise emerged from the ordeal with a bill of JA$20,000 (£1= JA$145) to pay for the ineligible items (which included her brother Oliver’s hydraulic slab-making machine). Merrise has asked me to make it quite clear that my role was to stay outside in case sight of my white (and therefore rich) face pushed up the amount of duty we would be asked to pay. It was she who did all the work. By the time the officious new customs officer (who, incidentally specialised in the Kingston ‘look’, a super sized version of the one commonly available in Jamaican circles elsewhere) had satisfied her desire to peer into every corner of our life, our hopes of getting the container delivered that day had gone. So I’m writing this as I wait for it to arrive today. It seems incredible that when we calculated the time it would take for the container to get to us, we took the shipping company’s estimate, added a further three weeks, than added another week, and that was supposed to coincide with our arrival on the island nearly three weeks ago. I was supposed to be returning to the UK tomorrow, but that’s impossible now so I’ve had to re-book for a flight on Saturday.
While I was dozing in the unforgiving heat at the docks as Merrise and Dave supervised the removal of the packages, our phone rang. It was UPS. “Hello Mr Bish-TON” (Jamaicans always accentuate the last part of my surname). “I can confirm that your consignment (from Uncle Eneil) is now in Miami.” Even by the convoluted standards that this shipment has already involved, this seems faintly unreal. “But last week it was in Kingston,” I stammered. “Yes, I know Mr Bish-TON, but I’m assured by Miami that it will be sent to Montego Bay late on Friday.” I’m speechless. I thank her for calling.
As I write, I’m interrupted by the sound of a huge American truck pulling into the drive, and swiping a bit off the gate column. Can this really be the container?

Still waiting on the container

Wednesday we got up (by mistake) at 1.25am – I thought it was 5am – and drove to Kingston. After about an hour, when the sunrise stubbornly refused to appear, I looked at my watch again, and realised my mistake. We arrived in Kingston in good time, needless to say, for our 8.30 appointment with destiny. In terms of distance, the journey is about the same as the one I regularly make from London to Birmingham, but in every other respect it’s like driving on a different planet. There’s a great highway from Mo Bay along the north coast going east, but the moment the road takes to the mountains – Kingston lies on the south coast bounded by some seriously high mountains – things start to change. The incessant rain that fell for the best part of three months during this year’s hurricane season has turned some of the twisting bends on the mountainsides into something more akin to a battle scene. Huge chunks of road, turned upside down by the sheer force of the water. At one point, the tarmac had huge channels gorged into it by the water, so that it looked like a monstrous withered tree root. At these points, progress is slow. In retrospect I was glad it was so early because at least there were no trucks struggling along.
We got lost in Kingston, drove through Denham Town along a road that separates it from Tivoli Gardens – which, in spite of its gentile name, is a war zone. Finally made it to the freight office. The rest of the day for me passed dozing in the car with the engine running and air con on, as Merrise went through the endless procedures designed to establish her entitlements for duty free import. Now they have to find the container so that customs can inspect it. This was supposed to be Friday. But we knew as we drove back on Wednesday that it was unlikely.
Meanwhile UPS continue to fail to deliver the pedal boat sent by Uncle Eneil. The online tracking system says that it has arrived in Mo Bay but it lies: we know it is sitting on some lonely piece of tarmac at Kingston airport. This may finally have made it to Mo Bay last night but as there’s no one picking up the phone at UPS, who knows?
On the plus side, History caught about 7lb of lobster this morning, so we’re going to grill them tonight.