A precipitous outbound flight and a drama on arrival: Fortunately, locals in Jamaica took care of Karin Lochner. Even today, 35 years later, she proudly wears her T-shirt from the time with the imprint "Jamaica - closest place to heaven".
When everything was covered with a kind of nostalgic veil in the Culture Yard in Trench Town, and the rust, the peeling plaster and the weathered bright colors of the outer walls were surrounded by an almost romantic touch of transitoriness, then this is the opposite.
The corrugated iron huts, the car wrecks, the bullet holes on some walls:
No transfigured remnant of the past. This is real.
"And? How long have you been in Jamaica? "I ask Azushi, the Japanese Rastafarian with the dreadlock bird's nest on his head.
"Hm, long," he says.
"Long?" I ask.
"Long," he replies, nodding.
"Not so long," I answer.
I have to go to Trench Town. I must.
There is no way around paying a visit to Kingston's most notorious and fascinating district.
Too often have I heard Bob Marley singing about it in his songs.
Too often I wondered where these songs came from.
"I do not know, man, you're just too white," says Rob, one of the collaborators of Bob Marley's old record company Tuff Gong.
"I'll stay and be a tourist but I can not take the gun play"
- The Clash, in "Safe European Home" about Kingston