I had at some point made mention to Sunshine that there was a place on the West End quite famous for their brownies. You could say they were extra special brownies.

As we were leaving BCC, I asked if I should call a cab. No, no was the reply, it's cheaper out on the road. We were out the door and on our own before I had processed the statement. The door was closed and locked before I even turned around. There was not a soul in sight.

No matter I have my map and the road seems relatively wide here. I take a deep breath and tell myself that this will be fine. We will just grab a cab when one goes by. I know the rules. Red plates only and negotiate up front.

Now for those of you who know the area, there is a certain folly to taking a cab from BCC to Jenny's Cakes. They cannot be in reality more than 250m apart. We are newbies though; we just don't know what we don't know.

We start walking down the road. It doesn't take long for us to hear a taxi approaching, sounding its horn to let us know it was available. We both throw up our arms and he comes to halt and jumps out. Red plate, yes, so time to negotiate. Another passenger is already on board, must be a route taxi.

"How much to Jenny's cakes?" I ask.

"Wah woh wah woh."

sh*t, Sh*t, SH*T! This is not getting easier. "Pardon me?" is my more polite reply.

"Wah WOH WAH woh."

The cabbie is obviously a bit annoyed now and I don't blame him, we are in the middle of the road and clearly we are idiots. You can see on his face he was kind of wishing he hadn't stopped, but he wasn't quite ready to abandon us yet.

Done guessing, I make him an offer.

"Two dollars?"

"Yes, yes, get in."

I will say that after their third try, most Jamaicans seemed find a slow gear in their speech that we could actually understand.

We get in, he puts the car in gear and starts creeping forward, "You know Jenny's is closed?"

Well clearly I did not know that or I wouldn't be asking you to take me there, I think to myself. Frustrated with myself more than him I ask him rather bluntly where else we can get Jenny's special kind of cakes.

The driver and other passenger exchange a few words and he announces he knows a place. He hits the accelerator we zoom forward and then come to a screeching halt.

The driver hollers something to a women inside the smallest bar I have yet to see. She must have answered in the affirmative, as the driver tells us she has what we need. We pass him our $2, we get out and he is gone. From when he first stopped to when he dropped us off, it has to have been less than three minutes and we have basically only gone around the bend in the road.

Well, first route taxi out of the way. It wasn't a long ride, but it got us there.

We walk into this bar and our greeted by a smiling face. "Welcome to C&Ds, I am Connie or Dawn, or Connie Dawn." Blessed be, I can actually understand this women. Maybe what the cabbie actually said to her was talk real slow, these people are lost fools.

We introduce ourselves. Connie declares she has an auntie with the same name as me. It must be a common Jamaican auntie name, as she was one of three people to say that to me that week. That almost never happens at home.

We have a nice chat with Connie; she explains the family connection to Jenny's and tells us we can always find her great recipes here too. We thank her for the brownies and get a piece of lemon cake to sample as well. It just looked too good to leave behind; it tasted even better.

We walk out and there is another cab there almost right away, this time empty, so we charter it back to Rooms.

I tried conversation again, because I just couldn't help myself. Another round of "Wah woh wah wah," and I conclude that silence is good.