Jodi Stewart heads Down Under with hubby Sean Paul and soon discovers that life is not all ‘suite’…

As I settled into the seat beside my husband Sean Paul, excited to be going to Australia for the first time, I messaged my mum to let her know we would be taking off soon and I’d link her when we landed. Fourteen hours later, band, DJs, crew and dancers in tow, we touched down in Sydney, Australia.

As we settled into the fabulous Hilton hotel suite with its floating tub overlooking the city, I thought, “Tour life is so luxurious.”

Little did I know.

Everyone was super-excited so we freshened up and most of us went on the road to explore. First, it was off to Australia’s most recognisable landmark, the Sydney Opera House, to have a few drinks and plan dinner for the group that evening. Now, as an Observer Food Awards judge I was looking forward to eating my way through Australia to be able to astound you with their culinary delights. However, I was soon to discover that the busy schedule of tour life offered few opportunities for culinary pursuits. While everything was nice, there were only one or two meals that were exceptional. That said, I would defiantly recommend the sushi in Brisbane.

The first show was in Sydney. The energy from the band was undeniable. As the lights dimmed in Luna Park, Coppershot sound hyped up the crowd, Meeka and Nef the dancers came out gyrating in harmony and I thought the crowd was going to explode, the cheering and excitement was electrifying. Then Sean Paul’s voice reverberated through the auditorium, and it was a magical moment. Luna Park almost levitated from the cheering and screaming.

As Sean and the band went through the 90-plus-minute set, I looked out into the audience. Everyone was having a great time. I’d never been prouder — people, well, okay, mostly women, screaming and singing along; some crying, overcome with emotion because they were just so overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Sean gives his all when he is onstage; he not only knows how to connect with his audience but he makes you feel as if you’re at the party of a lifetime. I was emotionally drained when the encores were over; I mean, who wants the party of a lifetime to end?

Now, it’s obvious that Sean loves his fans and doesn’t want the party to end because he always invites fans backstage for a “meet and greet”. He is so gracious; some superstars don’t engage their fans at all, but Sean chats and takes pictures with his. Of course, in typical Jamaican style, yardies find one another and so it was that friends Lisa, Brick and Lace, also on tour in Australia, and their friends came backstage and we chatted until we were literally kicked out of the venue.

The next day we left Sydney on the east coast of Australia to fly across to Perth on the west coast (five hours away). Well, Metro City will never be the same; the show was incredible. Neither Sean Paul, the band, the dancers nor Coppershot missed a beat. The crowd was pumped, the hospitality and love they exuded was amazing. After the meet and greet we finally got to go back to the hotel. As my exhausted head hit the pillow, the phone rang. It was Steve, road manager extraordinaire, reminding us that our flight to Melbourne was in three hours’ time so we needed to meet in the hotel lobby in an hour. Melbourne. Wasn’t that back on the east coast? Yep, we went cross-country again.

We checked into the hotel, but before I could really enjoy the suite overlooking the Melbourne Harbour, Sean went to sound check. Mya, the R&B artiste, was the opening act and tonight, she and Sean would perform a few songs together.

The stylish Trak Venue is one of Melbourne’s most prestigious and iconic venues, and the crowd was singing along with Mya as she warmed them up with her hits. Then it was party time once again when the undeniable sound: “Dutty, yea!” reverberated through the auditorium as Sean hit the stage.

I must tell you, I have a new found respect for him — how the hell does he do this for every show? The professionalism of the band, crew and Sean is amazing; the magnetic energy only increases night to night. Everyone was working on about five hours of sleep, missing family and home — yet it didn’t show. When those lights hit the stage the energy levels just soar. This is what professionals do. Meanwhile, I felt like I was about to die: coffee had long ago failed to bring the much-needed boost.

Then, before I knew it, Steve was calling with his now infamous, annoying and hated one-liner: “One hour!”

I was zombie-like as I repacked. Soon we were off to Adelaide, a three-hour flight away, not quite cross-country but heading back towards Perth! How is this humane? And how come no one else needed sleep?

The truth is, when you are a musician, tour life is HARD WORK. While “first class” is printed on the plane ticket and the hotel suites and penthouses are luxurious, you don’t get time to enjoy it; you grab sleep here and there, eat at strange times, wherever you can and whatever you can get. While having ‘goffers’, membership cards, invites to exclusive parties, travel in private jets and designer clothes may be some people’s dreams, tour life is hard work and these perks EARNED and DESERVED.

I knew my husband worked hard but now that I got to see his life away from home first-hand, I can put things into perspective.

The XL nightclub in Adelaide cheered and railed in appreciation, not just for the music and vibe but also for the effort made by the crew to be there giving their best — once again!

Later, just as I was snuggling down, here came that darn Steve again! I think he has the worst job. Imagine having to wake up an hour before 25 groggy men, then trying to get them up and going every day!

Brisbane! The final city on this tour of Australia.

After a short flight we got to relax and the next day when Steve called, it was a welcomed call. Everyone had got rest and this was a day off, so we were all heading to Steve Irwin’s Australia Zoo, where we each got up close and personal with some of the native Australian animals. There were pudgy wombats whose droppings are cube-shaped, kangaroos, snakes, and — one of the highlights for me — I got to cuddle my favourite bear — a koala — which, although smelling like eucalyptus urine, I would have brought home in a heartbeat.

Australia is about 16 hours ahead of Jamaica, so talking to family and friends had been sporadic and I missed them. Leaving Australia I looked at Sean’s crew, a family in every sense of the word. Although it is amazing to travel the world and see other cultures, many sacrifices are made and I have learnt to appreciate it all.

The Papua New Guinea Leg

I didn’t know much about Papua New Guinea before I went. As a matter of fact, when it appeared on the schedule as PNG I had to Google what and where it was.

Just a few hours from Brisbane, Australia we landed in the capital Port Moresby. I can clearly remember stepping off the plane into the blistering and humid heat and onto a rickety metal staircase. We all kinda smirked to ourselves remembering Norman Manley International Airport years ago. As we entered the customs hall the smell and heat wafted in the air, jealous of the one fan positioned over the immigration officer. As we got our bags and airport staff came to take pictures with Sean, I could see that the people all had a very distinctive look. There is no denying when you see someone from PNG.

Sean Paul was voted by the people as one of the acts most people wanted to see. So you can imagine the frenzy when the locals saw him.

Airways Hotel was literally just outside the airport and thank god they had A/C. PNG is near the equator and this type of heat is almost unbearable.

That evening we all went to the hotel restaurant overlooking the city. There was a buffet with westernised local offerings. As I looked around and spoke with a few of the locals I noticed how stained their lips were. “They must love Kool-Aid,” I thought.

We all kept asking to do “local” stuff, to eat where the locals ate. But the hotel staff ignored us and our large local security details just nodded patronisingly.

The next day we were determined to see more than just the hotel. It was time for sound check and the entire crew went; we were all curious to see what was outside the heavily guarded hotel walls.

At sound check we asked questions about the culture and I asked, “Why does everyone love Kool-Aid so much?”

Well, it turns out that there is a nut that looks similar to the pod on a palm tree, which is called betelnut and the locals chew it up, mix it with lime salt (made from sea coral) and mustard. The combination of the three gives the chewer a buzz and also makes your saliva blood-red and it stains the mouth.

That would also explain all the red paint I’d been seeing on the streets.

After sound check we stopped along a fence outside the hotel that was lined with beautiful artwork. Hand-painted on canvas were the faces of tribal warriors. Of course, the prices were astronomically high — I could either buy a painting or a piece of land. Obviously they knew we were tourists.

I was talking with one of the locals and was told that there are over 800 languages in PNG and there are still remote tribes that exist today that are far removed from life as we know it.

Just as I was about to ask for the lady to say something in her native tongue, she reached into her pocket and took a bite of a betelnut! I was staring so intently to observe the process that she thought I wanted a bite! OMG, what to do? I didn’t want to be rude, but how high would I get? Would I become a Kool-Aid mouth addict? A few other locals started to gather around. They were all pretty amused to see the “white woman” eat this thing. I listened to the instructions keenly and then, YOLO, I took a bite… OMG! This is the “most bitter” thing I have ever eaten, I was so scared to spit as I didn’t want to offend anyone, but when the Kool-Aid lady saw my face all distorted she started to laugh, I gave up the pretence and spat and spat and spat. My baby pink spit was nowhere near the blood-red colour of the locals’. Everyone around was giggling and waiting for me to say something. I guess I was supposed to be betelnut-buzzed! I could only manage to laugh back.

That was enough excitement. The security guards were anxious to get us back to the hotel.

Sean Paul had two shows in PNG, both in the same venue. Friday night sold out so fast that the promoter put on a second show on the Saturday, which also sold out.

It was an official roll-out that night: police escort and all. We arrived at the Gold Club a half-indoors, half-outdoors, upstairs-downstairs venue; every step, every inch, every landing packed to capacity with fans.

The reception was amazing. Each song was received with screams and then the crowd sang along during the first verse, almost as if trying to outdo Sean.

I got goose bumps so many times throughout the show. The people couldn’t get enough.

The next day we were invited to a local village where a rugby coach (rugby is big in PNG, it’s seen the poor man’s way out). The crew was treated to real local delights, chicken boiled in a coconut sauce, rice, plantains, sweet potato and some vegetable that looked like a cross between callaloo and kale. The cooking method called for stones and not enough salt.

We were by the ocean in a remote village about 45 minutes from the city with no electricity or running water. These are the experiences that no one will ever forget and more than likely ever get the chance to revisit.

As I ate I was talking with a young girl, Yanna. She was only eight and her mouth was Kool-Aid red. It is not uncommon to see young children chewing betelnut and it’s becoming a problem throughout the country.

She told me about her school and then we got into a hoopla hoop competition.

After lunch, and thankful that none of us were on the menu, as it was only 50 years ago that certain tribes stopped eating human meat, we got back to the hotel and started getting ready for the show.

It was déjà vu, the drive, the venue, but this time it was as if the people knew that this was the last show and so the last chance to see Sean Paul live in PNG. As Coppershot released the first song, the uproar was deafening. Sean once again put on an amazing show, connecting with the crowd and keeping everyone singing and dancing along. It was magical to witness.

There’s something special about seeing Sean in action. Looking at the faces in the audience and seeing how happy he makes them, looking into the eyes of a crying girl who is overwhelmed that he is singing just for her, looking at the guy bobbing along to Sean’s lyrics. Every time he hits the stage magic happens! And I’m so humbled that I am able to witness it.

The next day was hectic as the Australian visas expired only the day before, so the easier route home was no longer a possibility.

So another experience awaits. Papua New Guinea to Manila in the Philippines to San Francisco to New York to Miami to Jamaica.

No wonder Sean is so grumpy when he gets home, and needs that downtime.

Road life has so many great and memorable experiences, but trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart.

As soon as we got home I slept for four days straight, but not Sean: him and his crew are off to work their magic in Belize.

I take my hat off to you all.