JAMAICA 2001

As you know we survived the trip to Jamaica. I know you expected an e-mail with photos etc. but I just haven't got round to getting my poop together. I finally have a few minutes and thought I should at least start an e-mail before I get lynched.

Our Flight south was a turbulent one and as we neared Jamaica we entered a wicked thunderstorm. The plane bounced around, people cried, Olwyn bruised my arm hanging on and I just wished I peed before the Fasten Seat Belts light came on. We finally landed (late because of the storm). The passengers applauded, and the Captain apologized for having to park so far from the terminal when it was raining so hard. Hmmm.... I forgot that not every airport in the world has the facilities for planes to connect right with the terminal. Yuk we had to walk out side! We gathered our possessions and splashed toward the terminal in the rain. I was mumbling about not being able to see without my glasses, which were in my pocket because of the rain. Olwyn walked slowly not knowing if she should puke, cry or just light a smoke beside the fuel truck. Why Jamaica?

The interior of the airport looked more like a bus terminal than an international airport. As we reached our tolerance level we heard music. Four Jamaican women dressed in native costume signing a welcome song in perfect harmony. There was hope! Nope, the tune finished, the girls left and the customs line had grown immensely.

To our surprise we were whisked through customs in minutes. Olwyn grabbed a quick smoke (finished it in one drag) and we were off to the “hustle” of Jamaica. The hustle is just that. If you’re white and non-tanned you must be a tourist and must have money or at least that’s what the natives seem to think. In the thirty-yard walk from customs to our waiting hotel shuttle we had no less than three porters help us with our baggage. First to the Shuttle Operators desk, then to the bus, and finally loaded on to the bus. Each expected a tip. In fact the last leg even had a “collection team” if you know what I mean.

The bus driver warned us that because of the rain the 25-mile ride to the hotel would take us a bit longer. It was an interesting ride to say the least. The roads were narrow, similar to England BUT… potholes that you could lose a truck in. As an added challenge goats and cows lined the side of the roadway; most were not tethered. It seemed that the other drivers didn’t mind the weather as they raced on by us, narrowly missing oncoming traffic. Horns tooted constantly. After several miles our driver explained the honking. A short honk was proper courtesy when overtaking a vehicle. A short honk with a wave was acknowledgement of a passing friend either walking or in another vehicle. A short but slightly longer honk was a friendly gesture toward a passing police car. A double honk was a warning to either imprudent drivers or stupid goats. The long honk (without our famous hand gestures) was saved for hang on we’re about to die. After an hour of honking we arrived at our hotel. I was damned if anyone was going to touch my bag errr our baggage.

We checked in at the registration desk filling in all the required forms as the Bell Hop Peter loaded our bags on his cart. Poop I thought totally defeated as he lead us to our room. Peter gave us the complete tour of the room, how to open the curtains, dresser drawers, closet, and balcony door. He then explained how to operate the TV, lights, safe and shower. Well at least he was making a good effort for his tip I thought as he wished us a good evening and exited without the expected open hand. It was then I remembered the hotels No Tipping policy. Wow what service!

So we’re here, where’s the food and drink? Off to the buffet. Fish! Mmmmm don’t get that much back home. I filled my belly and washed it down with a nice German wine. It was so good I didn’t pay any attention to Olwyn let alone what she had for dinner. I do have a slight recollection of our dessert plates filled with torts and pastry. We both needed a nap and thought an early night would be best. I must have been paying attention to Peter because a) I found the room and b) I knew how to turn on the light.

Just as we started to doze we were reminded of the nightly entertainment. Ours was a garden room. The garden is adjacent to the terrace, which houses the stage for the nightly entertainment. Tonight country music ARGH! Actually it turned out not too bad as the party moves to the disco and to the bar at 11:00. We slept like logs.

Morning came and we woke well rested. As we ate breakfast on the open terrace birds chirped in the warm tropical air. Ahhhhhh vacation at last. We consumed enough food for an entire family and headed to the lobby to meet our Vacation Representative.

The meeting with our Rep. Mark was both entertaining and informative. He warned us about where not to go, what not to buy (including drugs), supplied us with info. on excursions, the best brands of rum etc. He even had “test” questions to make sure we were paying attention. Best of all he didn’t try to sell us a condo!

By 10:00 we were changed and on the beach. A few minutes and 2 Red Stripes later I made the conscious decision to stop drinking beer. Instead I’d drink a different cocktail each day. Today was to be “no problem” day. We’ll just say a no problem is like a fruit punch. The day was nice, partially cloudy with a sea breeze.

A view of the beach.

We basically spent the day getting familiar with the hotel complex. The grounds, garden, pool, beach and hotel itself were very well maintained.

A view from our door. The path leads to the badminton and tennis courts.

A view of the garden from our balcony. The gazebo is used for weddings or aquiet retreat from the sun. The garden extends from the hotel to the pool andbeach area.

Path to the beach. The lower blue roofed buildings are cottages. They are alittle more spacious than the normal hotel rooms.

Aerial view of the previou two shots in an attempt to put things in perspective. From top to bottom: the sea; the first blue roof are the pool bar and grill; the blue roofs on left are the cottages; in the centre is a Norfolk Pine; the tall trees with red blooms are African Tulips; the gazebo; and in the foreground is the covered stage on the edge of the terrace (that’s where “Show Time” occurs nightly).

The pool with bar and grill in background.

The “Trelawny Beach Hotel and Fun Resort” has enough going on you probably could keep busy without going off the property. At the risk of sounding like a tourist ad some of the included activities were:

- Jogging, walking, or shopping trips.- Tennis with instructions from the local pro.- Badminton- Basket ball- Soccer- Beach volleyball- Horse shoes- Full gym facilities- Aquasize classes- Wind surfing- Sailing- Kayaking- Dance lessons- Bartending lessons- Entertainment (everything from bingo to cabaret shows)- Golf (once a week)

Paid tours were equally impressive:- Glass bottom boats- Parasailing- Water skiing- Jet skis- Scuba diving- Horseback riding- Raft rides- Ocho Rios, Montego Bay, Blue Mountain etc.

Lunch and dinner made breakfast look like a snack. I probably shouldn’t have gone further than the salad bar but I managed enough strength to make several trips which got me right round to the dessert table. I won’t repeat references to the buffet tables anymore except to say I gained a pound a day. I think that should put things into perspective.

After dinner we went for a stroll through the garden and down the beach returning to the terrace for the nightly “Show Time”. The entertainment crew worked hard and spared no expense. Each night’s Show Time was different, exceptional shows ranging from the Country Western band I spoke of to folk dancers, limbo dancers, fire-eaters, and bands that would charge heavy cover charges back home. Unlike home everyone participated. It only took me until Monday to be up on stage dancing. Yes that’s what I said dancing and yes I said on stage not the dance floor. Man those lights are hot and bright. To the best of my knowledge no pictures exist though’ I’m sure there are one or two in albums someplace. I just hope they don’t show up in Winnipeg.

The Almond Terrace. The tables in the foreground are used for seating when you choose to eat at the buffet.

Tuesday was a cloudy cooler day (78 Fahrenheit) with a few showers. We decided to go rafting on the Martha Brae. We booked the tour through the hotel including transportation. This is how we met the person that would become our cabbie Ronnie Bent.

Ronnie Bent and his cab.

The raft trip was, IS a must! You float down the Martha Brae river on a bamboo raft captained by locals that will leave you be or give you an Ecco/Nature/educational tour. Or they talk about any topic of your choosing. We learned that bamboo can grow between 6inches and a foot a day, herons frequent the area, the areas hills and mountains are predominately lime stone, the mongoose has controlled most of the smaller snakes but there are still plenty of big ones (boa constrictors) up in the hills, and that bamboo rafts will eventually get water logged and sink. The youth and schools have the same problems as here in Canada. But the parents pay the cost of schooling. Yes the Jamaican hustle is even present in the jungle. It's not bad though it’s just part of life, we all have to eat. Just remember don’t pay full price. Even our raft captain sold carvings he made in his spare time.

Cecil our raft captain. He’s also one heck of a carver.

A lazy day on the Martha Brae!

The stress and excitement of rafting required a restful day. We stayed around the hotel and beach walking miles. The picture below is from the top of the hotel looking northeast. We were able to walk pretty much to the point (on most days).

Between walks we watched and participated in poolside activities. We also sampled the fare at the pool bar and grill. Stay away from the Planters Punch! It goes down smooth and refreshing but it sure sneaks up on you. I later found that fruit punch it was not. The recipe: 1 oz. of each white rum, amber rum, coconut rum, the fruity taste came from cherry brandy, orange and pineapple juice or something similar. I waited too long before asking. Thankfully Olwyn was there to take care of me.

The “towel competition”. Participants had three minutes to come up with the best costume using beach towels. The guy on the far left only had the towel. The guy on the far right was called Mr Happy. The bulge in the lower towel came up on several occasions. He won by unanimous decision.

Time for a road trip! We arranged with another couple to head on down the highway for a visit to Discovery Bay, Ocho Rios, and Dunn’s River Falls. Unlike home, cabbies are different in Jamaica. Ronnie picked us up at 09:00 sharp guided us for the whole day treating us like a chauffer would treat royalty.

On the way to Ocho Rios we passed Discovery Bay where Columbus stopped to replenish his ship with fruits and fresh water. Ronnie pointed out childhood residences of Harry Bellefonte and Colin Powel’s family. Our first real stop was shopping at Soni’s Plaza in Ocho Rios. Because we with Ronnie we were able to park in preferred areas. We shopped as Ron protected our purchases in his car. Remember I said earlier “don’t pay full price”? Well we made a purchase here that will illustrate what I mean. The item was ticketed at $24.95 US. I negotiated what I thought to be a good price $12.00 especially considering they would cash a travellers cheque without the bank or hotel surcharge. Grinning like Cheshire cat we entered the next store where the same item was ticketed at $12.99 hmmmmm…..

Soni’s Plaza also known as the “Passage to India”.

Across the street from Soni’s was a Crafter’s Market.

The place was total chaos. The crafts ranged from total junk to “fine art”. The hustle was ever present as crafters placed their wares in your hand then, some refused to take them back until you insisted that you weren’t interested. Wood carvers were quick to “customize” their pieces with a “Yeah Man”, “Irie” or your name. Irie is the patois expression for Excellent. Patios is the version of English Jamacians speak when they are away from the tourists. We browsed cautiously as Ron had warned us of pick pockets. In some areas the purple haze was so thick more than two breaths would have had you higher than a kite. A Rastafarian offered “smokie smokie?”. My no thanks triggered a hearty laugh. We made a few purchases here. One from a person that made you feel you were in a high price department store except for the dirt floor and the fact that we negotiated the price. A different purchase, well, I wondered if we’d just lost a wack of cash as the seller raced off with my $20 Olwyn in hot pursuit. All worked out as both sales person and Olwyn returned with the correct change after several minutes. Tip: pay with small bills or exact change.

We met up with the other couple and Ronnie took us to an “Americanized” restaurant for lunch. Over lunch we discussed our purchases and experiences. The other couple purchased 35 pounds of Jamaican Blue Mountain Coffee. The deal was too good to be true only $15.00 US a pound compared to the $45 price in the US. Ronnie admitted that was a great price but it was still way to much for me to pay. We finished lunch and headed to Dunn’s River to climb the falls.

We reached the Falls Park after a short drive. Ronnie escorted us to the change room facilities then to the shoe rental both and finally to the guides that would help us with our climb. I declined the rubber “grip” shoes opting for my trusty bare feet. I wondered if it was the right decision as guides questioned my choice as we made our way to the mouth of the river. It began to rain as we started to climb. No problem, as the rain actually felt warm. One of the guides collected our cameras promising to keep them dry. With eight cameras around his neck he cried out “look at me I’m Japanese” then laughed heartily and bounded up the falls to the first plateau.

The Dunn’s River Falls.

Olwyn and I at one of the many plateaus we encountered while climbing the falls.

About half way up the falls Olwyn surprised me when she agreed to the guides suggestion of taking a cool photo of us falling backward into a pool. First off I was surprised that she made it that far up the falls then this? Wow!

We eventually made it to the top. My feet were fine and I made a point of showing those tootsies to both guides and shoe rental staff. Leaving the park involved another craft market. By now we knew how to say no and we quickly made it back to our waiting cab.

By now the rain had increased to one of those steady spring rains the farmers love back home. Ronnie wasn’t impressed as the pot holes in the main highway filled with water. To put it mildly Ronnie was definitely opinionated. As Ron told us of corrupt politicians that filled their pockets instead of fixing the roads the pot holes disappeared. Soon so did the roads. The approaching cars were bumper deep in the water. Time for a detour , we turned off the highway and headed up into the hills. This road was more like a mountain stream than a road. Rocks bumped our feet off the car floor as we drove over them. Olwyn suggested we stop and wait things out but Ronnie said it’ll only get worse. His careful driving had us back at the hotel in time for supper.

View of the main highway before things got real bad.

We spent the next few days around the hotel area shopping, walking trying new food, drink, and pastimes. The hotel allowed a few crafters to display their wares on the pool deck. We started by browsing their displays then headed to the Bamboo Village just down the beach. The village is a shopping mall of sorts. Over fifty shops including Zellers, Wal-Mart, K-Mart, J.C. Penny and Birks. After our experience with the Crafter’s Market we were extra cautious. The caution was not required this was a much calmer atmosphere. We watched wood carvers in awe of their talents. Their spouses did the final sanding while the kids did bead work. Anything and everything was for sale at a “package price”. The more you bought the better the deal. If a shop didn’t have what you were looking for the owner would quickly guide you to their sister or brothers shop as they were sure to have that item. I find it difficult to believe that they were al related. It was hard to select items we wanted but we did manage to buy a few things. To other shop owners we promised to come back another time. We of course lived up to the promise.

The road entrance to the Bamboo village. The yellow building is K-Mart.

Olwyn meets the owner of the local Wal-Mart.

Of the poolside crafters Olwyn took a special liking to Nyron Williams a.k.a. the Wicker Machine. Nyron created all of the hotels wicker furniture and now frequents the hotel teaching guests the art of weaving. Olwyn had to try making a basket. After about thirty minutes of Nyron’s tutoring she was done and I must admit I was impressed. Besides furniture and baskets Nyron also created bracelets all of course were made of wicker. Watching Nyron weave was amazing. His hands often moved faster than our eyes.

Olwyn weaving.

Olwyn and Nyron.

Earlier in the week I took this picture of what I thought were wrecked boats.

A few days later while walking the beach early in the morning we were bothsurprised to see the boats being used for fishing.

The locals would string their nets close to the shore then paddle about smacking the water with a stick to chase the fish toward shore and their nets. The catch of the day was squid, ocean jack and some other weird looking thing. Some days there were as many as 7 or 8 boats dotting the horizon. The neat part was conservation. When they caught what they needed the day was done. Nothing was ever wasted.

Today lunch was a treat for me. I ventured to the local restaurant across the street for real Jerk chicken. I had to make several trips as it wasn’t quite ready even though it was noon. The hotel bell hop saw my frequent road crossing and asked what was wrong. When I told him he said “Don’t hurry the cook, you don’t want to eat underdone chicken in Jamaica”. Good point I thought. About 45 minutes later I was in heaven. Wow what a great tasting meal. The spicy hot Barbequed chicken brought immediate sweat to my brow. I thought for sure I’d pay the price later. I was wrong, no upset stomach, no gas, no burning sensation the day after. Just a great meal.

Front gate of the hotel complex. Restaurant with the world’s best Jerk chicken just across the street.

A meals a meal right? Well that was a good one. Speaking of right that reminds me of Henry, Henry Wright actually. Henry is the Water Sports Supervisor. He over sees the pool, sailing, surfing, water sking, boat rides and jet ski rentals. In his free moments he helps out at the pool bar. He made me one heck of a drink to wash down the chicken and we became friends from that point on. I know that sound corny but it’s really like that. The people we met quickly became friends. I’ll never forget Henry’s hearty laugh.

Ken and Henry by the pool.

January 30th , Olwyn’s 50th birthday was a most enjoyable day. We started by going horseback riding. Ronnie once again provided the transportation. On this journey he showed us his favourite tree, All Spice. Crushing a leaf filled the air with the beautiful sweet smell of all spice. Ron also pointed out Ackee trees which produce the fruit used in the famous Jamaican dish Ackee and salt fish. We were warned that consuming the fruit before it was properly ripened was quite toxic. After signing us in at the stable office Ron found a shady spot under the All Spice tree to wait for us to return.

Thankfully the horses were like the “trail horses” here. In other words they knew the route and no driving skills were required. We rode across the highway through a farmer’s field toward the sea. After riding briefly through the water we followed the shore to a nice cove where we unsaddled the horses. Those that wanted to could take a horse swimming. It looked like fun but I was having enough trouble on an English style saddle let alone bareback.

Olwyn saddled up.

Horseback swimming.

We saddled up and headed off. The next leg of our journey took us along an old airstrip used by drug smugglers in the late 70’s. At the end of the strip was the Plane Stop, a local bar and grill so named to commemorate the last drug plane to use the the runway. That plane still sits at the end of the runway where it crashed because it was overloaded and it could not lift off. It was early afternoon and we all needed a drink. Byron, our guide, told us the history of how he crashed his plane. By my calculation if it was Byron’s plane he’d have been about 7 when he crashed. We had a good time joking and teasing each other. The real Jamaica is it’s people!

Byron and “his” plane. Poor bugger got his foot caught after this picture was taken.

We took the afternoon easy as we were stiff from the two hour ride. For dinner we chose the fanciest of the hotel restaurants “The Jamaica Room”. Our waiter Andrew treated us like king and queen. After dinner we went for a walk to the beach where a steel band played Happy Birthday for my Olwyn.

Having dinner in the Jamaica Room.

We got the great idea to meet more locals. The best place in our opinion was the local market in Falmouth a village about five miles down the road. The Wednesday market was the busiest day according to the hotel staff. We once again called on Ronnie to provide the transportation to Wednesday’s market. On the way Ronnie informed us that the market was “Thee” market for the entire island and that both buyers and sellers travelled from Kingston to participate. He cautioned that some were not the most trustworthy. We had travelled through the village on the way to the hotel from the airport but today it had changed. It still looked like a third world country village; today two main streets were closed to traffic and were lined with peddlers and filled with buyers. Ron parked the car and escorted us to the shops that were closest to what we were use to at home. The shop missed the target but that’s not why we were here anyway. Ron went back to the car and we ventured to the market. Words and pictures could describe the next hour. This was marketing at it’s finest. Tooth brushes, lingerie, pots and pans, fruits and vegetables, clothes, drugs you name it and it was for sale here. Some goods were on carts others on tables and some were being sold right out of the arms of the pedlar. We were recognised by workers at the hotel. One fellow offered to show us the way and buy the items we were interested in on our behalf. Hmmm I thought, I can manage on my own. He finally took the hint when we mentioned that Ronnie Bent was watching out for us. He gave some free advice telling us not to go beyond the market area and to be careful in what we took pictures of as there were “many people from Kingston here”. We thanked him and moved on to the next street where the vendors were more organized and more aggressive. A few even had megaphones to call you to their shop which wasn’t really a shop at all just a make shift tent. Within seconds the megaphones were alive “Hey white man. White man come to my shop.” “Hey white boy what’s wrong with my shop?” “White man, white man in the market!” I asked Olwyn if they were talking to me. “Duh she said, we’re the only white people here!” We walked on, one hand on my wallet one on my camera. I didn’t realize it at the time but I must have been somewhat uncomfortable because I only took one picture and it was at the far end of the market away from most of the hustle.

It was an exhausting walk. We headed to the sea and peace. Ahhhhhh ! We caught our breath and turned to return to the hustle. To our surprise we were being watched by four school boys. They were about 7 or 8 years old dressed in their school uniforms just standing there smiling at us as if they’d never seen a white man. What a different perspective on life. We strolled the village a bit more. It was now two o’clock and the heat got to us. Time to head back. At the hotel we shared some stories with Ronnie about our experiences over the past couple of hours. He seemed amazed that a simple trip to the market was an adventure to us.

By now Ronnie had become a friend. He showed us pictures of his family, gave us his mailing address and phone number. Told us his dreams and goals in life etc. Again the difference between Jamaica and Canada surfaced. Like us Ronnie purchased weekly lottery tickets “just in case”. Unlike us where if we win we retire. Ronnie’s dream was to win so he could buy a bus (Toyota van). Then he’d be able to make good money! Man, even the dreams are geared down. It makes you realise how fortunate we really are. Now it was our turn to amaze. We changed the subject to snow and freezing temperatures. I don’t think he could relate, not one bit!

Well time was running out. Our first week was like an eternity, now, midway through our second and time was flying by. I remembered the feeling from grade school, two months of summer vacation lasted forever. We stayed around the hotel for the remaining days soaking up as much sun as we could.

We of course visited the Bamboo Village as we had promised the shop keepers. We even made a purchase or two. Our Vacation Rep. from Air Canada had cautioned us on purchasing wood carvings stating that most types of wood would crack because of the climate differences in Canada. We of course knew better. He was right!

Olwyn fell in love with this mahogany dolphin.

We bought this mask for Jordan. It’s carved from cedar and so far has held up to our cold dry air.

As time passed I got a little more spontaneous. Olwyn and I had tried kayaking during the first week but it’s sailing I wanted to try. When Henry offered a quick lesson I jumped at the opportunity. OK truth be known Henry offered to give me a ride. When we got away from the shore he handed me the reins and said go to it man. I’m glad that he did, because I really enjoyed it. Who knows I could be wind surfing next time.

Those tempting sailboats with Henry trying to drum up business.

Ken sailing.

Our final day came too fast. On the final morning we walked the beach and said our good byes to some of the staff that had made the vacation most enjoyable. It was like saying good bye to family. As we waited with others for our bus to the airport the common discussion in the hotel lobby was everyone’s desire to return. The return flight was pretty much uneventful. Winnipeg had not changed one bit. It was still cold and there was still snow on the ground.

A view of the beach with our hotel in the distance a hard sight to leave.

P.S. A few thoughts from Olwyn:

Ken’s narrative is a great synopsis of our trip (and I much appreciate all the work he has done to add the photos and so on: I haven’t the patience to learn all the techno-wizardry to get things to look like this!!). My only addition here is a brief comment on the people. We met and learned to really enjoy such a wide variety of characters and personalities while we were down there and I think the thing that struck me the most was how outwardly cheerful and happy everyone was….all the time! We had dinner one evening with a Jamaican Evangelical pastor and his wife and I asked him if this unending cheer and goodwill was simply the “locals” trying to con the tourists, or was it in fact genuine? His response was a hearty “commercial” for nearly everything Jamaican and especially the people. Yes, they are always like this. Even when tragedy hits or they have barely enough money for food, or whatever, they look at the bright side of things. They seem to be an eternally optimistic race of people, maybe because so many of them have so little to call their own…their joy in the simple pleasures of everyday life keeps them going, no matter what might happen to them. We both felt honoured to have been a part of these peoples lives, even if only for a short time. They “touched our souls”, as the old poem goes!

And we are both convinced we want to go back! So if you are interested in joining us, please let us know…we’d love to “show off” our new found friends and their beautiful country to you!!