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 a
quiet retreat from the sun. The garden extends from the hotel to the pool and
beach area.
Path to the beach. The lower blue roofed buildings are cottages. They are a
little 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.