Jamaica part 1

October 12, 1980, Jamaica was in the birthing pains of a revolution. It was my 25th birthday and I was there. Sitting in the arbor looking over the Caribbean Sea at the Villas Negril hotel veranda pergola sipping on an amazing cup of coffee with my beloved, newlywed. They say that timing is everything but wow how did we fall into the rhythm of the universe. (God’s plan) Selecting Negril Jamaica to be the place for our honeymoon at such a volatile time there. I certainly had no idea what I was getting us into selecting such a destination for one of the most amazing moments of our lives. I did no research. I only knew that I wanted us to go to a tropical island and have an adventure.

In 1980 the village of Negril, pulsed to the rhythm of reggae music that was played over the loudspeakers in the village center. We could hear it up on the hill, half a mile away, while we enjoy the luxury of a fine hotel, in a bedroom with a balcony. Enjoying our blissful youth, conceiving our firstborn, and experiencing the blind faith of our innocence. Sitting on the veranda at a white cloth table for two, we romanced over a simple meal. And the alfresco dining, surrounded and covered by an arbor of flowering, wandering, vines, tropical flowers that fill the air with the fragrance of beauty. Forgiveness is the fragrance of crushed flowers. We were surrounded by forgiveness. After a few days of what was like, Kahlil Gibran books that we would read to each other from time to time. We wandered down to the Village Square.

 The Jamaican people were very generous with their smiles and often ended their sentences with the word “respect”. “Respect, mon!” Though they lived in what we statesmen would call poverty, they were some of the happiest people we ever met. The simple live simple, and that’s the island way. It just made us wanna shift - slow it way down and melt into the groove of the culture.

We strolled about holding hands through the marketplace, talking to different merchants while enjoying their art for crafts. Making a small purchase on a very limited budget to take home a Momento. We had a real craving for lobster feeling like it was probably the best place we would find it. So we inquired about a restaurant on the water where we could go sit at a table by the sea and enjoy our lobster meal, we were given directions a few blocks away, an easy walk. When we got there and sat at the table, enjoying the view of the ocean, the water smells, the seagulls, and the reggae music that was pulsing through the village. It all seems so perfect. We ordered our lobster, and when it arrived at the table, the strong scent of ammonia permeated our space. It was as if I was smelling, smelling salts to be revived.

The food was really bad. It was old and had been in a freezer for a long time and they tried to sell it off to us, foolish young tourists. I barely negotiated my way out of not paying for that rotten food but I did, and we hurried our way along the coastal road that rolled and meandered. There were little huts along the way surrounded by tall, coconut trees, with the locals, trying to sell us their goods and crafts. The road was made of dirt and gravel, and there would be safari-like jeeps that would occasionally pass us as we walked. Back in the states, I had tended a bar upstairs in a restaurant, called the Soup Terrine. The owner Jim had often gone to Jamaica and would tell stories about his experiences there. He fondly talked of a place called Ricks café https://www.astoldbynella.com/blog/ricks-cafe-jamaica that had a small restaurant where people would dine and watch the locals dive off of 50-foot cliffs. This was one of our destinations.