.: culture : mash :.

Back from one week in Jamaica, can you imagine this ‘bot finally relaxing on some sand, growing browner by the minute, and actually not touching a computer or even a cell phone for over 7 days? Yeah, I went a little crazy too. But… it was still much needed, and I got a good log going of my stay.

Black for the hardship

Yellow for the sand

Green for the grass.

Day 1: Arrival to Negril

Took a red eye from Los Angeles, arriving in Negril after a one hour car trip at around 8am. My step dad thought it very brilliant to go with an overnight flight… until we had to wait until 1pm to actually get our room.

Negril is gorgeous, and the people seem quite friendly enough. However, it’s the slow season, so the beaches seem somewhat desolate. I’ll come back to this later.

Everyone is your “friend” or you’re their “boss” or “general”.

Later, we went for some local food suggested. Remind me to remind other people to NEVER eat the curried goat. Though apparently, a goat slaughter is a must at any big event or party of celebration. I think I prefer a pinata.

Day 2 - I love Jerk(s)

Today was pretty much about the conquest for good food. Seeing as our previous dinner at Sweet Spice was less than amazing. Bourbon Beach is supposed to have the best jerk chicken. And it was tasty. Only, our server was both stoned the entire time, and had to make two requests for supplies such as french fries and bread, the only other two items on the lunch menu.

Later that evening we returned for an evening of live music, and some reggae listening. Never mind being 28 and vacationing with your parents is perhaps, awkward. Try doing it and having people ask you to dance, smoke pot, or generally reminding you that you look “outstanding” (which I couldn’t hear and had to have the waiter repeat only 4 times to hear through his thick Jamaican accent).

Then came the constant pestering to go dance

“Psst, princess. My princess. Com’ wit me and dance.”

“no thanks” smile, please leave me alone.

This guy later wound up on stage as the main artist of the night. The Singing Hanna. I don’t think I’m ready to be a groupie quite yet.

Day 3 - Our “friends”

My parents know Negril quite well. They’ve vacationed here for over 10 years now, knowing all the locals that help the tourists along. However, this was the first time they’ve ever come during the off season, and ohhhh… it’s obviously the off season.

You literally can’t pass a single person on the beach without being propositioned for a service or good being sold.

“No thanks, no snorkeling today.”

“I’m not in the mood for any ganja today, but thanks for the offer.”

“Honestly lady, I really hate bananas. I’m an asshole like that.”

“Yah mon, Bob will be here later. I know he said we’d go snorkeling.”

By the way, there seem to be critters everywhere. I rather enjoyed them, but my mom was freaking.

This includes the jelly fish that caught me out in the water.

Day 4 - 7 - I get lazy

This is around when I stopped logging the details of my trip. There was a waterfall trip involved, that allowed me to see other parts of the island. I’m amazed at how tiny the homes of the locals were. More like shanty little shacks, they dot the island’s topography.

And, it’s the rainy season. Which means it took us twice as long to reach the airport. Traffic was entirely halted in places where cars were trying to traverse roads turned into rivers. Apparently, it takes a lot of rain to keep an island this red.

I think the largest cultural battle was my stepdad having to drink diet Pepsi the entire visit. They must have some exclusivity deal with the entire country of Jamaica, because there was no diet Coke to be found.

He survived…barely.