Day 4

Central America Caribbean » Jamaica
May 15th 2012

Published: May 15th 2012

I decided to take it easy today since I knew my neighbors would want to party at night. I woke up at 7:30and had my morning ritual of drinking 1.5 liters of water while I waited on my breakfast. Melanie came out and asked if I wanted to go snorkeling. While I loved it, I wasn't going out on a boat two days in a row. I told her how much she should pay and gave her some haggling tips.

My skin was a nice mocha dark now and didn't feel tight. I was ready for more sun. I hit the beach with my phone and start transcribing the nights events on this blog. I'm sitting under a cover to both ease into the sun and see my iPhone screen. The cover is 8 foot in diameter and has bench seating along the perimeter. Alocal sits under it with me after I'm done typing. Initially he just says "what's up general" and I respond and stare back at the water. I have my guard up now and would rather be a dick than deal with these young punks anymore.

After maybe 15 minutes I start popping my shoulder (bad habit) and he asks about it. We get to talking and he's a nice gentle guy. His name was Osano? and today was his 19th birthday. Most his family is in new York and he told me he wants to move out there because it's more beautiful than Jamaica. I laughed in his face. We talked on and off for 30 minutes, and my good sense told me he wanted something. Here it came: "want me to get you a Jamaican girl mon?"

"nah man I'll just go to a party or something"

"but will you though?"

"why not? We're planning on hitting up Alfred's tonight."

"can you invite me?"

I thought ahead since we're going to bourbon beach. I told him sure. After that I tried to not speak, luckily the woman selling fruit came by. I had $1000 ja and I told her I had no money and to wait and I'll get some. Osano offered to pay for me, I knew these guys don't do favors for no reason so I went back to my room to just get enough money to buy fruit so Osano didn't try to sell me shrooms or ganja with the change.

I came back and the woman was seated with her fruit basket. Two ladies from Canada have bought from her daily and bought her a drink. The woman was eating her lunch. I bought a coconut and two mangoes from her. She opened the coconut when I was done drinking it. I sat at the picnic table with the fruit vendor and the two Canadians. We had a pleasant conversation, and it gave me an excuse to avoid Osano. Afterwards the fruit vendor asked me to help her lift her basket. It was a wicker type and weighed every bit of 30 pounds. She balanced it on her head and walked off, without touching it, on the sand mind you. My jaw dropped. The Canadians told me she was 56. Literally the best example of perfect posture I have ever seen.

Osano itched closer to the table. I was talking off and on to the Canadians. At one point he tried to get my attention, I pretended I didn't hear him and asked them something. Finally I figured I would find a break and get up and walk down the beach. Osaono is Literally not a day past 19 and already a pimp. I wasn't dealing with his shit.

I took off with headphones inserted this time. The beach was a lot less busy than Saturday. I scoped out some new potential dining locales. It's amazing how these places are all feet from the water. I tried an approach of somewhat dancing while I walked, figure I might look crazy enough. I didn't get bothered until two walked alongside me talking about ganja again. Thankfully right as the convo started I saw Melanie posing with a huge red snapper. A guy she was on a snorkeling boat with caught it. We caught up about our day and she asked me to join her on the beach, I declined since I didn't have my towel just my iPhone and shorts. Her friend (whose name I still didnt know) asked some questions in German. Melanie giggled. I asked what's funny? Melanie told her "say it in English!"

"what... You do tonight?"

Weird because I thought we made plans. I asked about bourbon beach. She mentioned some party on a roof downtown. Obviously they apparently aren't marks like I am, so I decided I had enough of those type of parties and made clear I was going to the beach. They said something to each other and seemed to argue a little. "ok I'm going to the room!" I stated as I walked off.

The beach takes about 5 hours to walk end to end and my ankles were sore from yesterday. I wasn't sure if snorkeling or sand dancing made me sore.

I get back and the housekeeper scolds me for not washing my feet. Last nights party was on the beach after all. I apologize and washed them. I come back out and heat up my last chicken. I'm sitting there doing my routine of nothing and Omar comes out with a huge stick and a couple oversized green hand grenades. They are grapefruits he explains, you roast them and the skin comes off. We talk a little about fruits in Jamaica and brazil. He tells me he'll bring me some to try tomorrow. I thank him and watch him climb a tree and pick some more. He effortlessly gets around at the top of a tree. It's obvious that at his age, or anyone that's that old, the key to remaining athletic is staying active. The second you put a wheelchair ramp in your house you might as well install a toilet to it.

I walk into town to buy some fruit and a bottle of Jamaican rum. Downtown negril is a ring of hoes and drugs so I didn't stay long. When I walked out of the super market somebody yelled at me. I turn around and it's two guys sitting on a wall. I get closer and say what's up?

"puvamas!"

"huh?"

"vamas!"

They are pointing to my feet. I say "oh vibrams!"

They get excited and give me a thumbs up. I was shocked they heard of them. I packed my vibrams to run on the beach only. But I developed a blister between my big and second biggest toe so I wasn't wearing my flop flips.

I get back to the yoga center and start reading and writing some. I see Melanie walking around just showered up. We chit chat about sunburns and bug bites. No mention of tonight. In my mind I refuse to go to that downtown roof party if it gets brought up.

I recalled the lakers/thunder game is tonight. I don't care at all. I take this as a sign that I'm fully relaxed.

I go in and shower. I vowed to not soap anything but my "swimsuit area" and arm pits while here to keep my skin from drying and not wash my hair. My fingers barely go through my hair when I get out. I decide to borrow shampoo from the girls tomorrow.

I sit on the bench, the security guard comes around. I forgot if his name was Ronald or Robert. I call him man. I ask him what's going on tonight, he mentions the roof party. God damn it, Im still not going.

I initially would of been content going to bed at 8 every night with the cool island breeze and reggae music in the background every night and then beaching it up all day. However now that I met the girls I'm just content with going with the flow. But I am NOT partying with a bunch of jas that give me fake "welcome to Jamaica!" pounds only to hope to scam me. Most of the places on the beach look out for this, downtown I know they won't.

I wonder out at 8 or so to get some food. Robert asks me why I'm not leaving with my friends. I told him I'm just getting food and I'll be back. My plan was to stay out until 11 so they can go to the rooftop party.

Walking to bourbon beach I see the street vendor I bought chicken from the night before "hey tall man!" he yells. His friend laughs at the joke(?)

I get to bourbon beach and walk in. 10 jas and me. They all stare. One anxiously scoots over and tells me to sit... Great. Another asked me if I was there last night, I lied for some reason and said no. They have two TVs over the bar. I figure my out is to ask the bartender for the game, then when he struggles to find it I leave. He does and I do.

Next restaurant is called Kuybasi. There is a guard outside and a lit menu board. They have an elegant candle lit patio overlooking the beach. It was beautiful and romantic. I decided to treat my favorite person to a romantic evening.

Words can not do this place justice. If they have a website I hope someone reading this searches for it. Look up and you see an open sky. To my left was the entire ocean with small waves crashing 30 feet away. The candles were 90%!o(MISSING)f the lighting, so what others were doing didn't distract you. I sit down and see maybe 10 other diners, all of which are couples. Two were near me, it was two men 15 years or so apart. They were the worst kind of traveler, the kind that pretends to be interested in the native culture but never seeks it. At least the all inclusive crowd is honest. I lose interest in them quick.

I order some shrimp dish in a papaya with a fruit salsa and a drink I never heard of called a black Russian. I wanted to order some Jamaican cocktail and I never saw this before. I wasn't sure what it was and his explanation told me it was vodka with some liqueur. I'm not a big fan of shrimp or vodka, so I really don't know why I ordered either thing. I think I just wanted to stop staring at a menu and enjoy my surroundings.

He brings me my drink and a crappy bread roll. I don't eat grains anymore but I was hungry and I wasn't sure how big their portions were. I start on my drink. I'm the epitome of relaxed. I was in such a peaceful state of mind I was upset when my food came. It's beautiful tasty food. I eat it as slow as I can. He takes his time clearing my plate. I'm normally a fast moving guy, walk fast, drive fast, eat fast, talk fast. Out here I've been enjoying the locals on island time. I get another black Russian.

A man comes to the shore and is playing a sax. It's funny because reggae is coming from two different sides of the beach and he is almost drowned out.

Someone is walking in high heels right behind me. "hi, I'm holly. What's your name?"

She pounces my name authentic like with a British accent. I think she asked where I was from and if I was alone. She was about mid 40s, blonde and skinnier than aneroxia.

"listen, im here with some weird people" she said. "after I eat dinner want to go over next door and get a drink?"

"where at bourbon beach?"

"I'm not sure what it's called or what it is, I don't know this area."

I agree. She restates the plans and walk off. I listen for when her heels stop, she's dining maybe 15 yards away with a man.

I wasnt sure if she was hitting on me or saw that i alone and figured she could vent to me. Some 40 something proper British woman drinking and ranting about her problems around a bunch of Jamaicans. I thought to myself "this will be great for my travelblog!"

I slowly finish my drink. I ask for my bill. Server brings that and a comment card. I fill out the comment card and tell him I enjoyed everything. He comes back and grabs the comment card and turns his back. He turns back around and is all excited. "all right my man Paulo from Sao Paulo!" and gives a big handshake.

I wondered what would have happened if I put something bad. I remain seated for another 10 minutes waiting for holly to finish. I get up and ask the same server where the bathroom is. He's amongst 3 other servers. He points me in the right direction enthusiastically. He tells the others "that's my man Paulo from Sao Paulo!"

I get back and walk to bourbon beach. I didn't want to approach holly while she was eating and didn't make eye contact. I figured she would meet me there.

I get there and they put a tarp around the perimeter. I look over the top... Basketball! They are playing live reggae and charging a cover. I gladly pay.

I see the bartender who I was asking about the game to. His name is Damian and cool as shit. We talk the rest of the game. The lakers were losing by twenty when I came in, I didn't care. I was in a beach in Jamaica with live music on. The lakers have been annoying to watch this year anyways. Bynums a pouty kid, Pau disappears and Kobe can play like a selfish prick.

A couple white people were there, they were by the stage. I was at the bar with the locals. A rasta sits next to me and is trying to sell me his cd. I refuse. He talks after a couple minutes and lowered the price.

"I'm just trying to make an honest living man" he explains.

"me to, im not a rich man. If I give you money I won't have enough to drink and enjoy myself."

I give him 100 and tell him to perform well when he goes on stage.

A local woman starts flirting with me. Her name is Selene. Shes wearing a very tight and short spandex dress. I assume she's a prostitute. I get mad at myself for stereotyping, but damn if all the pimps that have approached me here aren't too blame.

A really old dread tries to get me to buy him a beer. I refuse. He does the check your pocket routine. I smartly only brought enough cash to cover food and a couple drinks. I point out that I only have enough for one more drink and offer to share it.

"in Jamaica we do not share a beer with another man!"

I told him I was from France and we only ask people to share, not just ask for things outright.

He's either confused or mad, but leaves me alone. Success.

I sit down near the stage and enjoy the music. I look over and the two german girls made their way down. I sit next to them for a couple of hours and we head back around 12:30.

We make plans to spend the day on the beach together and then go to the cliffs tomorrow.

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