Waterfalls and the Commando Bear

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Whittled away another night playing canasta (God, how old are we?!) after a rousing evening of Friday night mass (with the carousel-singing-sister) followed by Jamaican jerk chicken wings and guava-pineapple juice. This is the high life!!

We spent the previous three days being consumed by feisty mosquitoes. I now know how it feels to be eaten alive - 67 bug bites on my legs, 29 on my arms, and various others on my head, neck, and even the bottom of my feet. HOW DID THEY GET THERE??

Anyway, today more than made up for the pain of previous days as Sophia, Jornah, Nancy and I made the trek to Dunn’s River Falls in beautiful Ocho Rios. Another life-threatening drive through high mountain towns and the curvaceous area of Fern Gully landed us amidst the gorgeous seaside town of Ocho Rios - one of many tourist traps on this small island. There, we saw more “whities” in 2 minutes than we’d seen in 2 weeks since being here. Dunn’s River Fall is a brilliant fresh-water-fall that pours into the ocean making for a wonderfully sensational combination of warm and cool water. Not only is there swimming in the ocean, but you are able to climb the waterfall. Now, it appeared to us that all of the cruise-ship tourists were climbing with the aid of a tour guide so we, not wanting to look like cruise-ship tourists, decide to adventure out on our own. With Nancy as our fearless leader, Jornah holding strong in the middle, and myself as the caboose (and Sofia relaxing on the beach “guarding” our belongings with her eyes closed), we hiked our way up and over slippery rocks, under footbridges, around random trees and wave pools, and through rugged watery terrain to the top of the waterfall. There aren’t so much steps to climb, it’s more of a hold-on-and-pull-yourself-up or close-your-eyes-and-let-yourself-fall kind of experience. Unbelievable through and through. My rear-end managed to succumb to an unfortunate fall not during the hike but at the end, trying to exit back onto the road. The bright side is that the bruise that formed looked strikingly similar to the profile of A.C. Slater - how very old-school Saved By The Bell. Trying to exit the national park was another feat unto itself. The park is setup, oh-so conveniently, that you must make your way through row after row of vendors trying to sell their wares. I must have been told by at least 4 different men that they loved me and would love me more if I bought a t-shirt or a key chain or a hand-carved wooden marijuana plant or a bust of Bob Marley’s head. Other than this small nuisance at the end of the afternoon, a glorious time was had by all.

The ride home brought about yet another fun Sr. Sophia experience. This time, we were driving toward a man in a wheelchair rolling down the side of the street. Sophia commented to those of us in the car: “Look at that man - so lazy in that wheelchair!” and then proceeded to yell “LAZY MAN!” out the window as we drove past him. Taking stock of the situation, I pointed out that he did not, in fact, have any feet. I said: “Sophia, he doesn’t have any feet.” To this, she replied: “That’s no excuse!”

Good old Sophia. And on the topic of humorous things Sophia has said, I submit the following quotes for your reading enjoyment.

We were talking about Robert, and man we met in Montego Bay, and Sophia commented: “I know a Bobby. I like Bobby in the Young & The Restless; he’s such a handsome stud!”

While playing Canasta (with the sacred Winnie the Pooh playing cards)one evening, Sophia became frustrated that she wasn’t winning and so she said: “There must be something about this Winnie The Pooh - you’re always winning. I know, it must be that he has on no panties.”

Onto other topics, George and I have had to break our contract. He tried to have my foot for breakfast the other morning, which is where I draw the line. As we established from Sophia’s comments, feet are helpful. On the bright side, Jamaica has thoroughly expanded by music folio, particularly at 2 am when you start thinking, “Gee, I’d like to sleep a bit tonight” and suddenly the sound system in a neighborhood two blocks away thinks it’s a brilliant idea to break out Celine Dion’s greatest hits, followed by a little love from, your favorite and mine, Boyz II Men. Clearly, you can’t go wrong with a little Motown Philly.

Love, Meg

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