And so, after the passing of some 20 months of pandemic-ness — adjusting to a life less travelling — the sheet was cinematically ripped from the old-style paper calendar on my work desk (I have neither of those things, but you know — drama) and the day had finally arrived to get on a plane, jettison United States shores and just get back out there!
Excitement was equally paired with rustiness at the kerfuffle of it all, made more of kerfuffle by The-Great-C-Situation
However, as we flew through the night, the anticipated joy of walking out of an island airport into THE TROPICS soon curled its warm, will-be-welcoming tendrils about us, willing us inwards into junglier, beachier climes
We landed. It was fucking hot. We hadn’t really had any sleep
So is the reality of actual travel
Jamaica? No, I went of my own accord…(Sorry).
While I have popped around a bit in the Caribbean in various guises — from student traveler on the East Coast of Costa Rica back in the shiny happy 1990s, to exploring Cuba in its Russian era in 1997, to some Miami stuff (doesn’t count) in ‘the year 2000’ — Jamaica was a fresh land for me to explore…
While this time — did I mention we hadn’t moved from California for nearly 600 days? — we were to be staying pretty much in one place, exploration was still at the heart of it all…
To explore the feel of the place, the sounds and the scents; the surprises too of the more familiar as well as the non…
And, come on, who am I kidding? Also, to explore some rum with its accompanying escapades!
But that’s for later (or never).
Because it is the sense-slaught of Jamaica that beats any rum blast…
Every morning, bleary-eyed, pushing open the wood shutters (and by pushing I mean bashing them open — buckled together as they were by the riotous hot and wet of it all) we were met by a smash-ful of light hitting us right in the face with noisy green, rude blue and joyous yellow.
All together a color riot shouting get out of there and get in here!
The outdoors was on a massive high already and it was infectious…
We’d meander along bleached, crumbling white pathways (for all construction is ever on the wrong edge of jungle reclaim) ‘till we reached lagoon or bay, there to plunge into water of the purest turquoise (not ‘green’ Black Adder fans).
Lil’ razor fish would scoot about the feet, a crane might peer imperiously (impeeriously?) ‘pon our maneuvers but otherwise it was us, the water, the mountains and the music…
Of course, the music. Reggae all day, reggae all night. It’s all we needed…
What I however didn’t know I needed was when the meaty dancehall beats cracked through the air one lazy early morning… Compelled to follow its grind, I found the source just behind the pier on the other side of the lagoon…
As the lagoon lapped and the razor fish scooted, so I experienced an only in Jamaica Sound-System-Test wake up call. ARE YOU REAAAADDYYYYYYYY? (yes, yes I am…)
Otherwise, a lazier rhythm took hold of body and soul and it went like this…
Wander, swim, float, read, Red Stripe, swim, sigh (happy), read (pretend to read — in fact people watch), Red Stripe, repeat…
Night-time though, of course, it all pumped up again
And nothing and NO ONE more so than the bloody frogs.
Now I love me a frog friend, but four hundred million of them piping up at 6pm and proceeding to shout to each other about sex (or something) — for the next 12 hours straight — brings one to a fresh frog feeling…
Finally, they all shag (or some such) and settle down for a day nap. Seriously frogs. Chill a little bit more. You’re in Jamaica!
Frogs aside (I wish) when the sky lit up its fire show and the sun swiftly set his face, then it just might have been time for a lil’ rum and a lil’ jerk something or other… This too, never got old.
So, you meet and you chat and you share and you drink and you hang out and you find out and and you learn and you laugh and you dance and you dance
And then you head back to the frogs for some inspiration…(I kid, I kid…)
And there it was for me. Jamaica this time was a week in a resort. As our first trip away — in way too long — we didn’t really do much at all.
But I did soak in a lot and I’ll be back to explore a bit more…
And for this 156 hours, it really was all and everything that I needed…
One Love
