|View of Jetty From Room|
Speaking of drinks...when we checked in, we were greeted by a man who had a running drunk. I haven't seen one of those in years. He and his wife took the stairs to the upper level and he fell going up. I was afraid that he was going to tumble back down. We immediately nicknamed him "Stairmaster." And he was on a perpetual drunk until the morning he left. Gregarious. Everybody was his friend. Wonder what he's like at home? There were also the people with the big "buddy" cups. You know those 1/2 gallon containers? SF and I missed the memo to bring one. Saves you from having to belly up to the bar on a regular basis. The kicker was the man who showed up with a gallon container and slapped it on the bar. Even the bartender was taken aback.
We made arrangements to take the glass-bottomed boat tour. I thought it would be fantastic to go out around sunset. On the water, sunset, warm temperatures. Girlfriend's been reading too many books. So when we show up, we're told that they think the water is a little rough and give it an hour. Maybe the waves will have died down. They're concerned? Not going at all is fine by me. When we returned, we rescheduled for the next day.
Throughout the main building and in the rooms are great pieces of art--paintings, carvings, ceramic pieces. I've spotted a fantastic urn in the dining room and the burning question is "will they sell it to me?" One of the doormen suggested that we check out the business across the street or one two blocks down to see if they had anything of interest. Off we go.
Now, let me be very clear. Jamaicans do not observe the speed limit. And, there were no stop lights or crosswalks anywhere in view. Crossing the street means taking your life into your hands. We sprinted across the busy road (more like a highway) and took a look at the young man's carvings. Nice but nothing to float anyone's boat. Back across the highway and started to walk the "two blocks" to the next business. As SF stated "Two blocks in Jamaica can mean two miles."
|School of Fish|
The ride back was much smoother--just as I imagined it to be from my books--we were going with the waves and not against them. I'm so glad that I didn't give into my nerves and insist on going back. Now I can check that experience off the list of things to do.
Back on shore, drink in hand (to calm the nerves, of course), enjoying the view and breeze, SF is notified that he has a guest who has been waiting for him for an hour. Get out! It was so good to see him after all these years. I declined the invite to tootle off because my manicure appointment would not wait. The hooves were in sore need of attention and I would have been a 5th wheel.
It is possible, boys and girls, to receive an excellent manicure and pedicure absent the accouterments we are accustomed to in the States. Rose did not have the massage chair with the foot bath; the heat lamp and blower to dry the nails. Your toes were done while she rests your foot on her knee. Soaking is done in the same little foot bath we all have tucked away and never use. And when she whipped out this strange instrument to hack off the husk, my heart jumped into my mouth. An emery/pumice contraption which looked suspiciously like a knife (but wasn't). I've never had a better foot or hand massage. Thanks, Rose.
What's a trip to Jamaica without an encounter with a Rasta man or Ganja man? I'll tell you about mine next. Be Safe Be Blessed.