Paradox in Paradise

[Guirigay]

We stop at Pamela’s before we get back. We have been promising to get fruit from her for days and feel bad because the money has never been right when we pass by. Today we’ll buy a bunch. Mangos and big beautiful grapefruits. We ask about jelli coconuts. “hard to come by this time of year,” she says, “but the dry coconuts are good.” We haven’t seen ANY jelli coconuts at any of the fruit stands. She cracks us one and we drink the water. She husks it when we are done and reminds us to eat everything, “The best vitamins and minerals are in the dark rind.”

We go back to the room and scarf down a giant grapefruit we slice into only six wedges as we get ready for our excursion. Today we’re going spelunking! That’s caving all you dirty minds! I must admit, though, that I have an unchecked box on my life list for spunking while spelunking. It remains un-checked today.

There aren’t any new flowers today. I think our guy got confused yesterday when I paid him for the last couple of days all at once. We have had at least three bouquets in the room since Monday and what is there holds up until we leave so I can’t be too upset. His arrangements got better every day, though, so I had kind of been anticipating his continued improvement.



We load up a bag and head off for, you guessed it, Xtabi. We’re going to have breakfast, shoot some photos in the caves and go for a swim. We grab the table tucked back by the railing under the roof. “good morning, brudda, what will you have?” We order a bread basket, fried plantains and coffee. “I think I need more juice,” says Sweetie Pie and gets a mango juice. “Better bring some waters too,” I add. The coffee comes and our waiter says, “Now I’m going to treat you to some Crystal Punch!” After last night we’re kind of excited at what this might be! He comes back around from the bar with a pitcher. I start laughing, “Water!... Jamaican water!” It is damn fine water. The mango juice is delicious, a thick syrupy sweet beverage.

As we’re enjoying our breakfast another couple comes in for breakfast toting a couple of shoulder bags. They’re in their early thirties I would guess and have the urban bohemian thing going. They order breakfast and are thrown for a loop by the crystal punch bit as well. We share a laugh with them about it. They are a nice couple. We finish a nice leisurely breakfast and get ready to go down to the caves for a “Manly Man and Gurly Girl” photo shoot at the sea window in the rock cave. Sweetie Pie makes a snarky comment about the Bohemians. I do the cartoon head swing, “Wha – Wha – Wha – What?” I say. “They just work too hard at it,” she says and points out a few things that indicate financial status and the effort to have a “look”. I compare their unkempt appearance to Rastas and Sweetie Pie says, ”Rastas don’t work at it, they look that way as a byproduct of what they ARE.” Sweetie Pie is dissing!! I have to smile as I consider how unlike her this is and yet it IS her. I’ve seen The Snark step out before, just very rarely. It makes me think. She is perfectly imperfect…

[Guirigay]

We head down to take some pictures. It is late morning and the light in the cave at the sea window is great. The camera on the iPhone is not. Memories of my children in this cave come and go. My daughter caught the bug for photography in this very spot. I try to let them come, honor them as a good memory and let them go. I try not to let any sadness or yearning linger but that’s not entirely possible. We have a lot of fun shooting down here, Sweetie Pie let’s me pose her and I get a lot of shots I will enjoy for a long time. It doesn’t matter if the lighting or focus are wacky, they capture this moment. I find some interesting places to scramble out to and Sweetie Pie grabs a few shots of me. A few of them turn out OK.



We grab our face masks, drop our bag at the bar and head down the beach cave steps. They are slippery and we take our time. Sweetie Pie is amazed to walk out a hole in the cliffs onto a coral shell beach and out into the sea. I think of what a fish my boy was in the water here, it’s hard not to be a little sad about that. We swim in the cove for a while then head over to the island platform where we catch some sun. Bohemian couple come out for a swim too and we exchange pleasantries, even Sweetie Pie! A few dives off the island rock and we head back in to the beach cave. I tell Sweetie Pie about my daughter getting caught by a wave one day on her way out and getting pushed up into the rocky cliff, fortunately with nothing more than a couple of scratches to show for it. “Be careful,” I say, “ I don’t want to hear…” “I know, I know!” says Sweetie Pie. We safely head up the stairs and grab a couple of drinks to wet our whistles while we dry off.

When we are done we pack up and head off to our next destination, Joseph’s Cave. As we leave Xtabi for the last time this reach I know that we’ll be back. It’s my place now and always will be. I have shared it with my love and now it’s her place too. I hope to fill it with only positive memories for her.

[Guirigay]

When we get to Joseph’s Cave the gate is closed with an unclasped padlock holding it shut. “Miss Mae?” I call out, hoping she’s there. “Yes, I’m coming!” a voice returns from inside the house/shop/inn. The door opens and three dogs come roaring out of the house headed for the gate. “Don’t worry they won’t bother you,” she says.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how I want to convey this afternoon with Miss Mae. It is an incredibly memorable few hours. It is fun, interesting, eye opening and thought provoking. It is absolutely a highlight of a remarkable week. And I don’t think I want to say TOO much about it here. I could write a lot about our time with her but I think Miss Mae is a personality of the first order and to be fully appreciated she should be met and accepted without too many preconceptions. She has led a long and interesting life and comes by her strongly held opinions out of that experience. I admire and respect her for that even if I don’t always agree with her opinions. I will, however, relate my favorite anecdote.

We have been sitting around at the bar for a while talking on a variety of subjects when Miss Mae suddenly says, “While I’m sitting right here!” and starts yelling out at the road, actually swearing a little bit. Off she shoots around the bar and is heading for the gate. We turn around to look and see a young teenage boy on the other side of the street who has just jumped a wall and is trying to scurry across the courtyard of the property. Miss Mae moves right quick, I am impressed. She is out the gate, across the road and in the opposite gate in no time and she has tracked the young rapscallion down. A serious tongue lashing follows the boy back to the wall. In my minds eye I see her dragging him by the ear but I think she is just all over him and giving him the what for as she drives him back to the wall. “Now get back over that wall!” she hollers and forces him to scale back up and over.

She returns as if not much has happened so we kind of talk around the thing for a little bit. We don’t want to pry into her business, but… Eventually it comes out that the boy is from out in Whitehall and he comes here to jump the cliffs for tips from tour boats. He, along with many other boys, hang out next to her property on the cliff and when they see a tour boat in the coves at Rockhouse they jump onto the Josephs property and try to solicit tips. Much about this situation irritates Miss Mae and some of her irritation I find disconcerting but it is her concern that will stick with me forever.

She goes on at some short length about the dangers of cliff diving. She is a somewhat animated woman and continues, “Everywhere they jump,” she says lifting her hand up shoulder high, index finger cocked upward and head tilted looking to where she’s pointing, “They die!” she says. Her arms and head drop as she says this. I know where a few have died on the cliffs and I name them. With each name comes a solemn “Yes,” and a nod. I name a few more that I am unsure of in a more questioning tone. “Yes,” comes the answer to each accompanied by that slow nod. “But not here?” I finally ask. Quick as she scampered across the road she turns to me and raising her finger again says emphatically, “Not yet!!”

Sweetie Pie and Miss Mae bond over some dog talk. Sweetie Pie talks about her concern for the street dogs. Miss Mae shares her concerns. Tarzan, Wolf and Baskill have the good life, Miss Mae loves them dearly. Her food bill for them is large she says. “Chicken, rice, cornmeal, meat,” she says, “It gets expensive.” “You cook for your dogs?” I ask with a big smile. “Of course, they need good food, not that stuff from the bag.” Those dogs eat well.

[Guirigay]

We eventually come to an agreement on the cave usage fee. Miss Mae make it clear she is giving us a deal. We go down and have a great swim in the cave. “Miss Mae LOVES you,” insists Sweetie Pie on numerous occasions. If so it’s probably because all I order the whole afternoon are Tings! There is a sandy bottom here when you’re in shallow enough water to stand. A large school of gar fish are at the mouth of the cave and another large school of silvery blue fish are in the shallows of the cave. There used to be a bar down here back in the day, Ivan pummeled it. It is impressive to see the destructive power of the sea. It is a magical place to go for a swim, our best of the week.




We pay our respects on the way out. We are the only people in her yard this February afternoon and it seems to be just the way she likes it. The young boy is still sitting on the other side of the wall as we make our way back down West End road.

This leads to an interesting philosophical discussion on our way back to Home Sweet Home. I ask Sweetie Pie about her attachment to the street dogs and her desire to help them. I love animals and hate to see them suffer but I am more inclined to assist a human being and look for ways to help that teenage cliff jumper acquire an education instead of risking his life for tips. I find Sweetie Pies logic compelling though. “All human beings have some degree of self determination,” she says, “They can act to change and improve their situation. These dogs were brought here, to an environment that has never supported their species, and been left to their own devices. Dogs don’t have a lot of devices down here!” We talk about her conversation with Debbie Lightheart yesterday. “I’m going to try to help her out when I get home,” she says, “I’ve already checked and Jamaicadogs.com is available.” Sweetie Pie!!

She buys the domain name from her phone before we even get home. The site is up now but she is waiting for confirmation from Debbie before she posts her contact info.

http://jamaicandogs.com/

[Guirigay]

We get back to HSH in time to grab a nap before dinner. This whole nap in the afternoon thing is just seriously addicting. We get up around 5, Sweetie Pie wants to be extra delectable tonight and needs an additional 10 minutes. She is smashing and I do my best to look worthy of taking her arm.

We go out to grab a taxi. There is never a taxi waiting at HSH, you have to flag one down. I figure we’ll have our first experience with a route taxi. So here we are, two decked out tourists on the side of the road and we flag down a red plate. “200 to Catcha Falling Star?” I ask. The driver nods his head and I open the door for Sweetie Pie then jump around the other side. There is another Jamaican in the front seat. The ENTIRE ride from HSH to Catcha he is complaining about tourists riding in the route taxi’s and how 200J is not enough to be taking us all that way. From his expression, tone and what I understand of what he’s saying it’s pretty clear he doesn’t think I understand him at all. The driver stays silent the whole ride. When we pull up to Catcha I hand the driver 500 and as he reaches for change I put my hand up, “All good, Brudda.” I smile thinking about their conversation after we leave. I am less inclined to use route taxis in the future.

As we head into Catcha Sweetie Pie is looking around. “I don’t remember this place. Where are we? How did I miss this?” she says as we step up to the front desk. “Reservations for the Hundred Candles,” I say. “Welcome Guirigay and Sweetie Pie!” says the front desk lady. Sweetie Pie shoots me just the look I was hoping for – a barely controlled sense of excitement and anticipation. We are escorted through a lush manicured garden that winds amongst the cottages. We pass under flower covered trellises and catch a glimpse of the huge thatch covered bar. “Would you like to grab a drink first?” asks our escort, and we head to the bar. “Your waitress will be with you shortly,” says the gentleman and he quickly disappears. As we grab our first sips of Rum and Ting Sweetie Pie looks out across the cove at a table set with flowers and candles on its own private terrace. She looks at the table and then at me with eyes open wide as her heart. “Yes sweetie, that’s our crib for this evening.” The look on her face is priceless and brings me great joy.

Shortly our waitress Karen arrives and introduces herself. “Would you like to see your table?” she asks and takes us out to the terrace. A bottle of bubbly sits in its ice bucket. “Champagne?” asks Karen. We have just started our cocktails but on a night like tonight the only possible answer to that question is, “Of course!” We toast the evening and Karen asks if we would like a couple of pictures. Karen seems to make a habit of asking incredibly easy questions. What a lovely lady.



We grab our drinks for a little walk around before the sun sets. The cliffs at Catcha are amongst the best in Negril. Stairs and walkways cross along the cliff face at multiple levels. As these walkways stretch along they meet alcoves in the cliff face at different locations. These alcoves have little terraces built out from them and a variety of chairs, chaises and thatch umbrellas grace the different terraces. There are places where you may have a perch above you and one below but you would never know they were there sitting in your own little private rookery. A normal talking voice is washed out by the white noise of the sea on the cliffs so there is a true sense of seclusion even though you may be less than an easy lob from your cliffmates. We head for the farthest perch, looking around the point over to Ricks and enjoy a few minutes of that intimate isolation. Sweetie Pie looks aglow the soft hues of the setting sun.

[SweetSue]

I have thoroughly enjoyed reading some of the most wonderful posts as of late. These stories give hope for redemption, moving on, finding one's special other and reinventing a better life. Thank you for sharing it with us...

BTW - I suspect we may have met. You sound very much like a couple I met @ Sun Beach who had bought a hamburger to feed an injured dog. I called a friend who was interested in helping me find him a home, but when they came to see him, he was afraid of the man she had brought with her and would not come near. Unfortunately the free clinic is only available a few times a year when some volunteer Veterinarians come down to JA to run a free spay & neuter clinic. I could not find the rescue group I had heard about. I will be watching your new site, Jamaicandogs. All the best.

[Guirigay]

We head back to our table and settle in for the show. The sun plays a virtuoso symphony of light for us this evening. A progression of movements plays out against the sky, stepping back against a series of clouds reaching to the horizon as the angle of the sun drops.



The crescendo builds to a climax as the sun marches toward its curtain call. Sunlight and candlelight refract through our flutes in harmony as they prepare to pass the melody of illumination.



The sun takes its bows forever tonight. Twilight lingers longer, it seems, than any other night this reach.



A fishing boat heading in from the reef passes by as the last notes play.



The slow and beautiful coda finishes with a surreal burst of late twilight color.



Karen returns and asks us the only question we struggle with this evening, what to have for dinner. I decide on the seafood pasta and Sweetie Pie goes to the house menu for the jerk platter. With the order completed the conversation turns to us. “So why are we here, sweetie, why have you done all this, made all these grand gestures, set so many expectations?” “Do you have expectations, my love?” I ask. “Well, no, not really, not immediately. But my friends sure do! Every time you do one of these romantic getaways all I hear in the lead up to it is ‘oh he’s going to propose, you’re coming back engaged’,” she says and I can see her heart, I know what she really wants. “And besides,” she says,”how are you ever going to top this?” “Top this?” says the Evil Dr. Yes, making his appearance even here,”Don’t worry about that, easy peasy, already got a bead on it.” Oh yes, Evil Plans! Smacks on the shoulder accompany a chorus of “You little pisser!” blurted out amongst laughs. I regain my composure and take her hand.

“I brought you here, my love, and did all this because you deserve it. You are the finest woman I’ve ever known and I don’t want there to ever be a question in your mind that I feel that way. But you know better than anyone where I’m at right now and where I need to go. You know where I’m at with my kids and what I feel I need to do there to be at peace with myself and them. There are things I need to see through before I can truly and freely move forward, but I want you to know and be certain that when I do glance at the future I always see you in it.”

We talk about the past and the present in a very open and honest conversation but tonight what we talk about most is the future. We talk about dreams and aspirations, passions and desires. We paint a picture of a future laid out on a canvas stretched out from today forward. It is a pleasure that is difficult to describe in words. Do you remember it, Sweetie Pie?

[Guirigay]

Through an evening of the most intoxicating and engrossing of conversations we are occasionally and tactfully interrupted by our gracious server. Soup first, a pepper pot again. I think Chicken Lavish’s conch soup is a little better but not a lot better. I think I could probably survive on conch soup and pepper pot. I think Conch Gods soup was a pepper pot also but I’m working from a hazy memory there. A pineapple salad follows. It’s really more of a sweet, fruity slaw on a bed of wild greens but we like it a lot and Sweetie Pie is ecstatic to have a nice plate of raw veggies, a rarity this week. An appetizer plate comes out next, a combination of jerk shrimp, crab cakes and bamboo chicken. The verdict, in order, is amazing, great but ain’t no Bentleys and “How the hell did they make the chicken so tender?” The pace of the service is perfectly languid and meshes with our vibe exactly. Our entrees arrive and we chuckle to each other. They are huge. “Doggie bags,” I smile to Sweetie Pie. “Lucky dog tomorrow,” says Sweetie Pie. “Lucky dog tonight,” I woof.

The night swirls around us as we create another chapter in our own mythology. This night is mystical and magical. A night where no others may tread, ours and ours alone. We have dessert and coffee, Sweetie Pie orders the bananas flambé and we have fun watching the sauce caramelize under the dancing flames. I enjoy my dessert, it is delicious, but I have a giant “DOH!” moment when I realize bananas flambé is bananas foster with rum instead of bourbon. My favorite dessert. Sweetie Pie feeds me enough to leave me just short of satisfied. She’s such a tease. We follow with coffee and aperitifs. We linger, not wanting this night to end.



Sweetie Pie goes to make a visit and when she returns she’s smiling a little. “Bohemian couple is here,” she says and points out their table. When I take my turn we trade pleasantries, they are really enjoying themselves. The parallel coincidence strikes me deeply on this day I’ve put so much preparation toward. I wonder if they planned this day or simply stumbled on perfection. It reminds me of another favorite phrase of mine, though not really in this context – We are all on different paths to the same destination.

With no small effort we decide to head out. We have spent close to five hours winding our way through cocktails, a five course meal, coffee and aperitifs. We snap a picture of the candlelit terrace in the dark and say our goodbyes to Karen.

[Guirigay]

At the gate there is a taxi waiting. “500 to Home Sweet Home?” I ask. “Yah, mon,” he says and opens the door. “I saw you when you came in, mon. You look like the boss mon when you show up. The hat and jacket, mon, you be runnin’ the place. I like that, mon!” These freakin’ Jamaicans! I don’t know exactly how Sweetie Pie got home tonight, I know I flew.

We get back to the room and after Sweetie Pie slips into her little nothing I walk her out to the verandah and seat her facing out to sea. I grab a poem and turn off the lights. Kneeling behind her I caress her neck and tilt the page so I can see it in the rising moonlight. “This poem reminds me of you,” I say and recite:

She Walks In Beauty Like the Night
a poem by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.


One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.


And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

I drop the page in her lap and grab her belly and neck from behind. I nibble and kiss her ear lobe and whisper, “I love you, Sweetie Pie, today, tomorrow, forever…”

[Clarity]

awwww!!!!! So romantic! The whole night!
You guys look beautiful together in those pictures from "Night of a hundred candles" At Catcha.
Tell Sweetiepie she looks stunning in that dress!

I loved reading this! I've been waiting for your next update and it was well worth the wait.
I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed your trip report so far.
Thanks for sharing your love story with us

P.S. That's so great what SP is doing to try to help the dogs in Jamaica. Nice website so far.