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I'm sorry it's taking so long to finish this trip report. After a while regular life catches up with you. Your friends don't want to hear anymore, that you are “supposedly” sitting home writing about your last vacation and you have to pass up a night on the town. Eventually you have to fit other things in. Then it keeps getting harder to remember what really happened and how it made you feel, so getting to the end of the report is a really hard.
Well, so I will try my best for another installment. But it might be slightly faded.
The night in question was however one of the most memorable of any vacation.
Earlier someone had predicted: “Rain will fall.”and so it had. It was a quick shower that dumped a half an inch of water in minutes. The wild life had an instantaneous response to the event. The birds seemed to sing louder and there was more of them. Swifts darted through the air in swarms so big, they looked like a cloud of insects in the sky. Everywhere life seemed to be teaming with activity and excitement.
When the short showers, that had sprayed the balcony every few minutes, grew less frequent, we hurried over to the bar. The bartender Vernon, was a tall guy with serious skills. We tried out the Dirty Bananas and observed the beautiful sunset.
The rain began to pour again during dinner. It's easy to forget the time on vacation , where it seems less of a real institution than on a working day. With only five minutes left before we were supposed to be at the English Rose, we stormed into the lobby to ask to have a cab called.
Two minutes later we meet cab driver Tall Man, as he pulls up in his van to pick us up. He never heard of the English rose before, so we scanned the side of the road in the half dark evening light, looking for a familiar fence as we speed down Norman-Manley. Finally the familiar vegetarian restaurant next door comes into view.
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Our British friends are already on sight. Big hello's, hugs and ado. We are also introduced to a new member of our posse, an elderly British farmer, who as I later learn, has traveled the world more than anyone I know - mostly in pursuit of romantic services, he proclaimed, with some pride in his libido.
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The music is good (still from the stereo) and the beers are tasty. The rain is still off and on and so we shuffle back and forth from the outdoor tables to the crowded interior of the shack. Greeny fidgets with a cell-phone and keeps running to the street to peer southwards. “My band members come soon. They play at Ricks Cafe. They will be here soon! They won't let me down”, he ensures us, then he sticks a hand out and gives a worried look to the sky. One of his steel drums are outside under a tarp, the other one is sheltered in the shack.
We are all eager to see Ikey at this point, mostly because he had found a firm place in our hearts, when we first met him. But Daisy had also wanted to buy a Bob Marley shirt from him. She knew he had to advance the money to get it for her and the whole day it had weighed on her conscience. So we asked Greeny to get him.
Oh what a joy when he came around the corner. We hugged and pointed at the sky and said: 'Oh what a night!!' and 'How beautiful!' and such. He had been the middle of cooking dinner so he asked us back to his house.
It was really dark by now. Ikey walked ahead of us dramatically kicking every stone or stick out of the way turning around every few feet making sure no-one had tripped.
His shack has no lock, just a few bricks with wooden boards across standing in for a staircase. Inside is not much to protect. Basically a sink, a fridge, a wooden crate for a seat, a stove and a few mostly empty shelves. There is a photo in a frames, but this man is certainly not burden down by earthly possessions.
From behind a curtain sectioning off an area for storage, he pulled out two really tasteful and well designed Bob Marley shirts to choose from. The image on the front is in Color, the one in the back black and white.
Daisy was ecstatic and chose one immediately. She handed Ikey quite a bit more than he had ask for the merchandise, which made Ikey look extremely concerned. So he disappeared behind his curtain again and reappeared with three beautiful necklaces, that looked outside our price range.
“Which one do you like?”, he asked. Daisy let them nervously glide through her hands but can't make up her mind. Finally Ikey says: “This is the best one.” He separates a beautiful green gem necklace from the bunch and holds it to her neck. “This is my present for you! No money, please don't give me more money!” Daisy tries to protest, but to no avail. Damn it is really hard to do something for Ikey without him doing something back for you right away.
Ikeys stew was beginning to rattle the lid and we could see he was eager to get back to his cooking, without an audience. So we thank him and he promises to join us later.
Outside the Britts are in a jolly mood, but almost ready to leave. Finally a car pulled up and Greeny let out a deep sigh. “See, I told you they would come!”
A seriously exhausted looking bass player, drummer and guitarist exit the vehicle, dragging out a whole truck load of equipment with them. The rain is graciously letting up in time. The new arrivals take a smoke-break and a beer first, before they set up the whole big jumble of equipment.
As they were setting up behind him, while the slightest drizzle was still falling from the sky, Greeny's drum sticks tentatively tried out the steel. It sounded somewhat out of tune, but as the sounds mixed and began to melt together - joined by first the snare and bass drum, then by the bass and finally the guitar - tuning no longer seemed to have any meaning. Greeny's touch was so precise, his control over the instrument so fantastic, that he pulled at your soul with the rising and falling of the notes of this first slow tempo song.
http://i1181.photobucket.com/albums/...eeniedrums.jpg
The tiny crowed applauded, me up front with special enthusiasm. The band did not wait for the crowds reaction to taper and transitioned straight in to the next hi-tempo number. I am not sure which song it was. I heard it before and it wasn't reggae either, but rather a hippie-era Rock song. I was amazed at the range of styles these four guys with only half their equipment could tickle out of their instruments.
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Behind the wire mesh fence, a few people who had been on their way down Norman-Manley stopped, and peer in through the wire, amazed at the unexpected on-goings. One by one they dared to round the fence and our little crowd at the English Rose was slowly growing in number.
Ikey too seemed to have finished with his stew and appeared from the dark backyard, dancing and JB in hand.
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The new additions to our group included two guys from Germany, Andreas and Klaus. Daisy waved me over, excited to have produced some fellow Country men of mine.
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This is a typical situation and a probably already a well known fact, yet to advise all readers: It can be generalized that the one thing, that is least exciting to a German abroad …. is another German! We already know each other and the reason that we are not in Germany is to escape our own boring stink.:p So while you are free to introduce any German to any other German with out having to expect a horrible disaster, you should also not expect too much excitement from the encounter either.
These guys were really sweet though. They seemed to have taken a very off-road approach to their Jamaica travel and had interesting stories to tell, so it was not altogether unpleasant.
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A friendly Jamaican man and his young daughter had also joined us. The father was going from person to person showing his kid asking everyone, if she wasn't the prettiest thing in the world. First I was a little put off by that, but it really seemed utterly harmless, so I finally took it at face value. He was just genuinely a proud father!
http://i1181.photobucket.com/albums/...erdaughter.jpg
Daisy in the meantime was running around showing everyone the T-shirt she had bought from Ikey. At that Ikey pulled me away from the crowd and pointed to her. He had tears in his eyes as he pointed out:”Look! She is helping me. She is trying for others to buy my T-shirts! One-Love man, One-Love!” He was buzzed from his JB which intensifies emotions, none-the-less I was really touched by how small a gesture, which could be interpreted in more than one way, could stir him so deeply.
The crowd grew constantly or rather, it was a coming and going. Two ladies from Belgium where in a deep discussion with Daisy when I found her again. Next to them was a young Jamaican fellow dressed in the latest fashion and laden with a golden chain. He was short but very handsome and gave off an air of someone you ought to pay attention to.
He zoned in on the Belgium girls, particularly the blond one, who towered above him by a good two heads. They made a funny picture together and his flirtatious advances were so exaggerated that they were obviously full of jest. The girl, flattered at the advance and the three or four proposals for marriage, took it semi-serious and was not 100% sure how to react. So she flung questions at him like: “Who will bring home the bacon?”, “Who will take care of the kids” or “Will you be the one taking out the garbage?” which he answered with the most comical slew of responses, indicating that his job was to make her happy in bed and that's that.
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Later he told me that really he was working very very hard in several jobs and considered his diverse talents, ranging from plumber to sous-chef, as his greatest assets over his libido. He was also far older than any of us had guessed, which he proved by producing his picture ID. He was also networking like a whirlwind. Unfortunately I lost the piece of paper with his cousins phone-number, through which I was to contact him until he had more suitable means of communication. There are so many reason to come back to Negril. :)
The whole time Greeny and his friends had been playing. Several times Greeny's ability to create crescendos and control the volume and character of the notes pounded out of the two steel barrels had amazed me so much, that I stopped mid-sentence to listen.
Finally it was over. The band and the Britts were tired. The Germans had to get up early the next morning to meet with some Rasta-Man in the mountains. So we sipped our last beers and said our good-byes. We hugged Greeny and Ikey tightly. It was an amazing feeling of connection that had formed in our two encounters time. If we lived in Negril, I have no doubt, we would be the best of friends.
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Daisy and Greeny
Despite the dulling effect of the alcohol it really hurt, when we turned around the corner and began to march down Norman Manley boulevard.
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We sadly left our British friends at our old abode. Daisy by this time had a solid second wind under her wings and pulled me towards the crowded entrance of Alfreds. Cigarette vendors and cab driver immediately swarmed in on us, again indicating that this must be the place to be. Despite us obviously having already arrived at our destination they would not let up and offered to drive us to our Hotel for free...no idea how that makes sense???
Finally we reached a heavy iron gate, massive enough to protect a prison or Langley. To aggravate concern the cashier was sitting behind a massive window of bullet proof glass.
When we handed over our ten dollars cover charge and passed beyond the fence, with the cab drivers and cigarette vendors reaching through the bars of the fence as if to grab us, I felt like I was crossing the border between East Germany to West Germany. What's up with that? ...Maybe I was just very drunk.
50 yards further, passed several buildings containing lavatories and stuff, Alfred was pumping with bright light and grinding bodies. An amazing amalgamation of people from all over the world was pooled together here. Styles ranged from soulful-hippie to Jersey shore tough guys. Conservatively dressed people, clad as if they just hopped off a luxury cruise liner, mingled with couples, that would would have won any Pimps and Ho's costume competition in the attire presented.
The large stage with a singer is raised from the beach. Over the surrounding fence one could see cigarette vendors balancing on what-ever it was they used to prop themselves up over the obstacle. Clear bags on their heads showed their merchandise and they kept haphazardly waving at people to come over, somewhat like half animated anemones in the current, obviously tired from a long days work already. One of the vendors had flickering christmas lights attached to his bag of cigarettes. He emerged slowly over the fence as though he was a floating alien spaceship beckoning smokers to come to him.
We stripped our shoes off our feet and threw them on the pile next to the stage, trusting they could be found again. When the next song came on, it was Berres Hammond “I feel Good”. We looked at each other in disbelief. Then the urge to swing the hips became irresistible. We slowly approached each other and finally fell into a melted oneness to the sound of the music. Everything else disappeared and I can say with some confidence that I was the most contented and happy human being on this planet at that moment. It was like getting married all over again. I hope she felt the same :).
“I feel good” was the last song in the bands set. The DJ put on some horrific dance-floor-techno and the dancing crowd moved all at once towards the bar. Only the Jersey-shore looking dudes and dudettes found this the new music more enticing and replaced the dancers on the beach with a grunting, fist-pumping and mechanically grinding mob.
At the bar, two bartenders strained to fill the orders. A white-haired lady with a serious expression, who appeared have been installed as a human register, taking down every transaction in a large ledger, was making change for the servers. We ordered two red stripes, whipping out our funds save the cab fair and sat down at a table on the beach.
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To the left of us a group of morbidly overweight girls were hitting on a muscular Jamaican. The the central girls seat of her jeans read “booty” while the section of her shirt covering her breasts proclaimed “delicious”. While she ground the air in front of his face, her girlfriends where cheering the poor man on to “Slap that Booty!”, which he did a few times with some bewilderment more then enthusiasm.
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Lacking funds for another beer we finally called it a night and made for the exit.
On the way out a nice young fellow offered us his taxi service, which we unwittingly excepted.
Once we passed the gate we realized our mistake, as the cab drivers from earlier swarmed all around us. The situation got heated and there was a lot of yelling and botheration. Especially the guy who had offered to drive us for free earlier was getting aggravated and claimed that we had promised to be his patrons (for free at that). The whole scene didn't make any sense and we were very happy to finally managed to squeeze by and into the SUV of the our young cab driver, who said in disbelief: “That ridiculous man acts, as if you married to him.”
IN minutes we were at the CCLP and happily passed by the security guard to our room.
The fun night did not end here, we went back out.. but It's getting late. I will leave that for another night to write about.
Love! Thanks for still reading.
And Sweetness, I heard you are going for your next reach very soon. You know what to do!: Have an Amazing time and if you visit the English Rose, Please Get us Greeny's mailing address :).
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good stuff. I can so picture that scene in front of Alfreds ..... how many more days at CoCo at this point?
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Thanks!
2 more days at the CCLP to go! believe it or not, We're almost finished with our trip report! :)
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Alfreds!!! Many years ago we stayed at Alfreds, in the room next to the stage that faces the beach through the wooden fencing. The story is too long to tell on this wonderful trip report, but enough to say that the first night the band started up, everything in our room vibrated that much, we had to move the breakables onto the bed before we went out. The only way we could talk to each other was to put mouth to ear and scream!!!! We only made it four nights and had to re-locate, but the memory lingers. Loving your work Hubby-man, there is as much colour in your word as there is in your photo's.
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Excellent! once again, Hubbyman. I love your words...especially "botheration" Describes that situation at Alfreds perfectly.
I know it's hard to keep the inspiration to write this long after your trip, and it is truly appreciated.
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Really great stuff...8 days and a wake up until Coco La Palm...I can't wait!
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Thanks Hubby-man!
Even after your disclaimer of time, reality of life and faded memories, your report picked me right back up and I felt as if no time had even passed since the last installment!
We are here, no worries mon.....take your time
We will still love every minute of your words, stories, pictures and emotions
It just amazes me how you capture exactly what I remember some of these experiences being like for me my first trip and that was 12 years ago!
Thanks as always for sharing this with us!
