Paradox in Paradise

We head out for Bentleys. We had noticed the sign when we were walking up the cliffs this morning and had Percy point it out on the way back to HSH this afternoon. I knew to turn at No Limits, which was hopping and head up the road. I remember a story about someone asking a taxi to drop them off at Bentleys and being taken to the wrong restaurant. We pass the wrong restaurant. As we approach Bentleys a man is coming down the stairs. Before we can really ask he is saying “Yah, mon, this is the place, go on up, you gonna enjoy this!” We get up to the deck and there is Bentley talking with a couple of young girls. They turn to us with very big smiles, “Hello!” “Are you Bentley?” we ask. “Yah, mon, that’s me, Bentley!” I am so happy, “We came for crab cakes!” “I’m going to cook you some crab cakes!” says Bentley and he starts to move. I don’t think he really stopped moving until he sat down with us at dinner much later.

He goes into his bit which I don’t want to repeat entirely cause it’s his and it’s great. Some of my favorite phrases, which get repeated every now and then – “I’m going to cook for you” if he does, you’re lucky. Once he starts this is replaced by “I’m cooking for you.” “Five things” which is the number of things you’ll get on you’re plate if you order the crab cakes, all awesome. “You need another beer?” cause you will, and if you understand where you are and what you’re doing and who you’re with you won’t care if it’s the third or fourth or fifth time he’s asked since he started cooking for YOU.

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A big stocky guy with a clean shaven head shows up to a raucous greeting from Bentley. He knows I am going to write something up but I didn’t ask his name so for the sake of discretion I’m just going to call him ScubaPro. Bentley is very upset that ScubaPro didn’t call him earlier, he said he would. They banter back and forth and the make good is that ScubaPro has to cook dinner for Bentley. Turns out ScubaPro is boarding with Bentley. He gets underway butchering a chicken for himself and Bentley. The Barrel gets it’s fire going.

We’re just a few slugs into our first Stripe lights – “Refreshing, light, You can drink a lot of them!” is Bentleys selling point – When Sweetie Pie scoots her seat and knocks over her beer and has most of it end up in her lap. Bentley and ScubaPro laugh when they see it. “A lot of beers get spilled at that table!” they say.

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We talk to ScubaPro as he is preparing the fire. He is a very high end diver, the toughest dive work out there. Zero visibility stuff. I comment on the mental focus and toughness required for that kind of work, the need to keep your spatial awareness in a world with no physical cues. He digs that, says most people don’t get that at all and if they do it’s not until they’ve known him for awhile. There is some serious mutual effective flattery going on.

ScubaPro is recounting his day to us and Bentley. He finished on the beach with a massage and a pedicure. We ask about the massage as we had checked out the spa at Rockhouse today. “I went to one of those dollar a minute ladies on the beach,” he says. We laugh and I say, “I don’t think ours would be as fun as yours,” thinking he’s speaking in euphemism. He isn’t, there are dollar a minute masseuses on the beach. Sweetie Pie says, “You’re pretty unusual, most guys wouldn’t admit to getting a pedicure.” I can’t help it, I’m thinking of Fabs at that very moment. ScubaPro shrugs his shoulders and we move on.

Another young man comes up the steps, a little taller, dark haired and thinner. He sits down and starts talking with Bentley and ScubaPro. He is boarding with Bentley also, been here for a couple of weeks. He’s known Bentley for a couple of years now, been down multiple times after a disability. The talkabout continues.

We talk about how things are going for Bentley. I say, “You’re sorta famous on parts of the internet.” “Yah, mon,” Bentley beams, “ I’m famous in places!” I tell him I found him on Negril.com, he wants details. “I’ve seen my picture on the computer,” he says. “Yeah, there’s good stories out there,” I reply. “Like what?” he wants to know. “Do you remember an attractive lady up here a couple of weeks ago who had too much cake?” Bentley and ScubaPro bust out laughing, “Oh Yeah, that was a wild night!” “Who posted THAT story?” Bentley asks. “The gentleman who was with her, I think.” Bentley looks a little quizzical as he puts it together. “Really? Yeah mon, I’m famous.”

We marvel at the crazy Rube Goldberg phone and power pole across the street. It’s got a wild post-modern industrial art quality to it. We decide the camera can’t possibly do it justice but also decide we will return with better gear.

In what seems like just exactly the right amount of time the food shows up. It is a plate to shame other plates. Everything is delicious. The cakes are perfect and the magic sauce is, ummm, well named. I don’t generally go overboard for sauces with a sweet tinge, but this is an exception. Pick your favorite over the top adjective – there you go. Forget about calories when you go to Bentley’s, he is tight with butter and your taste buds will thank him for that.

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After my first few bites I turn to Bentley in the kitchen, he’s cleaning up a little and ScubaPro is putting the finishing touches on their dinner, and I say, “I’m going to put a post up along the lines of ‘What the heck are you doing, go the heck to Bentleys!!’” but I’m a whole lot more profane. Bentley and ScubaPro bust out at this again. “See, I told you it’s going to happen,” Bentley says to ScubaPro. I sincerely hope so but it will be without my helpful thread, even the wild carded profanities were unacceptable.

I really don’t know how long we sit there, it is awhile. Bentley and ScubaPro eat their dinners, somehow ScubaPro has snuck a giant lobster onto the grill as well. He is moaning over it as we look over. He lifts up a fist sized chunk of tail meat. “Fresh from the sea today!” He smiles. Bentley’s Boarder says he’s wiped out and is going to catch a nap.

As we are sitting around shooting the breeze there comes a point when Bentley can't take his eyes off of Sweetie Pie. "You look like a movie star," He says in his sweetest patter. I smile because I can't disagree, "You got that right mon!"

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I ask Bentley if I can have a picture with him. He calls me into the kitchen. I am honored.

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We box up the leftovers and hope the kitchen is open when we get back to HSH as we do not have a refrigerator. In no particular hurry we find our way down the stairs telling Bentley we will be back. We head back down the lane. No Limits is even more hopping and things are starting to pick up over at PeeWees. We look at each other and turn right headed to Home Sweet Home.

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The kitchen is closed when we get back and we don’t see anyone about. Without a fridge we make a truly dogmanitarian sacrifice. Sorry, Bentley, tomorrow the street dogs of Negril will eat like kings.

Neither one of us has had a full nights sleep since Wednesday. We are feeling it. We wind down and are laying on the bed, Sweetie Pies head on my chest. “I have a poem for you Sweetie, do you want to let me up?” “No, Sweetie, I want you to stay right here where I’m close to your heart.” I reach up and turn off the light. We sleep the sleep of the justified.

:eek: what a fabulous story so far..you guys are just awesome together....very nice report!

Tuesday

Pre-dawn peeks through the open verandah doors this morning glimpse a cloudless sky. We rise and step out onto the balcony, not a cloud can be found. “Beach day, I think.” “Oh yeah!”

With little chance of a color show we decide to watch the sunrise from our verandah. We catch the first rays hitting the top of the pine near the reception office. The dingy grays of pre-dawn slowly fade, pierced by tropical brightness in spots as the angle of the sun rises. As Sweetie Pie admires the courtyard I grab the poem for last night. I recite to her:

Eros

A poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson

The sense of the world is short,
Long and various the report,
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it,
And how oft soe'er they've turned it,
'Tis not to be improved.

We head down to do some Tai Chi. We stop at the cliff edge on the lawn and look down at the platforms below. Sweetie Pie isn’t sure if they are big enough so we set up on the lawn. I’m not sure what species of grass the lawn is but it has that soft, luscious, mushy feel to it. There is a part of Tai Chi that involves sensing the transfer of energy through your body from the earth you stand upon. The sensation of connection through this patch of earth is unusual, but very pleasant and peaceful. We do a couple of sets of the first form. We finish and take note of our starting and stopping points. We look down on the platforms again. Tomorrow we will do Tai Chi on the decks!

We head back to the room and have a couple of oranges. Jamaican oranges are super sweet and seedless, we scarf them down. We prep for the beach. Guirigay runs with some serious sunblock. Sweetie Pie lotions up and slips into yet another beautiful outfit off the silver screens of yesteryear.

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We pack a shoulder bag and we’re off for coffee. Sweetie Pie gets her first real taste of the Pied Piper routine that will become part of our daily jaunt. We have the leftovers from Bentleys last night. The first Street dog we meet gets those and he is quickly joined by another. We head off quickly enough that they don’t track us down before we’re out of sight. The next dog, however, becomes a daily routine. Scar has been hurt bad at one point in his life as his newly given name attests. Sweetie Pie pulls a treat from the shoulder bag and Scar is in tow for the rest of our trip to coffee. As we come up to our coffee joint we pay a little more attention and figure out that we’re having coffee at Easy Rock which is also an Internet Café. Max is out front watering the roadside garden looking much more chipper than he did yesterday. He sees Scar in tow and Sweetie Pie tells him about her little program. “Somebody’s got to do it,” he says, “I’m glad it’s you ‘cause it wouldn’t be me.” The unlikely bond grows. “Coffee be ready in a little bit.”

We wander. The views from this sort of conjoined set of properties are excellent. A large patio between Easy Rock and the German Bar leads you to a smaller patio behind the PADI dive shop. This patio has a view to the west that could be shot a thousand times and still produce something new. The backs of the seaside business shacks lead to an old school waterside Jamaican home in front of some trees that separate the house from the ship style bar next door. We stare and swear we are bringing the rig next time. To the east you’re looking at Canoe and down the coast toward town. The beach is close enough that you can make out the properties closer to town.

These photos are not from this day but they show the views

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We head back into the Café and sit down at the bar. Max comes in from the back and as he’s walking toward me says, “I’m sorry to tell you mon, but we have a problem.” His tone catches me off guard, like we have a REAL PROBLEM. “Uh, what?” I ask. “You’ve gotta put your shirt on mon, the health inspector can stop in here anytime and he’ll give me all sorts of trouble!” He pulls a hairnet out of his pocket, “I even gotta wear THIS when I’m back here!” he says and snaps it over his head. I smile at the easily avoided conflict and put my shirt on as coffee is poured.

We finish off the bottle of rum cream, second coffees are downed with more conversation about the Beenie Man show tonight. Max’s phone is “Blowing up” with phone calls for tickets. I would love to go but don’t see Sweetie Pie being able to make it through the first song. “I could make it through the FIRST song!” insists Sweetie Pie with a smile.

We head out for the beach. We stop at the market at the circle again to get a couple more vitamin waters, sunblock and change some money. It’s early and the lady at the pharmacy says they don’t have enough to make the change but she’ll get it taken care of. Several bounces back and forth with the staff lead to someone going outside and coming in with a money changer! The money exchange goes back and forth between me, the clerk and the money changer. He tries to short me right in front of the clerk! He slips hundreds in the middle of the thousands as he counts it out. I say “No, No!” and the clerk jumps in. After three tries he gets it right, I think. Sweetie Pie looks at me and says, “What’s wrong? You’re making your face.” I tell her I’ll talk after we’re out of the store. As we cross the bridge toward the beach I stop and take a surety count. It’s Ok but he would have shorted me 1000 if I hadn’t paid attention. I clue Sweetie Pie in that I was very frustrated about having to deal with a money changer when I went to a business specifically to avoid a money changer hassle.

We head onto the beach at the park just past the craft market. We’re walking the water line and the soft lapping of the surf is rolling over our Keens. Sweetie Pie is wearing a shoe length black yoga skirt and it starts to get a little wet at the bottom. She tries to roll the skirt up a little but that doesn’t really keep it dry. We stop two or three times as she continues to roll it up. What started out as Rita Hayworth in Rio is devolving into Ma Kettle on Waikiki. “What? What?!?” Sweetie Pie asks as my smile widens. “You little pisser!” she exhorts as she smacks me while I giggle.

Shortly we pass a resort with a beach front shop. Hanging beachside are a number of barely there cover ups. Sweetie Pie turns in. She finds a sweet little sheer black handkerchief she can tie around her waist. “How much?” I ask. $12 US. The clerk goes back inside. While Sweetie Pie was browsing I had been talking to a couple of guys sitting in front of the shop. One is selling boat trips, the other, older gentleman just seems to be hanging out. He leans over to me, gives me the nudge and wink and says, “Bargain.” I laugh and when the clerk come backs I ask again and get the same answer. “How about 600?” A laugh. “800?” “That’s my cost!” she says. “900 then.” “950,” she says with a “Deal!” reply. The old gentleman is smiling and gives me a tap on the arm when she goes in to make change. I get the change and wait for the clerk to go back in the shop. I turn to the gentleman and say, “Have a great day, mon!” We rasta shake with the full on finger snap. I hand him the fifty. He smiles and nods.

We continue up the beach. We stop at Merrills II because I love the sea grapes right at the shoreline and I think it’s a good spot for us to leave the bag while we swim because it has decent security. Plus it’s hot and we are thirsty. 300j for a decent rum and ting but it’s ok, we’re going to swim. After our refreshment and relaxation we head into the water. I don’t particularly like the float lined swim area but it’s big enough to get out where you can’t touch bottom. We swim and splash and play. We come into shallower water and sea dance which is a blast and just plain sexy. If you get out to a depth where your shoulders are just above water while your knees are bent you can hold your lover floating in your arms like a baby. At this depth you can twist and turn, run and stop, spin and swoon forever at nearly no effort with you lady’s face, neck and bosom laid out for you like a gourmet platter. I highly recommend you try it.

After sun drying and reapplying sun block we head up the beach. We stop at Sunshine Bar and get ice cold Red Stripes for 150J. Ice cold. We sit on the picnic table and have a few. This place is run by the lady from the old For Real bar. Cheap beer, no hassling, great bar. We meet Kim and Kathy and have a nice conversation, they are long timers. You just meet the coolest people in Negril.

After a nice stay we continue up the beach until we hit the Boat Bar. We have a couple of Red Stripes and Earl Lockes is there playing his guitar. He plays a couple of songs for us and we dance. A couple of Rastas sitting on the picnic table out front chime in from time to time. It’s beautiful, Earl has a great voice. “Husband and Wife?” he asks. “No,” we answer. “Well this is a song for the love of your life,” he says and plays a truly moving song I’ve never heard before that is perfectly suited to his gilded voice. We dance like no one’s watching but when the song ends we notice that’s not the case. We tip him the 400J left from our bar bill and slip to the back of the bar.

As I’m chilling in the back of the bar with a sub the bartender comes scurrying back, gestures with her arm and says, “Toss it, throw it away!” In a moment the cops are walking by. They come up into the bar and look around. This is not like the old days…

Earl is out front and pulls out his bullhorn, “Come to Alfred’s Ocean Palace tonight…” and he riffs a great Power Radio pitch right there for tonight’s show. A fella sitting out front next door will have none of it and starts his own pitch when Earl is done. This goes back and forth a few times. Dueling bullhorns, Sweetie Pie and I just about fall out.

We head back up the beach and watch the officers pat down a couple of beach vendors. They meet up with a couple of other officers who are being rock starred by a group of young ladies. Poses and pictures abound. Sweetie Pie says, “They must only accept gorgeous men to the academy. It makes sense to me!” It does look a bit like a Mighty Quinn casting call. The officers don’t seem too inclined to continue patrolling the beach at this time and we leave them behind.

In the distance I see the round house at the waters edge and know we’re coming up to our desired minimum destination – Tree House. I tell Sweetie Pie about my previous experiences there, especially one of my all-time great meals with the ex dining feet away from the waves lapping at the shore. “I think we need to grab a bite to eat here!” says Sweetie Pie with a smile.

We get a nice table in the round house near the water. Our waitress comes over and introduces herself and her and Sweetie Pie get into a conversation over her name which is spelled the same as Sweetie Pies. “Not many people spell it that way,” says Sweetie Pie. “Well,” says the waitress sheepishly, “I actually spell it with an E but the manager here misspelled it!” Sweetie Pie laughs.

We have just a quarter jerk chicken and an order of saltfish fritters. It’s getting late and we have dinner at Rockhouse coming up. Good chicken, great fritters. I fall in love with saltfish and dumplings right there. They are way up high on my list of favorite things. I could, and before the week is out I do, make an entire meal of them. Delicious, hearty, stick with you drinking food and like so many of the incredible Jamaican foods, everybody’s is a little different.

There is a group of late forty-something ladies at the table next to us having a hoot of a time. Sweetie Pie is soaking up their vibe and says, “Jamaica would be a great place for a girl’s trip!” She starts talking about potential groups and itineraries. She is hooked and it makes me smile.

Sweetie Pie with an E is a great waitress. When the bill comes I give her more than enough to cover it and my last 1000J which I ask to have broken into a 500J and 5 100J. I tell Sweetie Pie I want to leave a nice tip – the 500J and the 100’s will get us home in route taxi’s if we can’t negotiate a ride at the gate. As I’m telling her this I hear the bartender get seriously bent out of shape with our waitress. I have a good ear and can follow Patois pretty well. He doesn’t like making change and especially doesn’t like me asking for change above and beyond the order. That is me being kind to the bartender. He doesn’t let up. Our waitress walks up front to reception I’m guessing. Another waitress who overheard me talking to Sweetie Pie goes over to the bar and tells the bartender we need the change for a taxi and tip. That’s how loud and obnoxious the bartender was. He sort of lets up. We tip our waitress close to 30% in total, she was great, the food was great, the location was great - but we leave on a downer. Don’t think I’ll go back, I know it’s a small thing but it’s stuck, even now, weeks later. I’ll be leaving those memories in the dustbin.

On the way out I’m asked if I need a taxi. I’m half inclined to say no and just flag down a red plate on the road but I say, “500 to Home Sweet Home?” “Sure Mon,” he says and we jump in. I’m busted, $100 US on the beach in about 5 hours. We tell the cabbie we walked from HSH this morning. “That’s a good walk,” he says, “Five miles on the road.”

We get back and grab about an hour nap before we need to get ready for Rockhouse. Sweetie Pie gets into her serious primp mode, which means she’ll need about 20 minutes to get ready. You gotta love a low maintenance, high gloss, natural beauty!

We walk down to the front gate just before a quarter to five and the van is there waiting. Minutes later we’re at the entrance to Rockhouse. As we walk into the bar Chef is at a table by the railing with a notebook and he’s involved in a lengthy lecture to the ENTIRE staff about what initially seems to be tonight’s menu. I have family in the restaurant business so I find this fascinating. All good chefs do this nightly with their staff and it feels a little bit like getting to peer behind the curtain. The bartender says it will be just a little bit, would we like a drink. Rum and Tings! We notice the lady who took our reservation yesterday and exchange smiles and nods. She grabs the reservation book and walks over to another well dressed gentleman. They look at the reservation book and then up at us. The well dressed gentleman walks over.

He introduces himself as the manager and asks, “Home Sweet Home?” It is funny to be addressed as your place of residence. “Yes” “I need to inform you that there will be a photo shoot on the premises this evening and you may be included in it, I hope that’s not a problem.” “Well no, I don’t think so, what’s it for? Promotional material?” No, it turns out there is a Yoga convention in Montego Bay this week and a large group has arranged a special table with Chef Broderick. It’s going to be very ornate on a specially set table on the sea deck in the cove below the Rock Table. Dessert is going to be delivered from the sea via a boat. Yoga magazine is going to shoot the whole thing. Sounds interesting.

“So your table very likely will show up in some photos, is that OK?” “No problem, who wouldn’t want this lovely lady in their magazine?” I ask, “She should be on the cover!” “She IS gorgeous,” he says and then he makes my day, “But don’t sell yourself short, mon, you’re not too bad yourself.” He pauses briefly for effect, “Not too bad at all, mon.” WTF!! These freakin’ Jamaicans! I’m going to school on these F'ers, they are masters of the natural compliment!

He says it will be a little bit before our table is ready, please enjoy the resort and they will come get us. Sweetie Pie is concerned that we may have to eat quickly if there is a seating after us. “I think the table is ours for the night, Sweetie,” I say. It is.

We wander the resort and take some pictures.

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We sit in the lobby for a little while and eventually head out to the Rock Table. The special table is being set up below, Chef is overseeing every detail.

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We order dinner – Chicken Corn Soup, Crab Salad, Calamari and Old Symting. A bottle of Chardonnay to wash it all down. The view from the Rock Table is great but you can’t see the sunset from the table. You need to go to the rail to see it. I check every so often and we snap some pics.

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The food is very good and the presentation is top notch. Old Symting is like a Jamaican Bouillabaisse. Crab, lobster, squid and other seafood in a gently spiced broth. The service was very good with my only knock being the soup and appetizer were brought out together. We thoroughly enjoy the dinner and it is very romantic. Sometime during dinner a boat pulls up to the sea deck in what we figure is a dry run for the dessert delivery. It skulks away.

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