Dutty Wata
Yesterday afternoon, just after posting how lovely the sea was, I walked down to the shore and stopped cold, right on the beach. I literally did a double take at the water. I took my sunglasses off and checked it again because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The sea was the colour of dark tea. As far as the eye could see.
I stood there stunned for a minute, trying to figure out what had happened. Instead of the clear emerald waters that are the norm here, the waves that were breaking on the sand were muddy brown.
I walked over to the nearest vendor and asked him what had happened. He said that it was water from the river. I was standing in front of the Donkey Races, which is a long, long way from the mouth of the river in town.
I caught up to one of my crew and he said that it had happened about 30 minutes prior. A clear brown line in the water had crept down the shore at about walking speed. We talked it over and figured that the sand-berm at the mouth of the river, which had prevented boatmen from exiting the river, had been breached by the water in the river that had built up as a result of the torrential late afternoon rains that Negril had been experiencing over the last six days. When the berm washed away all the tannin-stained water pooled up in the river suddenly flooded out into Long Bay.
Very weird. It was a beautiful day but nobody was in the water.
Several hours later the water had already begun to clear up.
Last night we dined on pizza then cruised a few beach bars and ended up at Sun Beach. There was a group there that were staying at Rhodes Hall on a yoga retreat. To the delight of the boyz in the crew, the yoga group consisted primarily of physically fit and flexible young women.
Here, from my parochial Canadian point of view, was the best line of the night. We were sitting in a beach restaurant, all thirteen of us, waiting for our pizzas to come out of the kitchen. It was around 9:00pm. Sideshow, our newbie, had been cautioned as to where and when he lit up; he’d been advised to ask if he was unsure. The waitress was walking by and he asked her, “Hey, is it okay if I smoke the ganj here?”
The waitress, didn’t break stride, she nodded and said, “Yah, mon. I’ll bring you an ashtray.”
Think about it. In many ways Jamaica, as a developing country, has a long way to go to get to Canadian/American standards; infrastructure and government institutions, for example. But in terms of a rational attitude towards the consumption of a natural herb, they are a decade ahead.
Originally Posted by Kahuna3
I thought Weedeye was 21 now?
