Clarity, Markus and Jamar in Negril – Nov 2011 Trip Report: Day 1-3

[Hubby-man]

Oh, Wow. Now that Daisy got you all crying I am not so sure how to follow up. So this will be the boring interlude, for everyone to calm their feelings.

It is really quite amazing how your comments become part of this report and make it into much more than it would be without that. Thank you all for extremely insightful comments and contributions. It seems as if we are all together on a mystical trip, full of serendipity, karmic events and most importantly awareness that goes beyond the surface.

You show such incredible kindness when you all re-live this journey with us. I can imagine those offices in my minds eye, where you read with open hearts and some of you even cry. Reading your responses I can feel your presence and the magic net that connects us becomes visible and incredibly real.

So, thank you, Rob, for providing this forum! It's NOT just another website.


Mayfield Falls

With all the new developments, time had marched cruelly onward and it was getting to the point where, we had to go now or never. Jamar had spotted Chicken on the beach earlier. If anyone was going to get us there with such short notice, it was him (That is probably not true, but it sounds great!).

So we split up. Me and Jamar were to negotiate the fee, while Daisy threw the most necessary items into a bag.

***

Chicken was lounging on a picnic table on the beach smoking with his buddies, when two crazy eyed tourists ran up to him through the beach sand, coming to a stop three feet in front of him, panting and doubled over.

“Mayfield Falls”, they panted in unison. “Mayfield...” , -panting- “...fa...” -panting- “Mayfield Falls, can you take us?”

Chicken stared with glazed over eyes. He seemed to be on his day off, but slowly came to and realized there was business being offered.

Chicken: ”Ah, ...Ya mon! You wanna go to Mayfield Falls?”

The crazed tourists:” Yes, Yes!!! Can you take us?”

Chicken: “At this hour, Mon? They will be closed when we get there. Last tour is at 4 PM. If no one is there they will close early.”

The tourists doubled over again, panting and coursing. They started discussing their options while down in a huddle.

In the meantime Chicken had pulled out his phone and was talking to someone in thick patois. “Ya Mon, OK Mon.”

When he hung up, he grinned: “OK Mon!”

The tourists: “OK, thanks, Chicken, we'll see you tomorrow then....”

Chicken: “No Mon, I just talked to my buddy. He will be there. He will be your guide. Yes, We can go!”

The Tourists: “We'll meet you at the lobby in 15”.

***

Daisy was waiting for us with our bags packed and we were on the road in under ten minutes. Jamar called shot gun as always, while we arranged our ridiculously large collection of half broken snap-shot cameras in the backseat, ready to document every angle of the adventure.



Chicken was talkative, which we all enjoyed. He immediately picked up the patois lesson where we left off. The word he wanted us to learn most urgently was “bad”.

Chicken: “Ya Mon, when something is really good, you say 'that's baaad, mon!'. See bad means good! So when someone says: You look baaad, Mon! He means you look very coooool.”, and he chuckled his low rolling laugh. “Ya mon, your patois is gonna be baaad!”

We took the left turn at the Downtown Negril round-about, towards Savannah la Mar, charting undiscovered territory.





Chicken was getting more excited with every mile, because this was home-territory to him. He pointed out all the names of the villages and towns to the side: Cheffield, New Hope, Little London and Big Bridge are a few I remember. He proudly pointed out that Savannah la Mar was the capitol of Westmoreland while he drove more than once on the wrong side of the road to avoid the omnipresent sugar cane vending-carts, that lined the sidewalks of the city.

His excitement reached a peak when we turned the corner into a small side road in Amityville (which is not even on google maps).

“This is my hometown, Mon!” he said after stopping at a little bar, where several elderly men were enjoying a midday drink. The shack was barely big enough for all of us to cram in. The walls were lined with posters with girls in skimpy soccer uniforms and a heated discussion about some sports subject, probably cricket, was underway. Daisy, Jamar and I ordered a round, while Chicken was caught up with the girl behind the bar.

Right after Amityville the road was slimming to a dirt path and sugar cane brushed up against the doors on both sides. Chicken car was creaking and sighing like an old ship in a storm. I suspect the boot on his suspension had a leak and the whole wheel mount was screaming for lubrication with each pothole. (“Car Talk”, lol). Progress was slow, as Chicken did not want to hear a thing about what was wrong with his car, instead he leaned back, stuck the elbow out of the window lit a cigarette and patiently moved the vehicle at a speed of approximately 3 miles per hour through the punishing obstacle course.

The road opened up again at the next crossing, where a semi-paved road snaked up a steep forested hill. As the sugar cane, that had curved over the roof, gave way, and the view expanded around the car, I swallowed in awe.