Rumpolephoreskin's Existential Wanderings in and Around Negril

[Crusher]

I am with you Rum. You are the only person who can give your life meaning. If you rely on others to provide that for you, you will always be chasing the impossible. Knowing yourself and what truly makes you happy should be a goal for everyone.

[NEGRILJAIL]

Just my 2 measly cents Rum ... I agree with Braz-eye ..much better conversation with a few cocktails .. just saying ..maybe Braz-eye could become the next philosopher-musician ..

[irie luv]

Hard to see how "life does'nt revolve around me" has anything to do with existentialism?? Or why doing "what is good for you or doing what you want" is negative? There is nothing wrong with placing high importance on your own values and what you think is best for you. I guess it can be negative if what you want is neglecting yourself and your family...but I do not think that it what was meant by existentialism. I think most people on this board want what is best for them as well as their loved ones so they live their lives accordingling or to the best of their ability to make that happen.I am kind of shocked that anyone can find a morsel of negativity and create backlash on such a positive thread...oh well, if Rum can get backlash on this love story and the theory of living your life to the fullest, I know I will have to keep my TR off line Thanks Rum for the post, glad you were welcomed by the national bird !

[Rum-polephoreskin]

Yup Negriljail, let's get back to cocktails.

Day 2 Cont. . . .

Day 2 early Morning at Xtabi:



Speaking of records, Gerryg123 (aka Marathon Man) drifted through Xtabi right after our swim. This was our first meeting and I recognized him instantly from his self portraits. He does indeed resemble a tall Van Morrison (with hair Van Morrison can only reminisce about). I introduced Mrs. Peel and myself. Gerry confided he had been pursuing the gold medal the night before and wasn't quite 100%. He drifted away like a morning zephyr. Scooter safe Gerry!

Christine told us (@ Just Natural) that we'd been blessed by a very positive portent and said we were best not to reveal it. So I won't but it was a happy thought. Mrs. Peel had enjoyed her first Jamaican breakfast and commented," I never would have guessed the ackee wasn't eggs." Mrs. Peel is a great cook herself and she loves to eat. I thought visiting locally owned eating establishments would be a great way to introduce her to the joys of Negril. We varied from this practice only four times in the ten days we were there (not counting airport food on the last day - delay).

At some point in the afternoon we taxied to beach. We started ay Sunbeach with the plan of making our way to Roots. This was Mrs. Peel's first time on the beach. Sand gravity being what it is we never made it Roots, close but no cigar store.

There was a pair of sweet young women tending bar @ Sunbeach, Sophia and Alissia (pronounced with an s sound vs an sh sound). Alissia bought some peanuts from a beach vendor. She sat down at the end of the bar, to my right, and began eating them. I asked her if they were salted?

She said yes and offered me some. I love salted peanuts when I drink beer. These peanuts had a paper thin, with crispy shells and were fresh roasted. Excellent! Allissia was kind enough to track the vendor down and we bought two more packs. Mrs. Peel had this verdict: "These make our peanuts [U.S.] take like crap." She then tied into the peanuts, eating shell and all.

We stayed at Sunbeach through the sunset.




A man sitting in one of the hanging chairs was kind enough let Mrs. Peel have it for a photo op.



We pushed down the beach shortly after sunset.

Two men handed us a flyer as we were passing the Boat Bar, that was serendipitous because it was on my list of places to take Mrs. Peel. Fadia (long A) was bar-tending. Fadia saw a bracket Mrs. Peel uses to make her bra straps line up with her top's straps (Ladies/Fashionistas do you know what I'm talking about?). Fadia was impressed with this bracket which led to some girl talk.

If you are unfamiliar with the Boat Bar it's worth a stop. The bar is constructed from the bow of a grounded boat pointing out to sea. Where the sides of the boat would be is the bar and seating. Evening descended and I had secret dinner plans so we headed "home". We stopped on the way at The Country Western Bar for a Jenny's special cake.

[Delta]

Rum loving your story!!! I know what bracket you speak of LOL

Irie: I feel you; which is why I probably would never do one. LOL

[Rum-polephoreskin]

This next part could be a little tricky so I'd like to preface it by stressing that Mrs. Peel is a very straight arrow. She was a girl scout until her sophomore year of high school. She sits on an international educational board. A few years back she was recognized as the outstanding woman in state's government (that year). Mrs. Peel colors inside the lines except when I'm being a bad influence. Being a bad influence on her is an uphill struggle too, but I believe I'm the man for the job.

For our first surprise dinner out I got the Jenny cake for our appetizer. We had both read about the cakes and I assumed Mrs. Peel shared my respect for the cakes potency. Hoho!


As she told me later when I was suffering guilt after the fact," Brownies have never affected me. I didn't think the cake would either. I was being a smart a$$." That did relieve my guilt.

It started like this, I bit off a third of the cake or less. Before I got in the shower I handed the cake to Mrs. Peel. When I got out of the shower I said can I have another bite. Mrs. Peel said," I ate it."

"You're kidding."

"No big deal."

"OK . . ."

Dinner that night was going to be Bentley's Crab Shack. Bentley's is located on Pee Wee Lane in the west end (in a Negril neighborhood). Our driver (not Alfred) dropped us off at the wrong restaurant (on Pee Wee Lane!!!!). There are only two. Oh well.

The people at TJ's (?) were very kind after they figured out our driver's mistake.

"We don't have crab cakes."

"Isn't this Bentley's?"

Laughter . . . "No mon." The waitress walked us out to the road and pointed up the hill to Bentley's. Bentley's Crab Shack is on a second floor deck. It's decorated with rope lights and is definitely the most festive looking place on the street. Bentley seemed real excited that we were there. His kitchen area is set up behind a bar like structure on the deck, so for all intents and purposes Bentley is preparing the meal before your eyes.

It was 9:30 o'clock when we got there (more on that later). There was a biker-looking dude from Illinois, with a shaved head, hanging around and roughly teasing Bentley. There was Bentley's (self proclaimed) brother Congo (he looked nothing like Bentley in body or face) and a young woman. Otherwise it was Mrs. Peel and I dining alone.

We ordered the crab cakes. Bentley began to work his magic. We also ordered fruit punches sans alcohol (remember my electrolyte fixation?- Although Mrs. Peel has requested I drop electrolyte talk from the report, "Romance not electrolytes").

Mrs. Peel looked up from her fruit punch and said, "I feel kind of funny."

"Can you tell me about that?"

She said, "Kind of floaty."

"Lucky", said with a Napoleon Dynamite emphasis.

"No I feel funny. Like I'm in my chair but above it too."

"Try to go with that. Don't let it throw you. You're safe. I'll take care of you."

Mrs. Peel can be quite delicate at times. I had a good idea where this was going and it turned out I was right. I switched into "Acid-Rescue" mode (pardon the use of an old 60's term but it fits) and tried to talk her down. The tough guy from Illinois (he turned out to be a rough but good hearted young dude) came over to our table to ask if we minded him sparking a bong. He got the drift of what was going on and joined the rescue party.

"Think happy thoughts", I remember him saying.

Mrs. Peel, God bless her, was trying her best to steel herself. Rather than falling out from too much cake - like a lot of folks report - Mrs. Peel was trapped in a bout of self induced paranoia and for her, this was unfamiliar ground.

I asked Bentley for some bread, after explaining our crisis. My thinking was some carbs might get her back on the ground. Unfortunately she was too geeked up to actually eat it. Alfred told me a day or two later, sweet syrup is a quick fix for this particular island malady, "Drink some right down, follow with a glass of water." The mishap got to Bentley but he joined the rescue mission, offering kind words.

Our surprise dinner was not to be. Bentley served us heaping plates of steaming island food. The crab cakes were covered with a thin brown sauce and appeared to be works of culinary genius. I was stunned by the visual beauty of the feast. Mrs. Peel had a different take: "I can't eat this."

Mrs. Peel looked up at me sadly, " I don't want to ruin the night." She said this earnestly, without any self pity and that got to me.

I told her (in all honesty) my night isn't ruined. I put some time into trying to convince her of this - bless her heart. Bentley came over to the table about then and said, " Come on now you don't want to ruin your night." He was trying to help.

I got about half way through my first crab cake ( 2nd best entree I had in Jamaica - just delicious) when Mrs. Peel said, " I have to go. I think I'm going to be sick." I must defend her here, between freaking out and getting sick she was fighting the good fight, trying to tough it out.

Check the eyes (also note the side of bread uneaten to her right):


Unlike Mrs. Peel I am experienced (in a Jimi Hendrix kind of way) enough to understand what she was going through and appreciate the anxiety she was experiencing but I also knew it was transitory, it would pass like a cloud going over the face of the moon.

I played my man card: "Baby could you try to hang on until I finish my other crab cake?" The food was that good.


"I'm going to be sick", became her sotto voce mantra. I get it. Time to be gallant, time to put down the fork. "Bentley I'm sorry but we're going to have to leave. Can you box this (her plate) for us?" He did an excellent job on the doggy bag, no skimping - thanks mon!!! "And can you get us a taxi . . . quick?"

Bentley was a champ. There was no "soon come". He sprang into action. His nephew was a route driver and arrived before Bentley got off the phone.

I helped Mrs. Peel out of the cab and back to our cottage. Mrs. Peel expelled some fruit juice on the cottage stoop before I could unlock the door. Within ten minutes she said, "I think I feel better."

"Cool," I said as I sluiced off the step. I refuse to kiss and tell but I will say Mrs. Peel sprang back nicely that evening. The next morning she was even better.

[gerryg123]

Ha, I can picture the scene. The bald fellow was my friend Andy, from the spear fishing expedition. Small world, eh?

[Patty Sather]

Miss Peel! what a trooper~ And rum , your discriptions of the events are .....just hilarious.....I hope she had you running in circles for a while anyhow~

[Rum-polephoreskin]

Gerry, that's rich.
You think Congo is really Bentley's brother?

Patty, I suppose she has, but generally I don't rattle very easily.

[booger]

Nice place to pick the story back up....... Also, your description of Mrs Peel reminds me of my wife. Usually walks within the lines, however will cross over once in awhile to just live a little bit... Dig your writing style phoreskin......