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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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