The familair faces are what brings me back to Seastar Inn. I so enjoy seeing Chris again, the jovial Canadian transplant with a wild life story who ended up marrying the most beautiful Jamaican in Negril and co-founded the Seastar.

The hotel started small, but slowly the two have built it up, and now there are 19 rooms -- all of them amazing in their own way -- and a fancy covered courtyard that makes the place look like a real resort. The property is covered with plants and flowers, giving the surroundings a jungle feel. Just in front of my door there is a mango tree with fruit hanging down at eye level. Sometimes I feel like taking a bite as I walk by, but Francine would never let me the end of it, I assume.

Shaky is back full-time. He is kind of the Seastar Inn mascot, a gentlemen with special needs whom the staff as taken in as their own. Barbara is kind of like his mom, and Garrett is kind of like his dad.

I know just about every staff member by name, including Leroy, the great chef and unsung hero of the joint. Rochelle is the youngest, I think, and stunningly beautiful. Nicky, a server, also looks like model. Clarol and Barbara have been loyal for years. The one-armed gardener is still here (Francine's cousin), and I'm sure Garrett will be here forever. He is kind of the caretaker of the place, and he lives on site with his dog, Boy, one of the biggest and nicest dogs on the lane.