40 years later

[vivnyc]

More pictures from 1977 and 1978. Included in these photos is a photo of a woman who bought Mirage on the cliffs, then she and her husband built Charela on the beach, in the mid-late 1970s. She was French, married to a Jamaican. I think her name was Sophie--but I'm amazed that I can even remember her name so many years later. This week (4/13) I tracked down with the former owners of Mirage (Lauro and Michela). I got to know them quite well in Paris after they'd left Negril in 1981. I'll ask them the name of who purchased Mirage and built CHarela. Jack, a Harvard-trained dentist, who temporarily practiced dentistry in an open-air house on the beach in Negril in the 1970s, first introduced me to the owners of Mirage in 1977. He was a friend of my mother's. I stayed in the actual cottages at Mirage; they were located across the road in the West End, in a beautiful, well-kept garden. The first year, in 1977, there was no electricity. It was quiet and beautiful. The only way to get around in the West End was to walk. No traffic and not many people. No hustlers on the road. There were "Home Sweet Home Lanterns" for light at night. The bartenders at Rick's Cafe had to turn off the music whenever a patron requested a blender drink--the generator wouldn't support the blender and music simultaneously. Rick's was the "expensive" place in the area, a place we only went to once or twice. The Jamaicans would dive off the cliffs, but not at the place where they dive now. Most of my friends rented rooms--at Sammy's, I think. Showers at Mirage before electricity had limited hot water--hot water heated by the actual sunshine during the day (solar powered hot water). Eating in a restaurant in Negril took hours back then!

The road in the West End in 1978
Rick's Cafe
Sylvie, Owner of Charela in 1970s

[Piggymon]

More pictures from 1977 and 1978. Included in these photos is a photo of a woman who bought Mirage on the cliffs, then she and her husband built Charela on the beach, in the mid-late 1970s. She was French, married to a Jamaican. I think her name was Sophie--but I'm amazed that I can even remember her name so many years later. This week (4/13) I tracked down with the former owners of Mirage (Lauro and Michela). I got to know them quite well in Paris after they'd left Negril in 1981. I'll ask them the name of who purchased Mirage and built CHarela. Jack, a Harvard-trained dentist, who temporarily practiced dentistry in an open-air house on the beach in Negril in the 1970s, first introduced me to the owners of Mirage in 1977. He was a friend of my mother's. I stayed in the actual cottages at Mirage; they were located across the road in the West End, in a beautiful, well-kept garden. The first year, in 1977, there was no electricity. It was quiet and beautiful. The only way to get around in the West End was to walk. No traffic and not many people. No hustlers on the road. There were "Home Sweet Home Lanterns" for light at night. The bartenders at Rick's Cafe had to turn off the music whenever a patron requested a blender drink--the generator wouldn't support the blender and music simultaneously. Rick's was the "expensive" place in the area, a place we only went to once or twice. The Jamaicans would dive off the cliffs, but not at the place where they dive now. Most of my friends rented rooms--at Sammy's, I think. Showers at Mirage before electricity had limited hot water--hot water heated by the actual sunshine during the day (solar powered hot water). Eating in a restaurant in Negril took hours back then!

The road in the West End in 1978
Rick's Cafe
Sylvie, Owner of Charela in 1970s

Nice pictures and good information. Thanks for posting.

I know what you mean about it taking hours to have a meal in the restaurants back in the day. But after a while, one got used to it and it seemed normal. Since I was usually with friends and we were all stoned and drinking Red Stripes, the very slow and uncertain service was not a biggie. I really did not realize how slow the service was until I was staying at my sister's apartment in Manhattan for a few days after spending a couple of months in Negril. My sister was a model and had left the apartment early in the morning for work. I got up later. Her apartment was high dollar with a doorman and all that, but it was also tiny and there was very little to eat in the little kitchen. But there was a menu and a phone number for a deli that delivered on the kitchen counter. I looked over the menu and the food looked good so I made my choice and made the call. I was only about ten seconds into my order when the voice on the other end of the line demanded that I speed it up. I quickly blurted out my order and address and was cut off with curt OK. I was still smarting over the demand to speed up my order when there was a knock on the door. I paid the bill and the delivery guy was gone in a flash. I checked my order, thinking that they had probably messed it up, but it was perfectly filled with everything just as I had ordered it. I ate my meal laughing at the difference in speed and accuracy between the Jamaican and New York food service. In New York, time was money and you do not waste time or money. In Negril, you gave your order about three times and more often than not, you got pretty much what you ordered. Still, I loved Negril and the vibe there and I always will.