Negril Notes

Yoga Center Trip April 2004 – Part 3

January 28, 2005

The Negril.com Message Board Comes To Life

Sunday Brunch at Selina’s is like a Negrilaholics Anonymous meeting.

I’d found Negril.com quite sometime before this trip, but it was only when I began really planning did I discover the message board, and what a revelation it was.

I posted a note asking for information and suggestions regarding The Negril Yoga Center, and in minutes I had responses. Good responses. I expected a few, “Yeah Buddy, I got your Yoga Center RIGHT HERE!” type responses, but instead I received thoughtful emails from several people who had recently been to the Yoga Center who gave me honest, helpful opinions. I even got an email from Marcia from the Yoga Center management inviting me to check out the website.

I don’t know exactly when it happened but somehow I became a boardie! I changed my lurker moniker to Vinny_From_Philly and I was on my way.

One Sunday, still months before my trip, I was minding my own business when I came across post from “The Negril Crew” stating, “SELINA’S SUNDAY BRUNCH – JOIN US LIVE NOW!” Intrigued I clicked through to “The Real Negril” Webcast and before I knew it I was in Negril, chatting with people I’d seen on the board and listening to the Jamaican Cowboy. I was hooked! Over the next few weeks I became a Sunday morning regular at Selina’s, and I also stopped in at Three Dives a few times for a Negril sunset fix.

I woke up early Sunday morning. I was so excited to get to Selina’s but had to chill because it was still only 6AM. So, I took some time getting ready for my webcast premier, I shaved, poofied my hair, put on a good pair of shorts and a loud Hawaiian shirt. I topped it off with the Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap I’d bought especially for the trip. Not being a “Hat Guy,” I tried putting it on in different ways. Tilted, backwards, sideways, finally I looked in the mirror, “Face it, you’re 40, cool is escaping you.” I didn’t care, I was un-cool in Negril!

After some herbal mind enhancement I walked out to the breakfast table to find my friend Alan talking to a very pretty young woman from Paris. Now, being from the US, I’m supposed to dislike French people out of hand, but looking at this demure beauty, dislike was far from my mind. Her name was Yasmine and I was smitten.

I sat next to Yasmine and made small talk and Claudette the chef brought some coffee. Time seemed to stand still as I listened to that sexy French accent telling the story of the trip to, and arrival in Jamaica via Amsterdam and Havana. I hung on her every word as if she was Buddha teaching the path to enlightenment. I clumsily told her of several plans I had for the week and opened several doors of invitation. She seemed kind of interested, or maybe she was just too nice to burst my caffeine and ganja induced bubble. Soon it was 9:30 and I had to get to Selina’s. I bade goodbye to my Yoga friends and headed to meet my boardie friends in person.

Armed with freshly stirred testosterone, I set out to walk the half mile to Selina’s. Of course, I only made it about a hundred yards when a taxi driver made me an offer I couldn’t refuse and in seconds I was at Selina’s.

I walked from the road into the brightly colored and crowded brunch hot spot. I wondered if I’d recognize anyone, but no sooner was the thought completed that I spotted Rob (Mr. RealNegril Webcast), Selina and the Jamaican Cowboy sitting together at the bar near a laptop computer. I walked over and made my introductions. I took a seat at the bar with a good view, ready for whatever was to happen.

I knew there were people here I have spoken to via the board, but I had no idea who was who. How was I going to figure this out? I began thinking nametags would have been a good idea, but a “Hello My Name Is” sticker didn’t seem like the island way.

The Jamaican Cowboy started his set as I ordered breakfast. I remembered The Jamaican Cowboy from the “Hedonism Island Picnic” almost ten years earlier though I couldn’t place him. Maybe he changed, maybe I changed? There couldn’t be two Jamaican Cowboy’s, could there? Anyway, this guy was kickin’ it old school to some sort of Jamaican rockabilly. Whatever it was, he held the place spellbound. His gruff yet melodious voice, his piercing hazel blue eyes and his buddy on the rumba box keeping the bass line, had us all a-tapping and a-swaying.

This was my first trip to Selina’s, the coffee was fantastic, and the Jamaican breakfast was spot on! Selina herself was everywhere. She knew almost everyone in the place, and the ones she didn’t know she met. I don’t know her story, but she’s from Canada, she says “about” in that funny Canadian way, and she really seemed to find true happiness here in Negril. Big Roy her husband was in the kitchen and her beautiful children were scampering all aboot the place.

Suddenly, halfway through the attack on my plate, a smiling woman, who also seemed to know everyone, walked up to me and said, “You must be Vinny From Philly!!”

“That’s me!” I said cheerfully, guessing the Phillies hat, now on the counter beside me acted as the afore mentioned nametag.

“I’m Meg,” she said and welcomed me to Negril as she introduced me to her group. Her husband Tom, Patty, Erin, Lisa, a guy named Frank, his wife and a few others.

They seemed like a lively bunch and I was invited to stop by Kuyaba later that afternoon. I joined in their conversation from my bar perch and I began looking forward to the impending party. Here I was thousands of miles from home and these folks made me feel as if I was back on South Street in Philly. Negril is a special place, and it attracts special people.

I listened to The Cowboy, met more boardies and waved to the several friends and family I’d told to look at the Webcast at exactly 11AM. The coffee, turned to Bloody Marys, and then to Red Stripes, while most of the brunching boardies headed back to their hotels. Too Soon the Webcast was over, and after a hug from Selina I was off to explore Sunday afternoon in Negril.

The Kuyaba Party Animals

The midday sun and the vodka from my Bloody Marys shortened my planned beach walk to town, so I cut through Travellers and hit the Yoga center for some bottled water and a nap in the hammock hut.

I woke several drooling hours later. Wow, I felt great! I ambled back to my cottage to find the maid had changed my dark blue bedspread to a loud bright pink tie-died one. Now pink isn’t normally a favorite color, but this bedspread rocked! I took it as good omen for my night. Chicks dig pink!

About 6-ish, I walked over to Kuyaba and the crew was in full party mode. Frank was regaling the crowd with a story of island adventures from the previous days. I don’t remember the story but he had all of us roaring. The next thing I knew it was dark, I was feeling no pain, and somehow I’d switched to a drink called a Dirty Banana.

I’m not a hundred percent sure what happened next, but Erin, Patty and I kind of paired off, trio’d off would be more accurate. We had a blast. The memories are blurry. Teary eyed blurry, we laughed for hours, and we didn’t even visit Tedds! These two were awesome; we were three of a kind. On vacation, blowing off steam and not the least bit self conscious.

Sometime during the night I must have remembered I brought my camera because I took a series of drunken photos, mostly of Patty and Erin and several of nothing at all. I must have slipped into the obnoxious Philadelphia picture taking drunk, because many photos are of my new gal pals obviously saying, “STOP TAKING MY F#$%&>? PICTURE!” The night somehow ended without the torrid threesome I was envisioning in my demented alcohol addled brain, which was good because I don’t think little vinny could have handled these two vixens in such a drunken state.

Slinking back to the Yoga Center, I felt like a teenager trying not to wake the family as I stumbled to my cottage. I opened a beer, and attempted to record the fun filled night in my journal, but to this day I have no idea what the scribbley gibberish means. Other than I must have had a good time.

- Vinny