Negril Notes

A Friday in October - October ‘04 Part 7

July 8, 2005

The second story bedroom in Seaside One at Banana Shout is amazing for sleeping, Nick and I got to calling it “The Bamboo Lung.” Screened windows all around with wooden slats similar to those crank operated glass slat windows your grandmother had on her porch. This type of window is very common in Negril at least in the non-air conditioned part of town. Up here the slats were fixed three-quarters open, perfect for privacy and air flow while keeping the sunlight at bay. Add to this a very efficient ceiling fan, and even in the heat of the October afternoon, this room is a cool retreat.

It was Friday morning, early morning, I don’t know what time. I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling fan cutting the humid pre-dawn air, I was wide awake and I feeling great! Two and a half days of being sick were definitely in the rear view, and I felt all that Negril energy popping, calling me to begin my day. I couldn’t lay still any longer.

I stood in “The Bamboo Lung” looking out to the ocean, I was so happy to be back to normal that I decided not to waste a minute of my last three days in paradise. I quietly walked out onto the veranda. I looked at the hammock and then out to sea. I had a strong feeling that I needed to be out there. I tiptoed across the room and down the stairs. As I moved the feeling grew, some force was drawing me to the sleepy coral cliffs, I walked past the coffee maker, grabbed a half smoked spliff from the ash tray and before I knew it I was standing with my toes just inches from the cliff’s edge.

There was no moon this morning, the sky was crystal clear and a zillion stars peeked thru the firmament to greet me. The pitch black ocean was non-existent visually, yet I could feel its life force everywhere at once. Its gentle breeze flowed around and through me, energizing me as I stood at the precipice, lost in time and space, eyes open, fully aware, mind quiet.

I have no idea how long that moment lasted, just that like all such moments, not long enough, but probably just long enough. I walked down closer to the waters edge, either my eyes or my mind had focused to the situation, because I could see every detail of the limestone steps and below me and the coral cliff beside me. I sat on a tiny out cropping in the cliff with my feet resting in the water. I began to time my deep breaths with the rhythmic splashes of the tiny waves at my feet and again was lost in the quiet search for the center of all things.

Part of me could see a fisherman about a hundred yards off shore, quietly checking his traps. Mark was stirring, I could hear the hose way off in the distance. The street was coming alive then finally the cock began to crow, morning was here for the rest of Negril, but for a few precious moments I had it all to myself. As I walked back to fire up the coffee pot I realized the half-smoked spliff was still in my pocket.

A cool shower and half a cup of coffee later Nick came trundling down the stairs immediately knowing I was back to normal.

“Weclome Back,” he said as he fumbled for a coffee mug.

“Thanks Man, I feel great!” And I did.

“What time is it, I’m starving!”

“Not sure exactly, but the sun is just coming up which means it’s five or five thirty-ish”

“Which means three hours-ish till Sips & Bites, didn’t you buy eggs?”

“Yeah and bread too, make some breakfast!” I said, all of the sudden feeling hungry.

“Two Mushroom Omelets, coming right up!!” Nick seemed wide awake as he flashed an evil grin and a baggie of mushrooms!

Sometime around mid morning, with our bellies and our heads full, and giggling like drunken girl scouts, we set out to find out where West End Road turned into Lighthouse road.

It was nice walking weather, not as oppressively hot as it had been all week and soon we were at the Negril Lighthouse. It’s funny, from Banana Shout it seems like it’s around the next bend, but it’s probably a good half a mile. Looking up at the impressive structure, I realized I had never visited it before nor did I know much about it. Generally I’m a wealth of worthless knowledge, but the Negril Lighthouse file was all but empty. I approached excitedly, hoping to fill this knowledge void, but alas it was closed due to Ivan damage. A big pile of stones blocked the entrance while a few mean looking and well armed guards gave us the hairy eyeball.

Part of me wanted to keep going and check-out “The Westender Inn” and on to Negril’s south shore, but the out of shape part of me won out so we headed back towards “The Shout.”

As we headed up the barely paved road, we began to hear music blaring from somewhere. The music added rhythm to our trudges the closer we got it became obvious that it was coming from a Jamaican guy rocking out with some kind of Karaoke machine. As we got closer I began to figure out the lyric.

“Hey boys come-a-over-ere
Da Paarty is whatcha gettin’ neer
Don’t cha just a be a-walk-a by
Da music would make ya wanna fly”
and on and on.

“Hey Fellas whatcha name” the man shouted with the aid of his loudspeakers.

“Nick” replied Nick.

Then booming across the yard, “Nick Nick Nick Nicky NicK
Rexy’s place will do da trick
Anyting yar lookin far, I and I show you da door”
and on and on.

Well with an invitation like that we had to make an adjustment to our plans and check this guy out.

We walked across the yard to a pavilion of sorts with the name Sexy Rexy’s painted in faded letters across the front. The place was pretty sparse, a few picnic tables and a makeshift bar in the back. A youngish man offered us Red Stripes and Ting, we got one of each.

From the time we turned from the street into the yard known as Sexy Rexy’s the older man who enticed us in with his rasta flavored rapping, had been singing a song with uninteliglble words, but with all the gusto he could muster. We sat at a bench and rexlaxed out of the heat and enjoyed the entertainment such as it was. Soon the song was done and he enthusiastically came over and introduced himself.

“I am Sexy Rexy” he proudly stated with a big smile, and as we introduced ourselves I remembered hearing of this guy though I didn’t know any details.

I’m not sure how to describe Sexy Rexy, saying he was a character would be a gross understatement. We found ourselves spellbound within the world of his stories. He spoke in length about Ivan, by figuratively walking us down Lighthouse Road, colorfully describing the damage and the current state of every property from Jackie’s on the Reef to The Yacht Club.

When he found out we were at Banana Shout, he told us of he and Mark’s decades long friendship in story form, telling tales of Negril’s past from the Jamaican vantage point. We could have stayed all day, but the pangs of hunger and the need for a ganja refill said it was time to go.

Sexy Rexy went back to his music and set out to lure in a preppy looking couple coming up the road. As we passed them they asked what was over at Rexy’s and I replied, “Jamaica.” An adventurous smile grew on the cute older woman’s face and dragged hubby towards Rexy.

As we walked away I heard Sexy Rexy say over the loud speaker, “Hey sista whatcha name”

After a spliff or three and an afternoon nap, the sun grew heavy in the sky. I remembered it was Friday night, so I hopped in the shower, shaved, poofied my hair and put on my loudest Hawaiian shirt. We’re going to 3 Dives!!

3 Dives is about the best restaurant in the world, great food, great people, cold beer, and a sunset that defies description. No one was diving tonight, the webcast was rolling and we just took our time and hung out with strangers who were now friends.

Vinny

Filed under: Negril, Writing