Negril Notes

The Final Days - October ‘04 - Part 8 - Final

July 16, 2005

Saturday morning’s calm was punctured by Mark calling to a fisherman a few hundred yards off the cliff.

“Poglai?” He shouted, hose in hand.

“Ya Mon” Replied the fisherman.

Mark called Alex over and had him cut a deal with the fisherman for about 3 pounds of Poglai (It may have been Toglai).

Mark told us this tasty reef fish is only available in the fall and is a local delicacy! Your average Poglai/Toglai is about nine inches long and quite meaty. Ann Marie cooked them while we were out gallivanting and they were sitting in our refrigerator when we returned.

As with most fish in Negril they were cooked whole and looked like they were pan fried with some kind of spices. I don’t know how they tasted hot, but cold they were a real treat! As soon as we were done we sought out Mark and Ann Marie to thank them.

Hanging out this week at Banana Shout with Mark, Ann Marie and the rest of the crew added innumerable insights to Jamaica, Jamaican life, and the expatriate experience.

If I ever write a book of my travels it will be called “An American Expatriate in Negril A Week at a Time.” That’s the flavor of my experiences in Negril, an expatriate for a week. I try to drop into the Jamaican lifestyle as fast as possible and roll with it for the entire trip. I so envy friends who go native for extended periods, the freedom must be amazing!

Usually the worst time in Jamaica is the few moments you let yourself dwell on the impending trip back to the “so called” real world. To put that off for a month or more, wow! Now that’s a trip I am definately going to take! Someday.

On Sunday the boys went to town. We were going to get some breakfast, do our souvenir shopping and see where the day would take us.

Clive picked us up around 10AM and we headed to Selina’s for breakfast and the Sunday Brunch Webcast. It was Nick’s first time to the Selina’s for a webcast, but he realized he’d been to Selina’s before.

The joint was jumpin’! Cowboy and Dave were doing their thing while we stuffed ourselves with Big Roy’s Banana Pancakes. I ordered a few pounds of coffee and we hung around for about an hour meeting and greeting fellow boardies.

We made our way down the strip towards the Craft Market, meeting many disappointed higglers who found us full of ganja and heading out of town tomorrow. It was early afternoon by the time we got to the Craft Market and there were thunderclouds threatening.

The Craft Market had not bounced back from Ivan yet, more than half the shops were closed and almost all of the apparel had been soaked by the hurricane and had a sickly yellow tinge to them. Most of the carvings were the imported and painted crap first timers buy.

Several times the sellers frustrations of not selling, met our annoyance of being sold at! It was as stressful a time as I’ve ever had in Negril, and the now driving rain didn’t help much!

We knew exactly what we wanted, I resigned myself to getting my nieces and nephews t-shirts at the airport, but I was looking for a unique carving for my daughter and Nick was loosing faith that his week long search for a unique mushroom carving would be in vain.

Finally we met a guy who said he was the “Maker.” Unfortunately, though he was the maker, which was good, his stuff was not to our liking, which was bad. I bought a coral necklace from him anyway, for effort.

But this gave us the idea of asking for the “Maker!” Jah bless them, Jamaicans can twist, back pedal and obfuscate with the best of them, but they can’t lie very well when asked a direct question.

Finally we found one “Maker” who had just what I wanted for Kristine, my spirits soared! One down!

There was a guy that had been following us, pleading for us to come and look at his stuff, “Are you the “Maker?” we asked.

His reply hooked us. He said that if we didn’t like what we saw he would make us anything we wanted. That got Nick’s attention. We went into his small shop which was more workshop than storefront. We looked around and his stuff was cool, but all too big and no Magic Mushrooms carvings.

He asked Nick to describe in detail what he wanted. So, with his hands he sculpted the air into his ideal shape. “The Maker” pulled out a raw piece of mahogany about six inches square and twelve inches long. Nick took the piece of lumber and held it as “The Maker” explained exactly how he would free the mushroom carving trapped in the wooden block. Nick was sold!

Then the haggling began. Nick had planned on spending $30 to $40US for the carving, but “The Maker” started at $80. After several feigned walk outs the price was $40 now and $10 more on delivery. “The Maker” asked where we were staying and said he would drop it off at Banana Shout at 7PM.

Walking up to the corner in the now light drizzle of rain to wait for Clive, I told Nick, “You know you just lost forty bucks.”

Nick was philosophical, “Well at least I’ll have a story of how I “didn’t” get my mushroom carving!”

Standing at the corner waiting for Clive, every cab driver in Negril tried to get us to ride with him. At first it was funny, then annoying, and they just kept coming. I wish we would have counted. There were at least twenty five, if not thirty, no kidding!

Soon Clive appeared and we were back at “The Shout” in minutes.

After some herbal relaxation and showers we each took a late afternoon nap. I woke up and it was dark, Shit! I missed my last sunset!

“Last night dinner, you call it!” I shouted to Nick from downstairs where I was still half sleeping.

“3 Dives, Shit Butt!!” He eloquently replied.

As we were enjoying our pre 3 Dives hunger enhancing spliff, Alex came to our door saying some guy had been outside for an over an hour saying that he had something for us. Puzzled we walked out to the street behind Alex, and to both Nick and my astonishment “The Maker” was standing there holding a bag, beaming with pride.

He pulled his Fungi Masterpiece out of the bag and it was exactly what Nick had been describing to Negril’s crafty crowd all week! Nick gave him $20US, ten more than they’d agreed on and triumphantly marched it back to our house. He hid it in his stuff and off to 3 Dives we went!

This was my third 3 Dives dinner in ten days and it was delicious as always, it was dark and as crowded as we’d seen it all week. I guess some of the all inclusive folks were feeling daring!

We stayed up late that night smoking, reminiscing and writing in our respective journals. It was actually light when I got up.

A family of ants had found their way into my bag of sugar and I did my best to not add any to my morning coffee, but I’m sure I got a little extra protein.

I sat out on the porch of Seaside one with my coffee and stared off to the horizon, lost in my thoughts. Just then one of the cement mixing guys came up to the porch with a new looking gym bag.

He told me earlier in the week, he was a jewelry maker and planned to move to Negril and make his fortune. I told him to come by before we left and I’d be his first customer. He’d actually spent a few breaks this past week telling us of his plans, so I was happy he came back.

He opened his bag and there were a huge assortment of beautiful necklaces and bracelets. I needed a few birthday gifts so I picked three necklaces and asked how much. He was so excited to sell me something his haggling skills weren’t very sharp.

He told me each necklace was $10US, but when I offered him $10 for all three, he not only took it, but gave me another one! Then he thanked me, hugged me goodbye and gave me a woven friendship bracelet that I tied to my ankle (its still there).

Nick and I walked down to Sips and Bites for our fifth or sixth breakfast of the week. The place is awesome, as the week went on the portions grew, the bill shrank, and the tips more than doubled.

As we walked back to “The Shout” we knew it was time to say goodbye to our friends. We shook hands with Mark and Alex. Then we each hugged and got pictures with Ann Marie. All too soon Gary was there and we packed out bags into his car.

A sadness came over me that I’d never known when leaving Negril. This trip was more than just a week of partying. I’d met some really great people, and I had some truly unique experiences.

I promised myself that I would share these experiences, take the writings from my private journals and put them out there to see what happens.

Moving forward, I’d live a little free-er, take more chances, open my heart and share my art.

As Banana Shout disappeared around a corner, I knew that I’d finally found a place in Negril I will definitely come back to.

Thank’s for reading!

Peace
Vinny