Negril Notes
Thoughts - Words - Images - Music - Loosely based on my travels to Negril Jamaica

Big bad Gustav was still only a tropical storm as he made his way along the southern coast of my beloved Jamaica, lucky for my Jamaican friends. There are reports of wind, some down trees and lost bech chairs, but it seems Negril fared ok.

I found some storm video of Dancing Mangos in Negril.

I like to watch the National Hurricane Center. They have the best and most current coverage.

There is always the Jamaica News-Gleaner, with decent coverage, though they sometimes downplay the bad stuff.

Hang in there!

Vinny

Yes, Yes it’s time for another trip to sunny Negril, though this one kinda snuck up on me. Saturday June 7th I’ll leave the house in Brooklyn about 5AM, and I’ll be on the J.U.T.A. bus to Negril by noon.

On past trips I’d be packed by now, my over-stuffed rolling duffel bag sitting expectantly by the door, but this time around the bag is yet to be zipped. I did some stuff, but I still need to hit Target for some necessities. I’m having a tough time finding heavy-duty bug repellant in New York City.

I’ve also gotten into the habit of posting my packing list a few weeks out, but I think the idea has gotten stale. I don’t think I added anything since the last trip, and some stuff was never unpacked.

So this trip will be completely unscheduled. I rarely follow my damned schedule anyway, but for some reason I feel the need to pencil something in.

I will be posting, my room at the Blue Cave Castle is very close to the WIFI, so there shouldn’t be a problem.

See you in Negril!

Vinny

The next day started early for me. Well before dawn I walked cool damp Castle grounds. I love his place! I love the gentle slosh of the Sea emanating from the Blue Cave, the cool salty breeze in my hair, the sun lightening the edges of the eastern sky, and of course, the steaming mug of Jamaican coffee in my hand. Did I say I love this place?

Since retirement, Dad has gotten used to sleeping in, and for me in Negril, sleeping in is about six-thirty in the morning. I’m not sure when he actually rose since clocks are not on my vacation agenda, but by mid-morning we were hungry, and I had Dad all jazzed up for an authentic Jamaican Breakfast.

I always enjoy Selina’s so I figured we’d head down to her place for breakfast. We hit a road in a route taxi, and my Dad was great, he just rolled with the punches all week long, open to everything. We got to talking to our fellow travelers about Jamaican Breakfast, and one of the guys named Lionel told us he had a cousin with a real authentic Rastafarian Breakfast Joint directly on the beach.

“I’m a tour guide!” exclaimed Lionel, but when the other guys in the car laughed when he said it, he knew the jig was up.

Of course the afore-mentioned restaurant seemed too good to be true, but what the hell, these guys had a good positive vibe and I said, “Sounds great! Take us there!” Dad seemed a bit trepidatious.

We passed Travellers and Shields and pulled into a small overgrown drive just before Bar-B-Barn. From where we parked, we couldn’t see the beach, or the road, and Dad was expecting us to be robbed at any minute, but I could hear the surf close by. We followed our new friends up a grass covered path and in seconds Seven Mile Beach appeared before us. I looked over to Dad as he stood wide-eyed at the impossibly beautiful sea of blueness. We were so taken by the scene that we didn’t notice the big Rastaman setting up a table for us.

Lionel, who stood beaming as if he was a bit surprised by his new-found success as a tour guide, decided to talk, and talk, and then talked some more. He was entertaining at first, an amiable bloke to be sure, and he was even up front about having to hustle tourists to make a living.

I don’t know If the big Rastaman was actually his cousin Lionel, but Lionel seemed pretty nervous when he came by to give us fresh squeezed juices, or to update us on the progress of our meals.

The Jamaica Breakfasts arrived and I was impressed! They were bountiful and beautifully plated. The big Rasta-Chef explained everything and my Dad was rapt with attention. “Don’t eat too fast.” He admonished us. “We don’t use salt. We let the natural flavors come though the food. Please enjoy!”

This guy had a great touch, and the food was excellent. The Ackee was tender, and there were few bones in the Saltfish. The yam, the plantain and johnny cakes were as advertized, bland at first but the subtle flavors built as you enjoyed them.

I was so happy with the meal that I grossly over-tipped Lionel, which had the added pleasure of making him go away. I loved the guy, but we really wanted to eat in peace.

I guess I’d made up for the previous night’s hooker debacle. I really felt like the island-savvy son, and Dad really seemed to be enjoying himself.

We checked out the beach a while but there wasn’t much going on, and we were back at The Castle before noon. I walked over to the bodega for beer, water, ting and other assorted necessities to stock the fridge for the week, while Dad went to work on his Vince Flynn novel.

On my way back from the bodega I ran into sweet beautiful Petrona, who offered to move us from Deluxe 2 into Superior 12 which had a TV and A/C. Dad was happy with the move, and with the panoramic ocean view from the porch. You really can’t beat this place, you’re treated like family, the location is paramount, and the prices are so low you can’t understand how they stay in business.

Dad and I relaxed reading, taking short dips in the sea, and drinking Red Stripes. The place wasn’t crowded, but we did meet Angela from Nova Scotia that day. Orchid as she is known on the Negril.com Message Board. Dad had been to Nova Scotia with my Mom a few years back, and they seemed to hit it off pretty well. Angela was living large in the penthouse and was on an extendned and extending vacation, she may be still there.

Later in the afternoon Susan, the owner of The Castle, returned from her vacation. So where does someone who lives in Negril go for vacation? Brooklyn of course! Susan graciously invited Dad and I out for a lobster dinner at Erica’s Cafe.

Susan drove us in her little red car, Petrona joined us, and there was also a Canadian couple, who were long time Negril residents, and friends of Susan’s. We had a nice time, the food was excellent, and so was the conversation. We each had half a grilled lobster, and a nice portion of curried lobster with all the accoutrements. Dad and I peppered Susan with questions about the building and history of The Castle. There’s definitely a book in that story, maybe even a mini-series.

Being Saturday night we said our good-byes to our hostess and we hopped a taxi over to The Seastar In for some twisting by the pool. The road into Seastar seemed darker than usual on this moonless night, but everything brightened up as we turned into the driveway. The party was in full swing when we arrived, Rob, Lisa and Captain Rob were working the webcast, and I introduced my Dad to all the boardies logged in that night. The place was crowded, there seemed to be so few people in Negril, they must have all been at Seastar.

As we settled in with ice cold Red Stripes, there was some commotion in the pool area, some girl had gotten naked and jumped in. Henceforth she will be referred to as Nakid Girl, though her nakedness was relatively short lived. She spent most of her night stumbledancing to the reggae stylings of Rasta Ralphie, other than the few minutes we chatted about things metaphysical. She was very wasted but she was no dummy, and she seemed a bit over her head in whatever she was involved with, but for that night she had a grand time.

Dad was very impressed with Rasta Ralphie. The two of them were in the same basic age range, but old Ralphie had the physique of a much younger man. I’m sure is had something to do with his hyperactive stage persona. I tell you that man can rev up a crowd.

I had a nice time visiting with Rob, Crob and Lisa. Lisa was only a few days away from heading back to the frozen tundra of Winepeg Canada after six plus months in sunny Negril. She must not have stayed too long because it seems like she was back in a few weeks, but I’m sure for Rob it was an interminable absence.

We’d had a long day and I doubt we lasted much later than ten or eleven o’clock. Chris, the Seastar’s owner, had his driver take us back to The Castle with the added fun of sharing the ride with Nakid Girl. 

More to come…

Vinny

It’s been on my mind to continue telling the story of my Dad’s first trip to Negril. In the weeks after returning I’d spent hours scribbling this and that in my journal, that’s my process. I write and write, I dump it all onto the the page, and then I begin the editing process. But then tragedy struck—I lost my journal—I was apoplectic. Imagine months of my deepest, not to mention wierdest, thoughts, all my compiled gems of literary genius. Gone. 

So where was I? We left off with Dad and I making it to The Blue Cave Castle after a bit of drama at the airport. Can you believe them treating me like a tourist? Well ok, but anyway it was pretty un-cool.

Arriving on a Thursday was a good idea as far as airfare was concerned, but Dad had to miss the Rutgers v. FSU game. He’s a Rutgers season ticket holder. Therefore after settling in we figured maybe we could find a bar with ESPN for a little dinner, football scores and maybe some highlights.

We asked Santa, the night security man at The Castle, if he knew any bars showing American Football, or at least one with cable. He mentioned a few, but he didn’t seem to sure of himself, so we decided to grab a taxi and see what we could find.

Stepping into the steamy street of the mid-October evening, it was quiet, the little beer shack across the street had morphed into something else since my last trip, and Elvis the carver was gone for the night. In a few minutes we were in a cab with a driver who swore he remembered me from last year, and we lit out for Mary’s Bay. I’d watched football there before, but it looked closed as we pulled up. Even Easy Rock was closed. October is about as low as low season gets in Negril.

I asked the driver if he knew of any places that might show American Football, but he was kind of shaky too. I didn’t want to go all the way to the beach so he turned around and we headed up to LTU or Parrot Bay, but as we pulled past the Castle I remembered Xtabi, “They have TV’s,” I thought.

Before we committed, I jumped out of the cab and asked the girl at the front desk if they had a TV with cable in the bar, and she enthusiastically said, “Yes, we do!” her pretty Jamaican accent filled the room. I all but skipped out the door, paid the driver and said, “Get out Dad, this is the place!”

“They’re playing the game?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but they have a TV with cable.” I was already crossing the street, and in minutes we were sitting at the bar pretty much all by ourselves.

“Hey Buddy, what are the chances you can turn on that TV so we can catch a little ESPN?” I asked as he opened our beers with his lighter.

“Not so good mi bredda, the TV is broke.” he said with a sad smile. I looked at my Dad and he just smiled, “It just ain’t in the cards tonight.”

I just laughed, the pretty girl at the front desk didn’t lie, there was definitely a TV and I’m sure it had cable, but next time I’m going to ask, “Do you have a working TV with cable?” Once bitten…

Dad must have been hungry because he dug right into the mediocre off-season Jerk Chicken, and he really enjoyed his first-ever plantains. We took a few Red Stripes for the road and walked back to The Castle since it was just a few doors down.

Once on the street I thought walking had been a bad decision, and I was quite over-protective of my Dad on the dark dangerous strip of road. I get pissed off at Samsara every time I walk that part of the road, with that wall so close to the road there’s no room to walk, and I’ll never stay at Samsara because of it.

As the shoulder widened we relaxed and my Dad got the chance to say “No Thanks” to his first ganja proposition. I was proud of the old guy, he was smooth and finite, and the Jamaican entrepreneur didn’t ask again.

But the next part was entirely my fault. Only thirty yards from the safety of The Castle gates, a taxi passed slowly, and as I waved off the driver I looked for just a split second too long at the scantily-clad Jamaican hotness in the passenger seat. I knew what was coming next, and I knew I couldn’t stop it.

“Hey boys, you need some company?” there were two of them, and I did something really stupid, and no I wasn’t drunk, I have no excuse, but I engaged them in conversation. I don’t know what I was thinking; I guess I was trying to be cool in front of my Dad, “Watch your island-savvy son handle this.”

They got out of the car, I told them to get back in, and of course they didn’t listen. Somehow certain people in Jamaica just know you’ve recently arrived, and you’re ripe for the picking.

My Dad just kept walking, and at first it was funny. I was between him and the two girls, and I was talking back and forth telling them we weren’t interested. They were nothing if not persistant. Then the tall one passed me and started talking directly to my Dad. He didn’t answer, but I got a little angry. The driver must have noticed my attitude change and called the girls back to the car. Their graphic promises of carnal delights didn’t stop till they drove away.

“Does that happen every night?” My Dad asked half amused and half astonished.

“Maybe it’s the time of year, I’ve never seen them so aggressive.” We were joking as Santa opened the gate for us. I must have looked shocked or something because Santo asked if I was okay.

We were exhausted after a long day and were sleeping soon after entering our room. 

More to come…

Vinny

 

Info:

West End Road - Garden Side across from Rockhouse.

Food:

Erica’s Lobster dishes are the mainstay of this little gem in the Negril cliffs. Grilled Lobster all over Negril is so often tough and/or lacking in flavor, few people really know what to do with it. At Erica’s the lobster is tender, buttery and the lobstery deliciosity just explodes in your mouth.

We had a wonderful soup to start things off, then out came the lobster. We were a party of four the first night, and eight the second night. Yes, I broke my “one meal per trip” rule, it was that good! The Grilled Lobster, must have been cooked slow on low heat, it was tender and shot through with buttery flavor. We also shared Erica’s Curried Lobster, though my preference is a spicy curry, the almost Thai-Style coconut milk infused curry was really beautiful.

Drinks:

I didn’t go for the fancy foo-foo drinks, but the Red Stripes were cold and plentiful, and unlike a lot of places in Negril they kept them coming.

Ambiance:

I must admit to driving and walking by Erica’s many times over the years and passing without a second thought. When we pulled up I thought, “Oh, this place! I always wondered what this place was…” The warmth and home-y-ness of the place is apparent as we took our seats.

Now, both times we were there with Negril royalty, the first night it was Susan and Petrona from The Blue Cave Castle (Susan took Dad and I out to dinner), and the second time it was for Queen Trudy’s birthday dinner, so I’m not sure how this ambiance will stand up when next I go there with other lowly commoners.

Service:

The service was quicker than most in Negril. Friendly, but not all over you, and as I wrote above, the cold Red Stripes kept coming. There was no empty bottle doing the head-waggy-whip-around looking for the server thing so often needed in even the better restaurants in Negril. 

Value:

The value the first night was awesome, Susan treated. The second time, I don’t remember the exact price but that doesn’t really matter I remeber the value. I remember being full, happy and buzzed, driving up to Seastar thinking I must have underpaid my share of the bill, since I was less than 2000J lighter and we all chipped in for the Queen of Negril’s dinner. 

Notes:

Erica’s is one of those places in Negril that you can take newbie friends who will be so impressed with the experience that they think you are “like totally” plugged in to the town. I plan to use this to my advantage on future trips. I wish there was a website to promote, I can only say to try it. You won’t be dissappointed.

 

Bon Appetite Mon,

Vinny

Life has been such a whirlwind since coming back from Jamaica. I’ve been writing in flashes of insight and memory, but coherence is eluding me. I’ll be on the subway, something will pop into my head, and I’ll scribble furiously in my journal trying to catch the essence of my thought before it slips away. That’s the way this trip report is unfolding, so I’m just gonna start posting in bits and pieces. A story here, a review there, and surely there will be some mindless rambling. I apologize in advance.

Uncharacteristically I’m going to begin with a rant:

Sangster International Airport just keeps getting nicer and bigger, and dare I say, more Americanified every trip. Normally I’d have my driver friend Clive pick us up at the Airport, but on this trip his phone just rang and rang, so I figured we’d save a few bucks and hop the J.U.T.A. to Negril.

I’ve done this quite a few times in the past. It’s the “I don’t want to haggle as soon as I get off the plane” solution. You may have to wait up to an hour, but it’s easy and there’s time to grab a beer while waiting. This time we walked up to the new-fangled J.U.T.A. booth and the J.U.T.A. uniformed guy starts telling us the $20US service wasn’t available since there were only two of us, and the minimum ride to Negril would be $80US.

He was full of crap and I told him so. Sure it was about 6PM by this time, and it seemed we were the only ones from our plane looking to utilize this mode of transportation, but I never remember getting a discount when they shoe-horned a dozen of us in the van for a mid-day trip.

There was a woman behind the counter giving me the “don’t listen to him” look, but when I asked for help she wouldn’t intercede. I was trying to keep my cool. This was my Dad’s first interaction with Jamaicans, and I didn’t want to start this vacation on a sour note. I was about to go outside and cut a deal with any of the thirty drivers right outside the door, but I was pissed that he was working us over and decided to push the point. I even wrote down his name if only to excoriate him in this forum, but I lost the damn slip of paper. 

Finally after about fifteen minutes of him pretending to ask this and see to that he came over and said he found a driver, but for the base rate he would only take us as far as the Negril roundabout it would be another $20US to get us to the Blue Cave Castle, and I quote, “Way up in the cliffs.” I told him the Blue Cave Castle was only 1.2 miles from the roundabout, hoping he didn’t know the actual mileage either, and that if he wanted a bribe just to ask for one, but to just cut the crap!

I asked him if he knows Clive from Negril, not my friend Clive, but the other Clive who runs the J.U.T.A. station out in Negril. I told him I was going to call him to straighten things out. “Can I borrow a celli?” I asked. I guess that made an impact because he started dragging our bags towards the parking lot.

Truth be told, I’ve only met Clive once when my friend, the other Clive, had to stop by the J.U.T.A. office on one of our many trips to or from Negril. I felt like an ass for pulling the boss card, but I wasn’t going to let this guy beat me. I always say, “If he was a good hustler, he’d be working the beach not the airport.”

We headed out of the airport in a nice comfortable van, with a very cool driver who immediately began to tell us what a jerk the guy we were dealing with was, but he was working the tip by then. I told him the deal and that I wasn’t a cheap bastard, I just felt we were being taken advantage of.

The night time drive to Negril took well over two hours due to traffic and road damage from thirteen straight days of rain. When we got to The Blue Cave Castle I tipped the driver well. I ended up paying the same amount as originally quoted but on my terms. One: he was a good driver and the trip took longer than expected. Second: there wasn’t the usual “just got into town” ganja purchase to compensate for since that usually puts a few bucks in the driver’s pocket.

All in all we took it in stride, Dad was no worse for wear, and at the end of the process we were at The Blue Cave Castle looking out at a gentle sea and up to a starlit Jamaican sky.

Peace

Vinny

Before going Negril a few weeks ago I made a special website banner, and I planned to make the switch with my first post from Negril. I still don’t know exactly why, but when I made the changes my site blew up! It didn’t take me too long to get it to display properly, but took me till this morning to get the posting part working.

I’ve posted a bunch of pics in my Gallery, click the link above.

I have tons written so I’ll be posting beginning tonight.

Vinny

It was a little rough getting here, a delay at Newark Liberty and a lot of evening traffic in Mobay, landed us at the Blue Cave Castle about 7:30-8:00PM. It wasn’t too bad, we had champagne on the plane and Red Stripes in the taxi.

Our first day included a trip via Route Taxi down to the beach for breakfast. One of the guys in to taxi said, “He had a brother with a restaurant on the beach that specializes in Jamaican Breakfast. We were a bit leary of the guy, but it worked out. We had to listen to his hustle for a while, but the breakfast was excellent. Ackee & Saltfish w/ Dumplings, banana, sweet potato and yams, server “al fresco” right on the beach squeezed in-between Bourbon Beach & Bar-b-Barn. Very good Rastaman Chef, explained everything to us. Add some fresh squeezed juice, mui excellente’.

Then we walked up the beach to about White Sands and headed to the street. We walked down and met a few higglers as we shooed away taxis and walked down to Selina’s for some Bloody Marys. We got a good driver out of Selina’s who took us to the NCB for $J, and we stopped for provisions at the HiLo.

We chilled at The Castle for a few hours, swimming off the cliffs, and exploring the caves. For Dinner we walked over to 3Dives not realizing the webcast was elsewhere, but the food was excellent as always. Dad had Curried Goat and I had 1/2 Jerk Chicken both our meals were served with well prepared rice & peas with callaloo. Of course there were multiple Red Stripes.

We got back and crashed early. We were up with the sunrise 5:30AM, so by 8:00PM we were bushed.

It’s great to be back at The Castle, the people couldn’t be nicer, our room is stunning, with an ocen view that isn’t really a view, it’s more like a presence. It’s just there, the gentle sound of waves washing on coral, the deep blue expanse out in the corners of your eyes fill every conscious moment. 

Dad loves the Castle’s architecture, we’re looking around wondering how they did this. We learned Fuzzy, one of the security men, has been here since the beginning, and we plan to pick his brain. You just can’t get a true understanding of The Castle’s wonderful silliness until you’re here, it is truly the best kept secret in the Caribbean.

I wish you could all be here!! Well actually you can - get on a damn plane!

Vinny

The day has come! Woo Hoo! It’s still dark in Brooklyn. I’m heading out to breakfast at Marko’s, then on to the D Train to 34th Street, then NJ Transit to Edison, NJ where my Dad will pick me up. By Late afternoon we’ll be in sunny Jamaica!

Stay tuned to this space. I will be posting as often as I can, I will also post links to webcasts, and any other happenings that happen along.

Peace,

Vinny

What a blog avoiding jerk I’ve been these past few weeks! My impending Negril trip looms near, and like always I attempt squeezing four weeks of work into the two weeks before a two week vacation. I should know better, but it seems to happen to some degree or another every trip.

Hmmm, so what have we missed? The Eagles won last Sunday, but they still suck! The Little Fower Field Hockey Team could beat the Jets! But of course they don’t listen to me, and the Philadelphia media are fawning like lovesick lemmings staggering ever so close to the precipice of a six win season. 

 All that said, I did enjoy the game. My brother Mike scrounged up tickets from some disaffected Jetster, and kindly thought of his big brother the Eagles Fan. Our tailgating left much to be deisred, after finally squeezing into a parking space we ate Tastee SuperSubs and Dr. Pepper on the trunk of Goldy, while people all around us feasted on various parts of large hooved creatures. Pennington may throw like a girl, but Jets Fans can tailgate with the best of them.

Ahhh Negril is so close I can shut my eyes and feel it everywhere. We leave in just about forty hours, I’m packed and relaxed. The normally jittery ravages of PNS (Pre-Negril Syndrome) have calmed into a simple to-do list. My roomate Chris is watching Rosie for me, so the cat guilt is chilled. My packing is down to such a science, and I keep most of the essentials in my duffel year-round.

A two-something flight from Newark, at The Castle by early evening, Friday morning Caribbean sunrise…

Soon Come…

Vinny

At 30 days out from a Jamaica trip I usually begin to stress about packing, rounding up all the supplies, and trying to remember all the things I forgot last time. 

Well, this time I’m not stressed at all. Here is it 28 days, 14 hours and 45 minutes from wheels up and I’m completly confident in my packing and organization. I’d like to think I’m maturing, or that I’m learning from my past. But no, I just never unpacked from my last trip!

Don’t get me wrong, I unloaded the stinky clothes, and aired out my big rolling duffel bag, but afterwards I just dumped most of the stuff back in. Then when I moved to Brooklyn I threw more crap in it, and rolled it away in a rented storage space several blocks away. I’ll go get it this weekend and double check it against my list.

Yes! The List! I know how you all look forward to my Packing List, so without further ado: Here it is!

The Packing List - October 2007 Trip with Dad 

Clothes (This is a two week trip, but I’m planning to get some wash done)

• 2 pairs - Swim Trunks (I plan to do more swimming this trip)  
• 3 pairs – Cargo Shorts (Somehow all my shorts have leg pockets these days)
• 3 pairs – Gym Shorts
• 12 Assorted T-Shirts (I just blow through shirts and I usually bring a few silly ones like my Spongebob shirt that seem cool when I’m packing, but would make me look like a moron if I actually wore them in public)
• 6 Hawaiian Shirts (I deleted the golf shirts this trip, I think I look cool in Hawaiian Casual) 
• 1 pair – Jeans
• 1 pair – Socks (This was 5 last time, what was I thinking?)
• 12 pairs – Underwear
• 1 pair - Silk Boxers (Just in case)
• Sandals
• Flip Flops
• Running Shoes (As if?)
• Fleece Jacket (For to and from)
• 2 Ball Caps (Eagles and Phillies, though with the way the Birds are playing I may opt for an “I ♥ NY” hat instead!)
• A Collapsible Duffel Bag (The last few trips I used this for dirty clothes and stuffed my suitcase with souvenirs)

Health & First-Aid

• First-Aid Kit (Simple, Band Aids, alcohol wipes, tweezers)
• Benadryl Itch Stick (For creepy crawly bites - I recommend it highly)
• Aloe Vera Lotion (Gringo burns)
• Sun Block 30SPF Spray-On (Spray-On RULES!! Worth the extra $)
• Sun Block Stick 30SPF (For my nose)
• Sun Block for Sensitive Skin 45 SPF (For my face, no comments please)
• Chapstick w/ UV protection
• Bug Repellant w/ at least 30% Deet (Can’t use wimpy stuff in Jamaica)
• Pepto Bismol Individual Packs of Caplets (Just in case of Bustamante’s Revenge)
• Excedrin Extra Strength Individual packets also (Nothing better for a Negril hangover)
• Vitamins
• Hand Sanitizer (Sounds a little prissy, huh)
• Wet-Ones (Put them in the freezer and use them to wipe your face. Woo Hoo! An old restaurant manager’s trick)
• Condoms (I usually think up a funny comment here, maybe that was a jinx…)

Toiletries

• Toothbrush
• Toothpaste
• Mouth Wash (I usually list floss, but I’m not living that lie anymore! Who flosses on vacation?)
• Shampoo
• Gel
• Disposable Razors (I always bring 4, I know not why)
• Shaving Cream
• Moisturizer (Yeah, moisturizer!)
• Hair Brush
• Deodorant
• Cologne (I’m a Polo man)
• Towels – Washcloth

Other Stuff

• Digital Camera
• Camcorder
• AAA Batteries – Energizer Max - 8 Pack
• Laptop Computer (The Castle has WIFI)
• DVD’s 
• Disposable Flashlight (Rarely needed, but needed when needed)
• Disposable Rain Ponchos (I’d delete this line, but I still have the same two ponchos I bought 5 years ago)
• Disposable Lighters
• Leatherman
• Travel Clock
• Cell Phone
• Sunglasses
• Breath Freshening Gum (Jerk Chicken is great, but …)
• Candy for the Kids – Non-melting, individually packaged, and yummy! (I usually come home with most of it, but I always bring some)

Mind and Body

• My Jamaica Journal – It’s a leather bound journal Kristine got me a few years ago that I only use in Jamaica.
• My Non-Jamaica Everyday Journal
• A Good Journal Writing Pen (High quality, low friction. A Fast Pen)
• Assorted Incense
• My Travel Buddha
• My Portable Sitting Cushion
• Books:

Gone to New York - Adventures In The City by Ian Frazier 
A Collection of Short Stories about NYC.
I thought it would be fun to read about my new home while in Negril.

The Bourne Supremacy - by Robert Ludlum
Working my way through the series backwards, don’t ask.

Zen Buddhism - Selected Writings of D.T. Suzuki
I like to think big thoughts on vacation.
I’ve been wanting to study more classical Zen writing.

Travel Supplies

• Passport
• Money some 20’s, and $100 in singles for tipping
• ID, ATM Card, Credit Card
• Travel Wallet
• Plane Tickets
• Printed Hotel Reservations
• Pens (Half a dozen pens for immigration and customs forms on the plane. No one ever has a pen, and I like to be the hero)
• Lonely Planet Guide to Jamaica ’06 Edition
• Jamaican Road Map (Don’t ask me why. I’m a map guy!)

That’s it for this trip, as always please feel free to comment.

Peace

Vinny

Writing about and visiting Jamaica in due course includes dealing with hurricanes. Hurricane Dean is slamming the shores of our favorite likkle place as I write this. I nervously watch the NOAA Storm Track, and I sit helplessly online in a RealNegril.com Boardie chat-room keeping an all night vigil hoping for some word that our friends are ok.

The little bits of news we’re getting isn’t good. Drudge is reporting “HELL STORM: JAMAICA,” thanks Matt, like this storm isn’t senationalized enough. The BBC is using terms like “lashing” and “battering.” The Weather Channel is doing wall to wall coverage, but they’re not showing live pictures.

The Weather Pixie on my sidebar is presiding over thunder and lightning, but she’s reporting little wind. The Jamaica News Gleaner seems more concerned with quarreling polital parties using the storm to run a-muck just a week before the big elections. At least it’s still online, during Ivan they went text-only, and for a while they were down alltogether. The Go-Jamaica Blog is full of stories and photos. 

Rob, Lisa, Captain Rob, RL, Petrona, Susan and the Crew. Clive, Selina and her family, and so many other friends and aquaintances. The list gets bigger every year.

Godspeed till morning, the sky will clear and the sun will shine.

Vinny

Here we go again! I just booked another Negril trip! Woo Hoo! I did the cha-ching thing with the nice Air Jamaica gentleman last night around 9PM. I was going to wait till next week to book, but the fares plummeted in the last few days. EWR (Newark NJ) to MBJ (Sangster Montego Bay) round trip $276.00, you can’t beat that! It beats my best rate $306.00 back in ‘04 by thirty bucks!

This trip is going to be a blast, (aren’t they all in thier own way?), my Dad, Vinny from Jersey, will be coming along for all the fun and frivolity this time. It’s his first time to Jamaica, but he’s been to the Caribbean many times. Over the years I’ve brought back souveniers, so he does have some proper attire, at least one Red Stripe shirt, and a tye-dye.

Plans? Plans? Of course I have plans. I used to plan each trip for hours at a sitting, but recently I realized, “I keep going back over and over, so why not continually plan, but in smaller chunks. Then just plug them is as needed.” 

So on this trip the only real planning will be for my Big Blue Cave Castle Bashment. The Sunday after we arrive we’re having sunset cookout at the Castle. I’m thinking, BBQ, beer, rum, music and maybe a webcast if I can set-it up with Rob @ RealNegril.com. I’m not sure who will be in town, but we should be able to round up a crowd.

By the way, you’re all invited.

We’ll do a few day trips of course. My Dad will love a Black River Safari with Rasta George, and then on to Appleton Estates for the rum tour. It’s corny, but I like it. A detour to The Pelican Bar is possible too. I’ve heard a lot about the place, but I’ve only seen it in pictures. Then there’s snorkeling, bar hopping and possibly a fishing trip with Captain Rob.

My Dad is with me for the first week and then I’m solo for the remainder. There’s nothing like it, two weeks at the Blue Cave Castle overlooking the hopefully placid Caribbean Sea.

I can’t wait, its just on the other side of September…

Vinny

The Jamaican Cowboy was a friend of mine, though I did not know him well. Like a piper calling us home to Negril, his music and his charm filled our living rooms every Sunday morning.

Our first meeting was on my first trip to Negril way back in February 1994. I didn’t know who he was when I met him, and thankfully he didn’t remember me because I was naked at the time. Let me explain…

Cowboy was the entertainment for Hedonism’s Island Picnic in those days. A girl I’d met on the Road to Negril bus ride asked if I wanted to go to the “Island Picnic” the next day. It’s been my experience, when a girl asks you to go to a naked picnic; you go! Flab be damned.

We ate, drank and jiggled to the syncopated, rockabilly-reggae beat all coming out of one man, and one guitar. All I can remember is thinking, “Man, dude makes that thing talk!”

I found Negril.com in late 2003, the message board, the Real Negril Sunday Webcast from Selina’s, and of course The Jamaican Cowboy. I remember scrambling to my memory box (a big plastic bin filled with my keepsakes) looking for my Hedo trip stuff, and right there on my Island Picnic Agenda, “Entertainment provided by The Jamaican Cowboy.” “Yeah, I remember that guy!”

By the time I got to Negril in April ’04 I was an official Boardie. I was consistently amazed with the quality and the sincerity the answers my newbie questions received.

I didn’t know how to act on my first live Sunday Morning Webcast. I wore my Philadelphia Eagles cap, ordered Jamaican Breakfast, and tried to figure out who was who. About halfway through my breakfast Meg (Tom & Meg from Wilmington) came over and asked “Are you Vinny from Philly?” I said yes, and she yelled to everyone in the joint, “Hey everyone, Vinny from Philly is here!”

At first I was kind of embarrassed, but within five minutes I was part of the crowd, part of the wonderful boardie family. I met Rob. Selina hugged me. Several people whose names I can’t remember bought me Bloody Marys, and Selina introduced me to Alex, The Jamaican Cowboy. I tried to tell him I was a big fan, but he would have none of it, I was moved by his modesty. He just smiled with those warm piercing eyes and began to play. He was much better in person.

When a person on the periphery of your life passes on, at least for me, it gives the most room for pause. Forcing you to look within yourself, to come to grips with the big questions. To take a look at life, at the life lost, or at least your impressions of that life, as a mirror or even a magnifying glass to your own. Like a distant relation, one you don’t see very often, but feel an attachment to. Standing at the back of the room during the wake, a partner to the family’s grief, yet somehow disconnected from it.

My eyes welled up reading Selina’s stoic report on the message board, the overtones of her sadness, her loss, and her tears bleed through the words catching me in the throat.

Cowboy’s passing also brings to light the true hardships our friends in Jamaica face every day. We see them in town, we trade with them, have a few Red Stripes, but it’s rare that we get a glimpse into their total life.

We take for granted the ease of life in the States, and in the Land of Maple Leafs. If I get a sniffle; I hit CVS for some medicine; if it holds on; I go to an excellent doctor right down the street, and then I only pay a ten-dollar co-pay.

My downstairs neighbor had a heart attack in 2005, he was ok, but it’s two years later he’s still bitching about the interminable thirteen minute EMS response time. There is a lot said about healthcare in the states, but with even the most basic emergency room care, Cowboy would have had more than a fighting chance.

Happy Trails Cowboy…

Thanks to Dreadneck & Lizzardbeth for the photos

Sunset Park Brooklyn to be exact. It’s a nice upscale Spanish neighborhood, a ground floor apartment, and only a few minutes from the Subway. I’m excited to make the move. My suburban Philadelphia existence needed some shaking up, so I decided to try something, and somewhere, completely different. It’s been years since I lived in a city.

It wasn’t a hard decision really, I work in Manhattan three of four days a week and the commute has been killing me. Moving closer to NYC is a way to get more productive time into my non-working life. My first plan was to move to Northern New Jersey, but Vinny from Paramus has no ring to it. Manhattan is too expensive, The Bronx is too scary, and Queens is too far out, so Brooklyn it is. There are a few bad neighborhoods, but most of the borough has gone through a re-birth with the real estate boom over the last half-dozen years.

I did my search for the place on Craig’s List, I love the site, and I’ve been a big fan for years, but I think this is the first time I’ve used it for something productive. I was amazed how easy it was, and by how many responses I received. I responded to, maybe, three dozen ads, and I got responses from about half.

Sure, some of them were like, “I’m sorry sir, but we don’t want some old guy for a roommate.” OK, I shouldn’t have responded to the 19yo female struggling artist, but she’s the one who put her picture in the ad! Most people were serious about renting, and only several were agencies scamming that they were real people.

In the end I found a place that agreed with me, with a roommate who I’m sure I can get along with, and the price was right. I only ended up looking at four or five places, most of them were decent, but I liked Sunset Park as soon as I climbed out of the subway.
I thought it would be cool, in a romantic, wanna-be writer sort of way, to live in Bed-Stuy, or Crown Heights, maybe even Flatbush or Cypress Hills, but I realized I’m too much of a wimp to live in the ghetto (I downloaded the song from I-Tunes).

I make the move at the end of the month, and now the only problem is dealing with all those Giants Fans

Vinny