Negril Notes

Yoga Center Trip April 2004 – Part 6

February 5, 2005

Wednesday in Negril

I woke Wednesday morning to realize I’d left my camera at Kuyaba so I got up and headed there to see if it was still around. To my pleasant surprise it was, I love Jamaica! Patty and her friend Lisa were already awake and eating breakfast, I visited for a while, then off they were for a day of shopping or some such adventure. The rest of the crew were going on the “Wild Thing” for a day of snorkeling somewhere up near Green Island. They invited me to join them, but I’m not the snorkeling type and I didn’t want to completely barge in on their vacation.

Since I was so close, I decided to walk over to Selina’s for breakfast. It was much quieter this today than it was on Sunday. I got a cup of coffee and turned to watch the morning street scene. I could have sat there all day. I’d already missed the free yoga class, and a low key day was on my menu.

Returning to the Yoga Center a jerk stand appeared right in front of the property. It hadn’t been there all week so I went over to check it out. It looked kind of like one of those dirty water hot dog stands you see in any big American city, but with distinctly Jamaican touches. Kenny the Jerk Cart Guy was busy getting his product ready for the lunchtime rush and had little time for my questions. I’d spent twenty years in the restaurant business and I was impressed with his skills. Not a wasted movement, the utility of every piece of equipment was orchestrated by years of practice. This wasn’t what Kenny did, this was who he was! I decided not to cause further distraction and promised to be out for lunch.

“Just follow your nose and your watering mouth!! I Jerk is the best in Negril!” he shouted as I entered the Yoga Center gates.

By now the yoga class was in full swing, again! So I went into my cottage to roll a spliff and do some cerebral yoga. I was about halfway through, and feeling pretty good, when I realized copious amounts of sweet ganja smoke were wafting out my window and directly into the yoga class.

“Busted, Dude!!” I giggled to myself as I skulked past the yoga pavilion. I guess ganja smoke isn’t very shocking in Jamaica because no one gave me a second glance. I cracked open a Ting, and sat sphincter eyed at the breakfast table while my friends joined me. We talked about our adventures here in Jamaica, who we were and about our lives in the real world, though Brenna was still being mysterious.

By noon the sweet smoky aroma from Kenny’s sizzling creations filled the air, and my stomach growled in turn. Kenny greeted me like an old friend as I walked the twenty yards from the gate to his roadside bistro. In the shade of the Yoga Center fence were two older women sitting on five gallon plastic buckets eating voraciously with their fingers moaning and groaning in a kind of culinary orgasm.

“I’ll have what they’re having!” I joked over Kenny’s head as he sadly reported he was all out of Jerk Chicken but had a few nice pieces of his special, best in town, Jerk Pork with rice, peas, and coco bread. I took a second look at the two bone sucking sexagenarians and ordered two portions, one for now and one for later.

HOOOO WEEEEE!, it was heaven on a plate! Well, actually it wasn’t even on a plate, it was ingeniously wrapped in tin foil in a way that kept everything separate and hot. I offered Yasmine my second platter but she was too concerned as to where he washed his hands. Fearing nothing I dug in with both hands and was soon heading towards my own peak of jerky spicy wonderfulness.

It’s hard to explain an authentic Jamaican Jerk meal. The spiciness and flavor of the meat builds as you eat more and more. It could overwhelm you, but then you take a mouthful of rice and peas, which is like the opposite of spicy, but still flavorful, straightens you right out. I have no idea what’s in coco bread, but it’s as addictive as cocaine. Add a frosty Red Stripe and you have the perfect meal.

Sated as ever, I took a post coital nap in the Hammock hut, I love Negril!

I missed another sunset, damn!

I rolled out to the breakfast table around eight o’clock to find Brenna and Alan all ready to go to Alfred’s Beach Party Extravaganza, Yasmine wasn’t feeling well so she stayed behind. The sign said the party started at eight-thirty so we hung out till about nine before taking the long walk up the beach.

I took the lead as we walked up the dark beach claiming to be the protector of our little crew which made Brenna laugh.

“I’ll do just fine,” Brenna said, “I’m trained to protect myself.”

“Professional Wrestler!” I shouted, “That’s what you do!! I knew it!!”

“If you must know, I’m a soldier in the Canadian Army.” She stated plainly, “Sometimes it freaks people out when I tell them that.”

“Hell! You protect us!” I said as I ran around behind her.

We all had a good laugh, and we talked the rest of the three quarter mile trip about all things military and Brenna’s love for and commitment to her role and her profession. Chicks in cammo with guns! That’s even sexier than the whole lesbian hay bailer thing!

Alfred’s Beach Party Extravaganza was a blast! Alan wasn’t much of a dancer, but he could sway with the best of them. Brenna danced with every guy in the place, it was a good time. There were local reggae bands playing with DJs playing in-between. Beers go down very easily when you’re reggae dancing.

Speaking of going down easily when you’re dancing, I was surprised to see the amount of Jamaican girls plying their trade in the bar. So much so that I figured I was probably just being a pervert, then while dancing with this one curvy young lady she whispered into my ear, “So you wanna fuk mi?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe!” I replied, not missing a beat, “But I can’t.”

She looked deeply into my eyes and said, “Am I too young? Are my boobies too small? Let me get my friend.”

“No, no, you’re perfect, beyond perfect even, but I just can’t,” I stammered.

Like a fisherman with a snapped line, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, only to repair and recast. I turned to see Brenna and Alan snickering at me. Brenna seemed glad that I declined, as I went into the whole, I have a daughter her age, and the respect for women thing. Dost thou protest too much? She kissed me on the forehead, in an “Awww, such a cute little old guy” way, and went to buy me a beer to cool the flames.

Soon the night was ending, Brenna headed off with some guy friends, and Alan and I walked back to the Yoga Center.

When we got back, we stalked through the garden seeking the elusive Negril Giant Crab. They were all over! They were huge, like really huge! I was simultaneously amazed and freaked out!
I projected back to Yasmine’s story of them running all over and I hastened back to the safety of my cottage. That night as I lay in bed I could hear them creeping and crawling outside! I had thought those sounds were the owner’s cat, but no, they were giant monster crabs!! Someone needs to call National Geographic!

One Love,
Vinny