Negril Notes

Blue Castles and White Sand – Part 3

January 5, 2006

Heading down to de beech

I was packed by mid-morning and already I knew leaving the Castle was a mistake. My only salvation was the new place had air conditioning to guard me from the oppressive August heat.

I sat on my balcony and tried to write but nothing was there. The suchness of Negril’s cliffs and culture make writing seem un-natural. Good writing would wrap its arms around my view and views in a timeless snapshot of complete reality, but today my words try too hard, wrenching this slice of reality from itself, forcing it into a shiny box to take home and share with friends.

I put down my journal, closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. Soon I’d slid deeply into the magical rhythms of this place. The waves against the cliff, children playing in an adjacent field, the ocean breeze on the Castle’s cool stone walls seemed to erase the boundaries between this and that, and of now and then.

I guess I’d fallen asleep, because the sun was overhead when Petrona came over to visit, the late morning sun was hot and my Red Stripe was lukewarm. We sat and didn’t speak for some time till the sound of my taxi pulling into the lot made her say, “Write nice tings now, Vinny from Philly.”

With a smile and a hug I headed down the hill for the beach part of my week in paradise.

I hit White Sands just about 1PM. I checked in and my driver helped me with my bags. He was a friend of a friend and had given me a good deal on the ride though the expected “friend” gratuity still brought the total up above average. At least he was on time and I didn’t have to haggle.

White Sands did not inspire. I tried, I really tried. As my dear old Irish mother would say, “If you don’t have anything nice to say …”

I partially blame myself. First of all I wanted to be near the beach, bad move. The rooms on the Garden Side were bright, airy and comfortable. I thought they were more expensive, but they were just nicer.

In previous stories I called the Yoga Center, “My Hut in the Jungle.” Banana Shout was, “My Mansion by the Sea,” and if Blue Cave Castle was to be, “My Fortress on the Cliffs,” then White Sands was to be “My Motel 6 by the Road.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of Motel 6, I’ve stayed in them all over the country, hell, you put a Waffle House in the parking lot like the one in south Houston near the Johnson Space Center, woo hoo! But I digress.

It’s just that I’ve come to expect some personality from my Jamaican hotel choices, not just basic accommodations. I usually get some heart, some of that Jamaican something. The Yoga Center had a natural energy that enlivened my spirit. Banana Shout had history and a rock star owner, not to mention the whole goat thing, and Blue Cave Castle, well, it’s a damn Pirates Castle, how cool is that! White Sands was a clean comfortable room at the lowest price of any nationally advertised chain. And they did keep the light on.

Ok, Sandals and Hedo were fun on certain levels too, but that’s for another day.

My room was like a cave. It was cold (I liked the AC), damp and dark. I had to keep the curtain on my patio window because it faced the main walkway to the beach for all the garden side people. My so called patio was a four by six fenced in pen, damn that sounds negative, but I’m being honest. Again I admit to booking on the internet so I guess I asked for the worst room in the entire resort.

There were some nice things; the beach bar was nice and very empty in mid-August. There were quite a few bikini clad (some un-clad) Italian women flitting around. They didn’t seem very friendly, but that may have been caused by my incessant Godfather references (take the Spliff, leave the Cannoli).

I love the beach sellers! Are there more than usual at slow season, or are there just less marks per square foot of sand? I think they’re fun, I don’t sunbathe, I rarely swim, but I love to walk along the water lost in my thoughts, and reacting to their pitches like a verbal Aikido match.

I tend to be pretty dismissive of drug peddlers, and the ones who persist after a “no, thank you” get a little South Philly thrown their way. I understand most are just trying to eek out a living, and almost all of them have Red Stripes on ice, so they’re not all bad.

I enjoyed this section of Negril. It was great for long walks on the beach or on Beach Road checking out resorts, shops and restaurants along the way. Other than Selina’s I didn’t eat at anywhere more than once, not even 3Dives!

That first afternoon I explored White Sands, like the rest of Negril it was damn near empty. The pool was nice, clean and well kept with a smattering of sexy topless Italian women in thongs. Unfortunately the smattering of Italian men in thongs was a bit more than I could take.

Something I learned about Italian women, maybe European women in general. Unlike your average American woman they’re sexy! Bold statement I know, let me explain. They allow themselves to be sexy, sexy is ok, they know men are looking and they enjoy it even though most of them don’t have the figures to “let it all hang out,” but that was ok too.

American women at least to a certain age, have an attitude about being ogled. “What you lookin’ at?” Which makes you feel like a pervert for looking at a prominently displayed pair of gazongas (boobs, bazookas, sweater meats, pick your poison.) What else am I supposed to do? I’m male, so sue me! As I’ve gotten older my looking may have decreased some, though I’m looking forward to being a dirty old man.

Next it was off to the beach, more sexy Europeans and more male butt floss. There should be standards of weight and body hair that must be met before being sent a Speedo catalog.

White Sands has this strange but cool free standing balcony platform right off the bar at the edge of the beach. An older woman from Toledo explained it for sunbathing “au natural” so one could be discreet while still on the beach. Thankfully she was clothed while we had this conversation.

I liked it because it gave a great vantage point. Its twelve foot elevation allowed you could see the entire seven miles of beach. A few days later I spent sunrise there. I could see the entire beach come to life, joggers, fishermen, and people sneaking back from sleeping in places they shouldn’t have.

I like the action on the beach, but the peacefulness and the ocean access from the cliffs is winning out these days. It’s something about the ocean being so close, not the island gently sloping to the sea, but twenty feet of ocean right at your doorstep. You gotta try it!

That night I watched the sunset from the beach bar with Aaron and Kathy, an older couple from Maine, they talked like the Gordon’s Fisherman and finished each others sentences like those couples in “When Harry Met Sally.”

They were seasoned travelers on their first trip to Negril, I sat back and fed off the excitement in their stories, but they were leaving in the morning so we exchanged emails and made it an early night. I headed back to my cave, um… room.

Stay Tuned

Vinny

Filed under: Negril,Writing