Last week brought two new visitors to the island, my Dad and my sister Becca. Although I'd had many assurances that on the flight down they would be forming an idea of what activities they wanted to do and places they wanted to see, that wouldn't end up happening. Turns out I don't accept "pretty much everything you suggested sounds good" as a helpful response. So after meeting them at my Dad's hotel (my apartment isn't quite big enough to host more than one) and walking them around the streets of New Kingston, we worked on devising a plan. The easy part would be what we'd be doing the first night, since I had already picked up tickets for a football game (for North Americans, you can go ahead and read that as 'soccer'). Getting the tickets was a new experience for me, since the week before the game I found out that Jamaican Football Federation neither sold tickets themselves or knew where they would be sold. I asked around, and one of my security guards offered to keep an ear out for information on the radio (a much more common way of spreading news about events than the internet, which proves difficult when you're not always sure which station to listen to for which events). Two days before the event, the girl I'm renting my apartment from found out where I could pick up tickets. On my way there, I naturally passed a large truck decked out in Jamaican flags promoting the game on speakers and announcing where tickets could be bought. Signs had also been put up on the street that day, so I took it as an indication that just maybe I was jumping the gun trying to buy tickets a week in advance.
Jamaica's Reggae Boyz were taking on their rivals, Trinidad and Tobago's Soca Worriers. While the game didn't count for points, it did count for bragging rights. Final score was 1-0 for Jamaica.
One thing I'm learning is that blow-up-beating-sticks are popular in many countries (flashback to Independence Day in Bogota, minus being attacked by Becca)
For the rest of the week there was talk of visiting Blue Mountain, going to Port Royal, golfing (Dad), beaches (Becca) and then on the weekend, hitting up Montego Bay and Negril. However, it didn't take long for the realization to come about that much of this wouldn't be possible. The rain from Tropical Storm Nicole had done a number on a lot of areas, including the north coast. My friend informed me that MoBay was still dealing with washed out roads, and Negril was still cleaning up beaches and repairing buildings - both would likely have closed attractions. As well, a forecast calling for rain made Blue Mountain unappealing. Even the beaches near Kingston were unsuitable for clean safe swimming. So a revised plan was necessary.
During the week my Dad still made it out for a round of golf (although it would have been nice if he'd listened to his daughters and considered sun screen), and Becca made due with the pool at the hotel. They both went to some of the local attractions including the Bob Marley Museum (which I may make it to some day...if I ever get over the $20 price tag and inability to take photos), Devon House (famous for it's ice cream) and down to Port Royal (with an old fort and stories of the earthquake that sunk part of the city). When it came to the weekend, my friend was kind enough to arrange discounted rooms at an all-inclusive. Not exactly in line with the original plan, but it was the best back-up plan we could come up with. My Dad and Becca headed up Thursday morning, stopping at Dunns River Falls along the way, a popular attraction where tourists climb up falls. Becca opted to play photographer and hang out at the beach while my Dad made his way to the top. I was sitting in my cubicle all day - sounds fair, right? To make up for it, I woke up at 5am on Friday to catch the early bus out to Ocho Rios, and from there I caught a minibus heading for MoBay that passed by the resort. While all-inclusive places aren't something I would consider 'my kind of thing', it's hard not to find anything enjoyable about 30 hours of indulging for a mere $65.
Dunns River Falls, with a throng of eager tourists waiting to make the climb.
On the way up, everyone starts off holding hands. That doesn't last, but complete strangers continue to help each other navigate the falls, with a guide in the mix to keep people on the right path.
We made use of the various highlights of the resort, including hanging out on a small island across from the beach, pool played in the pool on a table covered in astrotruf, taking some kayak-like-objects out to sea and your typical drinking/eating/sleeping. It was a bit quiet since it’s still the off-season, so aside from some rousing games of bingo and a failed attempt at yoga class (hard to do when no instructor or other participants show up...) we didn’t put much effort into group activities. We headed back to Kingston Saturday night, and after brunch on Sunday we said our goodbyes.
The only downside to this lovely scene being there's no bar services at the beach...
To the right of the island is where Becca would later attempt to take my life in a near-disastrous kayaking incident. Luckily my mad balance skills (and the anti-tipping nature of the kayaks) saved me. Due to my Canadian heritage, this was also not my first in a kayak/canoe assault.
Becca and I outside our rooms. Not exactly an ocean view with the roof of the kitchen and a swampy looking wooded lot next door. But we did have that smell of bacon in the morning...afternoon...and evening...
My Dad out on some rocks to watch the sunset, which without thinking I had assumed would be setting over the water. Turns out I often forget to re-orient myself geographically. In his hands you'll notice yet another possibly-illegal-to-take-into-Canada wooden walking stick.
Inside the resort, the first swimming pool with the trademark star from it's former identity as the Starfish Resort. This worked well in my favour as there are three Breezes resorts between Ochi and MoBay, and knowing I was heading to the Breezes-formerly-Starfish helped with getting dropped off at the right one.
I would find out later that the drug sniffing dogs took an interest in Becca at the airport. Who are you traveling with? My father. Why are you in Jamaica? Visiting my sister, she works here. Who does she work for? The United Nations. Where do you work? A correction facility for youth. She said overall they were nice about it, and decided it was probably second hand from a taxi or something. Well, what would a trip to Jamaica be without accusations of illegal drug use?
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