Our friends who were married in Jamaica visit there yearly on their anniversary. We’ve been trying to arrange a trip with them for a long time, but the scheduling never worked out. We finally planned far enough in advance to make it happen in 2013.

We spent part of the time staying with them up on the cliffs in Negril, then several days on Seven Mile Beach. Our final night (Matt’s birthday!) was spend at an all-inclusive in Montego Bay. We’ll never make the all-inclusive mistake again. Apart from that, it was a fantastic, relaxing trip, full of ocean, amazing Jamaican food, and plenty of local rum and beer.

We’ve already decided that next time we go to Jamaica, we’re just staying on the cliffs. It’s probably the friendliest place in the world.

(The entire photoset is here on Flickr.)

Read from the beginning below, or jump to each day:

• Sat 2/16: Arriving on the Cliffs
• Sun 2/17: The Angry Ocean, and a Restaurant in the Rainforest
• Mon 2/18: Jenga
• Tue 2/19: Cliff-Jumping and Poolside Napping
• Wed 2/20: Moving to Seven Mile Beach
• Thu 2/21: Reggae at Bourbon Beach
• Fri 2/22: The Red Dragon
• Sat 2/23: That Time we Spent Almost the Entire Day at Negril Bars
• Sun 2/24: Our Final Negril Sunset
• Mon 2/25: Our First and Last-Ever Stay at an All-Inclusive
• Tue 2/26: Jamaica to Minneapolis via Atlanta, and a Storm Near-Miss

We got up at 6 and drove to the park-and-ride lot south of the airport. My parents were picking up my car so we didn’t have to worry about it being towed in a snow emergency, but I didn’t want to make them get up so early. I emailed them the location, and we headed to the light rail. It was freezing, but there was no way we were bringing winter jackets to Jamaica… I had sandals with wool socks, a hoodie over a tshirt, and jeans that I could roll up when we arrived. Also, the all-important flipflops in the carry-on.

We took advantage of the Medallion bag drop-off, which was very fast. The airport was really busy already with all the cruise passengers heading to Florida. I had to check both bags in my name, because for some reason Delta doesn’t think Jamaica qualifies as an international flight. We went through security quickly, and then headed to meet Kris, Orsi, and the kids at French Meadow for breakfast. Since we were already on vacation, we celebrated with mimosas.

We headed to the gate after an hour or so. I changed into flipflops, rolled my jeans up, and boarded the plane. I was READY for Jamaica.

We had exit row seats, and Matt took the window (which meant I got it on the way back). I knitted, did sudoku, ate the sandwiches we’d prepared for lunch, and chatted with the guy next to us. It was his first time in Jamaica, and he seemed really wary of the whole idea. His wife insisted on it, though. He also couldn’t believe we were going for 11 days. He told me they were staying at the Grand Palladium, which was basically the opposite of what we were doing. It looked incredibly fancy, but I’m pretty sure there isn’t a whole lot of actual Jamaica there.

We landed in Montego Bay around 2:30, and went to stand in the gigantic line for customs and immigration. (Note: when Delta tells you to fill out one form per family, don’t believe them. Jamaica requires one per person, unlike the US.) Kris and Orsi got to go ahead with the kids, so we watched them wistfully as they headed to the front of the line. The room was way too warm, and I was dying for water.

We finally got past the crabby immigration lady, and went to pick up our bags. Customs was easy, and from there we headed into the room full of shuttle company booths. K&O had pre-arranged a shuttle, so we paid cash ($50 each roundtrip, which wasn’t bad at all) to get on the bus with them. Orsi and I boarded with the kids and the bags, and Kris and Matt headed to the open-air bar to buy beer for the journey – this is ESSENTIAL, don’t forget it! – as well as patties, a spice bun, and coco bread. The driver, Junior, was excited that Kris had picked up Dragon Stout instead of Red Stripe.

Our busmates were two girls who seemed a little too proper to be going to Negril (we talked to them a bit, and they were at least funny), and a bunch of Iowans in the back, including an old guy in a “co-ed naked tanning” tshirt. The Iowans were all pretty quiet, and also jealous of our beer. It was raining in MoBay, but quickly cleared up as we left town.

We made the usual stop halfway to Negril so that we could supply our every need (i.e. beer, snacks, and weed for those who wanted it). The Iowans stocked up on something like 300 beers. I got drinks for the four of us, and we all piled back on the bus. Junior pointed out a bunch of interesting things along the way, and had details about all the towns we were passing through. We saw a ton of Jamaican goats and roosters, but didn’t expect to see camels – apparently they’d added them as an attraction at the Dolphin Encounter. We also passed the Grand Palladium, a gigantic sprawling walled resort in the middle of nowhere.

The farther we got, the more beer bottles we heard rolling around in the back of the shuttle, and the more boisterous the Iowans got. We were pretty sure they managed to down all 300 of those beers on the hour-long ride. We got to Negril, and dropped the uptight girls at Riu Palace, one of the fancy all-inclusives at the far end of the beach. We were not at all surprised they were staying there. We then dropped the Iowans at their hotel on the beach, and helped Junior clean up all the beer bottles rolling around. (He had told the Iowans to leave them, since they’re returnable.) Next it was our turn, so we headed up the cliffs to Samsara.

K&O have stayed there on their anniversary every year for six years. We figured we’d stay with them for part of the trip, then go down to Samsara’s sister hotel on the beach. The idea of not staying on the beach at all didn’t sit that well with us, though we’d later learn that it wasn’t as big a problem as we suspected.

The doorman, Michael, greeted them excitedly as we arrived, and they introduced us to him. We checked in, and headed to our room. I instantly fell in love with the place; one side of it is a series of bungalows attached together in pairs, and there are four or five small bungalows on stilts facing the ocean. Each of them had a two-person swing underneath, and their own recliners. Matt and I had a bungalow in the back corner of the property, with two hammocks out front on the porch. It was a huge room with two beds, and octagon-shaped. The bathroom was also large, with a step-down shower stall. We were a little worried about the lack of A/C, but it turned out that the open windows and ceiling fan made it very comfortable at night.

We unpacked a bit, then headed to Kris and Orsi’s room to meet them. They had a room facing the pool (which did have A/C, so we’ll consider that next time). They had already greeted half the hotel (it’s the kind of place where the same people visit at the same time every year), so we left the property and headed down the road to Kris’ favorite bar on earth, No Limit. We’d tried to find it on our previous visit, but were unsuccessful.

They had also been going there every year, and had become friends with the owners, Byron and Nav. Nav is a teacher, and the kids love hanging out with her. They would often stay and hang out with Nav while the adults went to dinner or sat at the bar. Kris introduced us to them, and I ordered a Red Stripe from Byron. Matt asked for white rum, and ended up with Appleton and Pepsi instead. Americans don’t tend to drink the overproof, apparently.

The place was tiny… the bar sat maybe eight, with a couple of small tables in the corner. There were the traditional Jamaican icons framed all over the place, overproof ads with near-naked women, and also Tupac. That made us instantly love it.

There was a domino table out front with a group of locals playing, and it’s so close to the street that the person in the outside chair has to watch for traffic.

The bar back was fantastic, too. Also, Kris told Byron the place looked bigger, and he explained that he had built out EACH END of the bar by a few feet on either side. Byron apparently loves his construction projects.

No Limit is also home to Ziggy, the angriest parrot in Jamaica. He lives in a cage out behind the bar, and during the day hangs out in the tree near his home. Late in the afternoon, he climbs to the top branches and screeches his head off. Byron said there are some wild (well, released) parrots who live in Negril, so he’s just calling to his friends.

Kris went outside to see Tony, the guy with a resident oil-drum grill, and ordered fish and chicken. We went next door to the convenience store (Lance’s), and got plantain chips and a cheese bun for me. We sat around drinking and waiting for the jerk to be ready, because it took half an hour or so. Once it was ready, we gathered up our food and the kids and headed out. The menfolk stopped into Lance’s again for a bottle of rum, beer, and ice, and we all convened on the patio outside the bar at Samsara for dinner.

The kids put on a dance show after dinner, and then Kris went to put them to bed. It was starting to get too windy to play cards outside the bar, so we relocated inside the bar. I thought it was weird to walk in there with our own drinks, but they said they didn’t care.

We played hearts for a while, and finally got annoyed at the incredibly loud Canadian talking to people at the bar. Orsi headed to bed, so Kris and Matt and I walked back to No Limit. The bar was far more crowded that time of night. We got a couple Red Stripes, then wandered across the street to Pee Wee’s, a cute tiki hut of a bar overlooking the ocean. The bartender offered to sell us weed, and we politely declined. He then got out a huge stick of it and passed it around for everyone at the bar to smell. The other bartender was a Canadian woman who visited Negril the same time every year and apparently helped out around the place. She was pretty entertaining.

We went back to No Limit for one more drink, then headed back to the hotel to sleep. A huge storm blew up in the middle of the night, and it was so loud on our roof (which I’m pretty sure was metal) that I was convinced it was hailing. That wasn’t entirely feasible in Jamaica, however.

We got up around 10:30, and could hear the wind still blowing like crazy outside. The rain had stopped, at least. I had a pretty intense round of paranoia when I saw a dead cockroach under the bed (there’s no avoiding them in tropical places, but you still prefer to not see them), and discovered that we both had bug bites all over our legs. I inspected the bed for bedbugs, and found zero evidence of them. It was probably just mosquitoes.

We made crappy instant coffee and headed down to the pool while K&O and the kids went to breakfast. The pool had a wall around it so the chairs were somewhat protected from the wind. The staff was gathering up everything that could possibly fly away from the entire patio area, because the weather was apparently expected to get worse.

I started reading Islands in the Stream by Hemingway, which is basically the absolute perfect book to read on an island. It was good distraction from the Euro guy across the pool who was proudly showing off his taint to the world.

The waves were getting higher, splashing up over the cliffs and pouring onto the patio. It was really entertaining to watch.

Kris and Orsi showed up with beers, so we hung out drinking them with our feet in the pool. The kids were napping in their bathing suits so they’d be ready to swim right away when they woke up.

When they woke up, we all went to swim for a while, then spent time in the hot tub watching the crazy waves. Around 2:30, we climbed out and headed to our room to shower and change so we could have lunch and/or dinner.

(Our room was in the back right, with the hammocks out front.)

Because nobody would want to hurry right to a meal, we went to No Limit first.

We inspected some of Jamaica’s many roots drinks, and had beers at the bar. I took a bunch of pictures of Bally hanging out there, too.

We met Nav, and got her advice on good vegetarian options in the cliffs. The kids hung out with her, playing with stuff on the front porch. Ziggy was sitting up in the tree napping.

The four of us were sitting at the bar talking to a couple from Maryland who were cycling around Jamaica, when we heard a loud rumbling coming up the street. It was the One Love bus, a weekly pub crawl (and the reason that No Limit was open earlier in the day than usual). We grabbed our beers and headed out to the house in back as all the (mostly Canadian) tourists from the beach started to pour in.

After a while they wandered out back to visit Ziggy. The bus driver got out a mop and held the handle up to him, and he climbed on board. They took a bunch of pictures, while being warned to not touch him if they wanted to survive the day. A couple people asked if we lived there, which was kind of confusing.

After the bus left for the next place, we played dominoes out front for a while. Kris got the chair in the street.

Finally, it was time to head to dinner. We went next door to Lance’s shop, and K&O’s friend called a cab for us. We all piled in and headed up into the hills to a place called Just Natural. It had moved recently from along the road back into the rainforest.

The place was unreal. There was a small building with the kitchen and some tables up front, and then trails leading back into the forest with other tables scattered around. Everything was very makeshift and fascinating.

There were fruit trees everywhere, and potted vegetables and herbs all over the place.

We picked a table under a shelter, which turned out to be a good decision later when it started raining. We alternated between hanging out at the table and wandering around on the trails looking at the plants.

The bathroom was made of bamboo and tarps, with an open top. The toilet was a normal commode, but they had also fashioned a urinal out of an upside-down gallon bottle. We took turns visiting it just because it was so awesome.

There was a bowl of tamarind on the table, and a bunch of homemade hot sauce. We ordered drinks first, then food.

One of the owners showed us the kids’ play area she’d built out of logs and a half-pipe. At the bottom was a mattress so the kids didn’t hurt themselves. It was great.

We had an excellent meal. I ordered callaloo and cheese pasta, and drank rum and mango juice. Toward the end of dinner it started raining, so the other diners out in the rainforest had to scramble to find a sheltered spot. After we were done, we headed up front to the little shop; Matt bought a bottle of their hot sauce, and Orsi got earrings. We hung around waiting for our cab for a while, and headed back down to the hotel.

The bar had a karaoke night with a wandering reggae band, and the very drunk Canadians were enjoying the hell out of it. We sat outside the bar again and watched the waves slamming into the cliffs, even more intensely than they had that morning. Once the bar started closing down, we went to our room to play cards on the patio. Kris wore the awesome cap we’d brought him from home; Matt had had it since he was a kid, and wanted to pass it on to a true Michigan State fan. The kids hung out in our room watching movies on the iPad, then fell asleep.

We switched to dominoes after a while, and then K&O headed back to their room. Matt and I watched Jamaican music videos for a while, and the highlight of that was seeing a reggae version of Phil Collins’ “One More Night”. Seriously amazing.

We got up a little after 9 and met up with our friends for breakfast. We walked up the road to Jackie’s place, but it appeared to be closed even though there weas a breakfast menu on the wall. We hung around for a bit to see if anyone showed up.

Nobody seemed to be around, so we walked up the hill a little way to look around.

There were a few people up working, and guys passing on motorcycles. Mostly it was just us and the wild dogs, though.

I decided I wanted to own the Hype Bar:

We went back to the main road and kept going toward another place they’d been before. It was the first time I noticed the huge castle overhanging the cliffs, too.

Jenny’s Cakes had a full breakfast selection, plus cakes. A ton of them. It was also billed alternately as the Country Bar (businesses in Negril seem to have multiple interchangeable names, as far as we could tell). I wanted to cry a little when I heard “Chicken Fried” coming from inside the building.

We got a picnic table out in the yard and ordered a cake plate for the kids. We got super-strong coffee with condensed cream. Delicious. Also, our server was hilarious. We loved her a lot.

I had a callaloo omelet, and Matt got this feast with saltfish, ackee, and four different starches:

On the way back to our hotel, we stopped in at Pee Wees for a rum punch. They made them different than most places, more like a smoothie. We hung out at the bar there overlooking the ocean for a while.

We stopped at the convenience store again and talked to Pila while the menfolk went inside for beer, rum, and ice. We took all that back to the hotel and sat in the wading pool with our refreshments while the kids swam. The sea was much calmer than the previous day.

Kris gave us a tour of the cliffs on the Samsara property. We saw blue crabs scrambling around the rocks, and a stairway and ladder down to a good snorkeling spot. There’s also a big hole in the cliffs that forms a natural Jacuzzi, and it was pretty full from the waves. We then headed to the main pool to swim for a while, followed by the hot tub. Then we headed to the room to shower and change.

They dropped off a coconut at our room, so Bally hung out with his new pal:

Kris headed to Hi-Lo, the big grocery store in town, and Matt and I took some beers to a table on the patio where we could play dominoes. We had Red Stripe Bold (which is delicious), a ton of water (I was very grateful to the bar there for always having a giant cooler of ice water available), and ate some plantain chips. Matt won, but just that once.

Kris and Orsi showed up, and we went to the Samsara bar to take advantage of 2-for-1s. We hung out at our table waiting for sunset, because it was the first clear day we’d had there. While we were sitting there, we heard a loud SPLAT and found half a needlefish laying on the ground a few feet away, where a bird had dropped it.

Sunset did not disappoint. We went down to our end of the hotel grounds to watch, along with several other guests.

Matt insisted I call this “The Old Man and the Sea”, obviously:

After sunset, we crossed the street to Pablo’s for dinner. While we waited for food, everyone practiced their Usain Bolt.

Matt had hot wings, salad, conch soup, and curry goat. I had a huge vegetarian platter with callaloo and rice and peas.

After dinner, Orsi took the kids to the hotel and we headed back to No Limit with Kris, of course. I had rum punch, and we watched curling on TV with a guy from Saskatchewan. I was entertained by the resident wild dog who circled the bar constantly.

Kris and I played Jenga, and I won. He left around 10:30, so Matt and I went across the street to Pee Wee’s. There was a band playing there, and the bar was pretty crowded. We ended up playing Jenga there, too, because apparently that’s the thing you do at bars in Negril. (Note to self: buy Jenga.) We had a whole bunch of rum punches and stayed too late, but it was nice to see a place that was still hopping late at night.

I woke up at 10:30 and kind of wanted to die from the previous night’s rum punches. I put on my bathing suit and a dress, and we went to find Kris and Orsi on the patio. I decided to claim one of the poolside covered beds while they went to get patties and run errands; I knew that meant they’d be gone forever, but I didn’t care. My bed was comfortable.

I dozed on and off, drank a Dragon Stout Spitfire very slowly, and read my book for the almost three hours they were gone. They finally showed up with a soy patty for me. Matt said they’d also stopped at the ATM at ScotiaBank, hung out at the Canoe Bar, and stopped into another bar owned by a friend. That’s exactly how I figured the errands would go.

We hung out in the pool for a while, then the hot tub. After that, we went to the far end of the property and swam around the reef with snorkel masks on. Near sunset, it was time for cliff-jumping. Kris tore off his shorts and ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped, much to the delight of the drunk Canadians at the bar.

I watched them jumping for a while, then decided it was finally time to try it myself. From the jumping spot, you can see a round sandy gap in the reef, but there were still plenty of rocks down below. I was worried that I wouldn’t jump far enough and would hit them, but Kris swore it was deeper than it looked. I took a few steps back and jumped, and felt for a second like it was actually scarier than skydiving. But it was awesome, and there’s a ladder to make climbing out easy.

For dinner we decided to try Ciao Jamaica, the restaurant across the street on the other half of Samsara’s property. It’s a cute two-level place with a balcony wrapped around the building. We got a big table indoors, and ordered cocktails and dinner. I had a cheese and callaloo patty, and we shared bruschetta. Our server insisted that Kris call her by her name instead of “Miss”, which was pretty amusing.

After dinner, Orsi and the kids headed back to the hotel and we went with Kris to No Limit. We had a couple beers and sat around watching Tru TV in Spanish with the other people at the bar. Hearing the old Jamaicans crack up over dudes falling down on TV was hilarious.

A fight erupted at the domino table outside, and Byron got so annoyed that he went out and gathered up the dominoes. As the guys playing dispersed, he brought the tiles inside, shoved them in a plastic bag, and tightly wrapped them and stashed them under the bar. Once things cooled off later he went to bring them back out, and he’d hidden them so well that he had trouble finding them again.

We headed back to the hotel early, around 11:30. It had been a long exhausting day of doing very little!

We slept really, really hard Wednesday night, and it was glorious. We got up at 9:15, met up with everyone, and headed to Jackie’s again to see if it was open. It was not, so we went to Pablo’s for breakfast instead. I had an egg sandwich and coffee. The kids split a meal, and Orsi had a Red Stripe, the breakfast of champions.

After our meal, we went back to the hotel to pack up. Since we were only moving hotels, I made very little effort to pack in an orderly fashion. Everything got tossed in my giant suitcase, and we rolled them down to Kris and Orsi’s room and went to check out. Since it was 10, the bus was there to take everyone to our hotel on the beach, but we didn’t want to head down there yet. Plus it’s only about $6 for a cab, so it’s easy.

We headed to the hotel bar to hang out. Our favorite bartender, Sharona, was working. When she called Matt ‘Ginger’, we almost fell over laughing. She looked pretty proud of herself. We sat around there for a long time, and Kris told us to go tell them that we wanted a cab ride from Chunky at 2pm. We did that, and went back down to sit around.

Round about 2, we went back up to the front and grabbed a cab. (I don’t think the driver was named Chunky, but that’s fine.) He dropped us off at our new hotel, Legends, and we checked in. We couldn’t get into the room til 3, so we left the bags with the front desk and headed to the beach. Since we didn’t have our bathing suits yet, we obviously had to go hang out at the bar for a while.

We were very near Yellow Bird, a place we’d liked the last time we were there, despite the Cornhusker flags hanging all over the place. We decided to partake in their signature drink (one of the four or five that are 2-for-1 ALL DAY): the Dirty Banana. (It’s not ice cream, it’s blended banana and juice and such.)

Round about 3pm, we walked back to the hotel and got our room key. We were right near the front desk, on a long walkway that led to the restaurant, bar, and beach. We had a nice patio with two adirondack chairs and a table, and our room had air conditioning and a gigantic bed with two tables built into the sides for our luggage. We also discovered we could get free wifi on our patio from Kuyaba, the resort across the way.

We unpacked a little, changed, and headed to the beach. We swam for a long time, then hung out looking at the ocean and drinking beer in beach chairs. We decided to stay for sunset, since it was a tradition.

We got up to leave right afterward, and K&O and the kids were just arriving for dinner. We showered quickly, changed, and walked down the beach to find dinner. Nothing looked super-promising except for Kuyaba, but that was right next door so we kept walking. We finally decided on Bar-B-Barn, a big place with a firepit set up on the beach. We got a table right away, then some waters, and then proceeded to wait FOREVER, even though the place wasn’t busy at all.

We finally got a drinks, then ordered dinner. I asked for the Ital stew, which I was really excited about, and of course they were out. She said they could do rasta pasta with ackee instead. We got pumpkin soup, which was great, and then suddenly nothing happened again for a very long time. There’s Jamaica time, but this was something far worse. It was confusing.

Finally the food arrived, and everything was cold or not great. Except for my pasta, which was fantastic. Atti ate a whole pile of ribs and chicken, so he and I seemed to be the only ones satisfied with our meal. I started to worry that all the food was going to be like that on the beach.

On the way back, the men headed to the convenience store while headed back up the beach. The kids did cartwheels in front of the hotel, and Orsi introduced me to Michael, the awesome security guard at Legends. We sat around on the patio while the kids watched movies in our room. Kris and Matt returned with beer and this special drink for Matt:

They headed back to Samsara around midnight, and Matt and I went to bed, immediately after watching a slow, halting version of the screaming goats on YouTube.

We got up shortly after 9 and got ready for the beach. The kids knocked on our door to let us know they’d arrived on the shuttle, so we headed down there to meet them. Michael pointed out their chairs to us, so we hung out there for a while as they swam. After a while, we decided to join them.

There was a partially-eaten dead starfish in the water, so of course Kris had to throw it around. Blech.

Once we were done swimming, Orsi decided she wanted to walk up the beach. (This was code for “go to bars”, apparently.) Kris didn’t feel like going, so she and I headed off in the direction of Yellow Bird. We stopped and experienced the joy of a Dirty Banana. After those were done, we walked up further and found Drifters, where their friends tended bar. It’s set off behind some properties on the beach, so it’s not easy to find.

Orsi introduced me to them. They’re a slightly older couple, and they’re awesome. The husband is Scottish, and the wife British. We had a beer there, and saw one of the original Drifters making phone calls at the bar, arranging for a karaoke night on Sunday. I was sad Matt wasn’t with me, because I know he’d want to see him.

On the way back, we stopped at Yellow Bird again and got two 2-for-1 Dirty Bananas, so we could bring them back for Matt and Kris. They of course started melting the second we started down the beach, so I arrived very sticky. Kris refused to drink it, because he thought it wasn’t manly enough. HIS LOSS.

(Fun fact: if you drink Dirty Bananas, you get “Dirty Diana” by Michael Jackson stuck in your head forever. It’s not pleasant.)

We hung out at the chairs for a while, then went down the beach in the other direction to get some patties for lunch. Matt and Kris declared themselves dancehall stars, and started making up music constantly. It was something to hear, believe me.

We went to the room to shower and change, then out to the road to get a cab to take us into town. Matt took the front seat, and the other five of us piled in the back. The driver dropped us at the Corner Bar, a place that we’d noted on our last trip was always the loudest building in town.

They didn’t really have much vegetarian food, but Matt got me an order of fries and a beer. They all had various varieties of fried chicken and brown-down.

When we finished, a guy came by and asked if he could take the bones for his dog. He poured all the boxes into one, and cleaned off the table for us. We then hailed another cab and rode up to the Canoe Bar just in time for happy hour.

After a while, Kris decided to take the kids back to the hotel while we hung out. A glass-bottom boat pulled up to the beach and a bunch of old people lined up to get out. I had had enough rum that I really, REALLY wanted to see one of them fall in the water, and I was not disappointed. At least she had the presence of mind to save her camera bag.

We had another round of drinks and made plans to meet up the next evening. Then we all used the bathroom for the 20th time there, and headed off in different directions on foot: Orsi up the cliffs, and Matt and I back toward town.

Once we made it down the hill, we cut through the little mall and headed toward the parking lot by Hi-Lo. There was a whole crowd of cab drivers there yelling to us, and we told them no thanks. One of them then pointed out the ATM across the way from Hi-Lo, which was good since it was almost disguised in there. We both got cash, then went grocery shopping.

We got rum, beer, snacks, and sunscreen, since we’d run out. The sunscreen didn’t have a price on it, so the cashier asked if I wanted to check it first. I said no, since we needed it anyway. (It was under $9… that’s a good deal regardless.) Also, I was once again aware of how incredibly much easier it is to always carry local currency in Jamaica. Everything is so much cheaper, since everyone estimates their own exchange rate for USD.

We walked back through town near the roundabout, which was really crowded that time of day. A guy stopped us and told us that he had been asked by the government of Jamaica to rewrite the Lord’s Prayer in patois. And he did, but they stole it from them and never gave him credit. He asked if he could recite it to us, so I said yes. (I knew he was angling for money, but hearing it was amazing.) He tried to sell us one of his other psalms in patois, but we told him to keep it and gave him cash for the privilege of listening. It was pretty excellent.

We dashed across the roundabout (there’s always some life-risking involved), crossed the Negril river with the trees full of egrets, and headed toward our hotel. On the way, I had to stop and take a picture of a Jamaican basketball court, since of course we were traveling with our basketball friend.

We sat on the patio drinking some (not) delicious Rum Fire, then decided to go get dinner. We went next door to Kuyaba, which was pretty full despite it being fairly late in the evening for Negril dinner. Our table was up front on the patio, overlooking the beach. Matt had browndown and conch, and I had extremely delicious ital stew peas. It was a far better meal than the previous night’s.

After dinner, we decided to make our obligatory visit to Margaritaville, since it’s a tradition. We headed up the beach, noting a few interesting-looking (and still fairly busy, which is unusual) bars along the way. We reached the point where we could see the neon at our destination, but in between us and the bar was a building sticking out into the water. We saw it from a ways off, but had to actually walk up to it to even grasp the concept of a building BLOCKING THE BEACH in Negril. It made no sense at all.

We stood there considering our options for a minute. It looked like we could probably climb past it (on the pile of questionable-looking sandbags surrounding it) without getting our clothes too wet, but what if we tried to come back later and the surf had come in farther? We weren’t wearing shoes, so going out to the road and cutting around it wasn’t possible. We gave up and headed back the other direction.

We decided to go to Bourbon Beach, which was advertising a free reggae show that night. It was basically being put on to advertise the Capleton show the next night, but that was fine with us. I love Bourbon Beach.

We got drinks at the crowded bar, then grabbed a picnic table to watch the show. There was a solid mix of locals and super-hippie ladies hanging out. The band would play a couple songs, then make an announcement about the Capleton show, then go back to the music. Guys were wandering around selling tickets and weed.

My favorite moment was when the band played “Welcome to Jamrock” by Damian Marley. That made me so happy.

As the show wrapped up, we headed back toward our hotel. The beach was pretty empty apart from the people at Bourbon Beach. We arrived at Legends to find the beach gate locked, so we tried to go through the restaurant. Those gates were locked, too, but there was a security guard inside who told us to go next door to the restaurant. I said, “Kuyaba?” and he said yes. We went over there and the gates were closed, too, but they weren’t locked. We went inside and closed them behind us, and felt REALLY awkward about walking through a closed restaurant, barefoot, in the dark, especially since we knew there was a gigantic birdcage with a loud, crabby cockatoo in the back.

As we neared the exit that led to the resort, we ran into another security guard who told us to be careful walking through. I asked him if we could get to Legends this way, and he said yes. There’s no gate between them except the one by the road, though, so by the time we’d walked across the parking lot and out onto the road, we were regretting being barefoot.

So my advice to you is to bring flipflops with you if you go out at night on the beach, just in case. Those gates close early.

We got up Friday morning and got a cab up to Samsara. Orsi had taken Szof to school with Nav, so it was me and the boys for the day. Pila hailed a cab for us, and we rode into the hills above town to a place called both Ragabones and the Red Dragon. Matt and Kris were in search of the best jerk pork in Negril.

The pork wasn’t quite ready yet (it was around 11), so we got beers and hung out at a table. Kris had mentioned that they had the coldest Red Stripes around, and it was no joke: the bottles iced over instantly.

Atti and I hung out while Matt and Kris went to check on the meat’s progress. I loved the place instantly, because it was covered in stickers from all over the world. Many of them were from Wisconsin, confusingly.

Thankfully, they had a little shop on site for those of us who didn’t eat jerk pork. Matt got me a cheese bun. (That might seem disappointing, but it’s not. The wheat cheese bun is the BEST.)

We took a bunch of pictures there, because of our love for the Red Dragon in Minneapolis. This place wasn’t quite the same, but it was still awesome.

Our cab driver waited for us the whole time, and after lunch took us down to the farm store in town. Kris wanted seeds and a machete. They didn’t have either at that store, so we went further down the road to another one. THEY didn’t have seeds, either, but they definitely had a giant machete.

We took everything back to the hotel, and took this picture to send Orsi, so she was aware of what was going on while she was at school:

Orsi showed up, and the kids went to nap. We changed into bathing suits and went to go snorkel off the cliffs. The visibility was pretty good, and there were blue crabs climbing all over the rocks. Kris saw some eels, too, but I couldn’t find them.

We swam from that spot down to the area where we’d jumped off the cliffs before. Kris managed to find a crowd of tiny jellyfish along the way, and got stung a lot by them. I got a couple stings on my arm, but they weren’t bad. We climbed out of the water, and Kris got vinegar from the bar to put on his stings. Those invisible jellyfish are a bunch of jerks.

We dried off and changed again to head to No Limit. What we learned there is that you can just buy yourself a bottle of Appleton. Byron didn’t have Diet Pepsi, so I ran next door to buy some. I left it at the bar, which made it convenient when we stopped back later.

While we were sitting there, a huge storm erupted. I couldn’t believe how much it rained in half an hour’s time. We waited out the storm with our rum, and Kris’ roots drink.

Once the rain let up a little, we left the kids at the bar (under Nav’s care, not the drinkers) and got a cab to Pushcart for dinner. We got there and found it closed for a private party, so we went to 3 Dives instead. It was still raining a little, and everyone was damp.

The place was mobbed, so I figured it would take forever. We found a spot to sit and drink beer while the men went to order. The food didn’t actually take that long at all, surprisingly. I had a giant vegetarian plate, and ate it with all of the hot sauce in the world.

After dinner, we rode back to No Limit. Kris and Orsi grabbed the kids and went back to the hotel, and Matt and I stayed and ordered another drink from Nav, who was tending bar. (They said they’d never see her do that before, which was funny.) We grabbed a cab back to our hotel, and hung out on the patio for a bit. We went to bed just as Capleton was coming on at Bourbon Beach, so I had trouble getting to sleep from the show echoing down the beach.

Kris, Orsi, and kids came down to the beach on the shuttle again, and we joined them in the ocean. After floating around for a while and drinking beer in our beach chairs, we decided to go over to Yellow Bird for our daily visit.

We had dirty bananas, then did a lot of time sitting around staring at the beach and passers-by and joking. We got hungry after a while, so Matt and I walked down the beach to the patty shop (Jamrock!) to get some lunch. We brought them back to Yellow Bird, because we wouldn’t want to miss out on the 2-for-1s.

Of course the patty man showed up right after that. (Not that anyone was sad about more patties.) He showed Orsi how he’d modified his bike for beach-rolling purposes: the pedal on his side was removed, as well as the seat. He was in no real hurry to get the patties down the beach, either, and hung out at Yellow Bird for a while.

The kids made a new friend, and spend the time running around and playing in the sand with him. As they did every day, a couple Jamaicans rode slowly past on horses, trying to get people to ride. They also hung out in front of Yellow Bird for a while, and sat on their horses texting. I made a mental note to add that to my to-do list.

Later in the afternoon, we decided we could maybe switch bars for a while. We all piled in a cab, and Orsi fell in love with the driver’s hat, so she traded him. (His was way more awesome.)

He dropped Matt and Kris in town near the cricket shop, and the rest of us rode up to the Canoe Bar. Orsi and I got a table on the balcony overlooking the beach, and the kids headed down to play. The men arrived shortly after that, just in time for happy hour. Matt had an awesome West Indies cricket cap, and Kris had yet another gigantic knife.

We had an informal travel mascot meetup while we were there. These dudes have been a lot of places.

We ended up staying there long enough that we decided to just stay for dinner. The kids were tired, so K&O took them back to the hotel while we stayed. Matt placed a 2-for-1 drink order right as happy hour was ending, and somehow managed to end up with FOUR “Rock the Boats”. He ordered lionfish for dinner, and I had amazingly delicious curry tofu. It’s not so hard to be vegetarian AND get something other than rasta pasta if you go to the right places.

We were on our own for the evening, so we decided to get our Margaritaville visit out of the way. We grabbed a cab for the cliffs, and arrived to find the place pretty empty (it was probably 8:30 or 9ish, so that’s late for the beach), and the last of the resort shuttles was leaving. We sat at the bar near a couple who were having a night of it. We could tell because the lady kept slurring very loudly about how it was her 37th birthday.

We ordered the obligatory rasta shot (which is surprisingly delicious) and margaritas. After a while, I had to ask the couple near us where they were from, because I had a suspicion. They were from Watertown, Wisconsin, outside of Milwaukee. They were there without the kids, celebrating her birthday by drinking four billion margaritas, as far as we could tell. We didn’t hold out much hope for the lady being able to stay on her chair much longer, but suddenly their dinners arrived and she rallied.

We hung around there for another drink (and to watch sports on TV, which was rare), then decided to head back down the beach. We had shoes with us this time in case we couldn’t get around that building in the ocean.

We reached it and peered around to see if it looked safe. While we were doing so, another group came up behind us, and one of the guys was PISSED about that development. We all decided to do it, and made our way across on the sandbags. It wasn’t the safest thing in the world, but it worked.

On the way down the beach, we passed what was left of 23/7, our favorite bar on our previous trip. According to the internet a while back, the owner (who was from New York) got in some kind of beef with a local guy and tried to kill him with a machete. Then he fled to Canada, and people came and knocked down the bar. All that’s left of it is the tiki hut, so probably it should belong to us.

We went and stood under it and toasted.

We saw that Roots Bamboo was still hopping, and since it was another favorite from the last trip, we stopped there instead. We got drinks, and god knows if I even remember what we were talking about. I was obsessed with the wires hanging out of the back of the cash register, and made Matt take a picture of them.

We went back to our hotel after that, and were glad to find the beach gate open again.

We got up Sunday morning and headed to the beach, intent on enjoying the hell out of our last day in Negril. We asked Michael if he’d seen Kris and Orsi, and he said he hadn’t that day. (It turns out they were calling our room, but we weren’t there.)

We swam for a long time, sat around in beach chairs drinking beer and generally collecting the sun. There was a couple of old guys serenading our area with awesome old reggae songs, and people were flying by on jet skis and parasails. There was a lot to look at.

After a while it was time for lunch, so we walked down to the patty place. They were closed, so we decided on Bourbon Beach instead. We went in to get a table, and a very energetic man working there gave us a flyer for the next night’s show. We told him we couldn’t make it since we were leaving Negril, so he said he would call the airline and have our flight rescheduled for us. If only.

Matt ordered some awesome-looking jerk chicken, and I got the only vegetarian thing on the menu, a caesar salad. It ended up being shockingly good. We sat there for a long time, enjoying the food, the beer, and the view. I love Bourbon Beach!

I managed to pick up a wifi signal and there was an email from Orsi saying they’d tried to call to make plans. I emailed back that we would plan to meet them up at Samsara in time for sunset. We hung out talking to the table next to us for a while, and one of the guys said he’d been coming to Negril for 20+ years. I can’t tell you how many times we heard the same exact thing from people: it’s not for everyone, but if you love it, you just keep coming back every year. I totally understand that, because I can’t wait to go back again.

The enthusiastic employee came by and asked if he could take Matt’s chicken bones for his dog, the Marlboro Man. That made me want to just stay in Negril forever.

Since we were there for the first time during the day, we checked out the wall of fame. Matt recognized pretty much everyone on there. Awesome.

We went to Yellow Bird for a Dirty Banana, as was tradition. I realized we were finally fully in the swing of the beach the last few days: swim in the morning, sit around doing nothing much more than sunning and staring at the ocean, drink some beer, sit at a bar for a few hours, go get some food when you’re hungry. It’s an amazingly fantastic change from normal life, and one that takes me a while to get used to.

I took forever to finish my Dirty Banana, because for the first time ever it was way too sweet for me. Matt had his plus a couple of rum punches which I helped finish. Miss Josephine, the old lady I’d met during our first visit to Yellow Bird that trip, came by and set up her table with jewelry for sale. I’d told her then that I would stop by and look, and I was true to my word. We picked out a necklace for my mother-in-law’s birthday.

After a while, we headed to the room to shower and change. We got a cab to Samsara, and wandered around the place looking for them. We ran into Peter, and he said they’d gone off down the road. We grabbed some drinks at the bar (it was conveniently happy hour), and grabbed a table on the patio to wait for them and generally enjoy life.

They showed up a bit before sunset, and Kris handed Matt yet another bottle of tonic wine. Matt celebrated our last sunset there in style.

(He said it smelled like Parmesan rind. Gross.)

While the sunset, we told Kris and Orsi about our great moneymaking idea that we’d developed earlier. It’s called COOOOOOLLLLLLD WATA Enterprises, because of an old rasta I overheard at No Limit. I wanted to remember forever how much he enjoyed drinking his cooooooolllld wata. Anyway, the premise is this: we’re a really shitty yet entertaining excursion company. Rather than offering you the best of all the local tourist attractions, which are bound to be mobbed and mostly fake anyway, we take you on a real adventure. Some of the ideas we came up with were:
– Open Bottom Boat (bring a bucket!)
– Stand on Some Rocks (photos extra)
– Poke the Ocean with a Stick (this is based on a fishing boat I’d see earlier, and discussion about wanting to go vegetarian fishing again)
– Sinking Ship (the ship starts to sink, and you have a limited time to escape. Those who survive get a certificate.)

Also, Matt decided his dancehall name was “Deep Frya”. Yes, we’d all had some rum by then.

The kids were still with Nav at No Limit, so the four of us got a cab to Pushcart, which was finally open this time. I hadn’t expected anything so fancy, but it totally was. It’s part of the Rockhouse property, which Matt and I had eaten at on our last trip. They had real cocktails (not just super-sweet boat drinks), and the menu was great. We ordered almost one of everything.

The ackee patties were my favorite, followed by the Bush Man Stew. Matt and Orsi shared some insanely spicy prawns that were the size of miniature lobsters.

We had a fantastic meal there, and it was a good way to wrap up our stay in Negril. After bally hung out with Haile Selassie, of course.

We rode back to No Limit, and hung out with Nav and the kids out back for a long time. When we went in for a drink, a rasta (who was very drunk, and told us he had 2 kids: one in Switzerland, and one Ireland) started lecturing us about how “the boy” might not live here, but Jamaica was his home, and so it was a crime to take him away from it. We agreed with him, and told him a couple times that he wasn’t our son, he was our friends’. (Also, the rasta couldn’t have cared less about “the girl”, just Atti.) He was hearing none of it, though, and escalated into yelling at Matt about taking the boy away from Jamaica. We excused ourselves to the back again.

After a while, it was time to say goodbye to Nav, Byron, and the most awesome bar in Negril. We thanked them for everything, settled our tab, and swung by the store for supplies before heading to Samsara. We sat on the porch drinking for a while (where we met a guy and his girlfriend from St Paul, strangely), then went down to get a table on the patio outside the bar. We had quite the array of refreshments:

The bar had karaoke going on again, and they were giving a bottle of Appleton to the winner. I tried to convince Matt and Kris to sing, but the contest ended before I could get them to commit. The super-loud Canadians were in full swing again, and their accents drove me insane. We played cards for a while, and when Kris and Orsi headed to their room, we told them we’d see them in Atlanta.

Matt and I packed up and went to go walk around the grounds to look at the stars, and decided that next time we go back to Negril, we should just stay at Samsara the whole time. It’s fantastic, and getting from there to the beach is incredibly easy. There’s no real need to stay there.

We headed out the front gates of the hotel (which were closed!) and stood out on the walkway waiting for a cab. A car came flying past and pulled over quickly across the street, but there was no real indication that it was a cab otherwise. It sat there running while we stood looking at it for a while, and finally decided to go over there. There was no evidence of any other drivers around at that point.

We asked the guy in the passenger seat if they could take us to Legends, and he said yes. I went to get in the back seat, and had to move a couple bottles of rum out of the way. I said something about them, and the guy said, “Yeah, you can move them. Don’t worry, we’re not drunk.” He was slurry, which was not encouraging. The driver was female, and didn’t say a word to us.

They made a U-turn to head back down the cliffs, and he asked her if she was alright. As far as we could tell he was drunk and it was his car, and she wasn’t very comfortable driving a stick. We were totally in an illegal cab in Negril, but we figured as long as we got there alive it was fine.

The guy told us it’d be $1000J to our hotel. Matt balked, saying we paid $600 to get up there. ($500-600 was the going rate, depending on the driver and how much of a sucker you were.) They argued for a bit, and finally the guy said, “OK, six hundred, but be sure to tip.” Matt agreed. We hung on for our lives as we drove through the curves in town, but the lady driver seemed to be fine. When we got to the hotel we jumped out as fast as possible, and Matt handed the guy $1000 anyway. It was worth it for the extra adrenaline.

We headed to the room to finish packing up our stuff (this time I actually did pack things properly and weigh the bags, since I didn’t want a make a huge effort with it in Montego Bay), and headed to bed.

The last time we’d been in Jamaica, we had to get up way too early in the morning in order to be on the shuttle to the airport. Nobody wants to get up early in Jamaica, so the plan this time was to spend the day (which just happened to be Matt’s birthday!) in Montego Bay, close to the airport, and not have to rush to do anything.

We got up, finished packing and cleaning up our room, and went to check out of the hotel before 11am. Our shuttle wasn’t coming for a while, so we left our bags in the front office and walked down the beach for patties. Of course Jamrock wasn’t open again – that made them 1 for 3 – so we walked back to the hotel. We didn’t have any great ideas, but there was a bar there, right?

On the way, we stopped to thank Michael for everything. He said more words at that point that we’d heard him say all week. That guy is awesome.

We grabbed seats at the Legends bar and got rum punch. I heard scrambling behind us, and turned to see some of the feral beach cats chasing a pretty sizable crab around. It was excellent entertainment, even if Matt and I had to lift our feet to keep away from his claws. The crab finally took refuge under a tray table in the corner, where the cats couldn’t see it.

Then it was time to head to the shuttle. We paid our tab, gathered our bags, and rolled out to the parking lot. A loud group with the most annoying New York accents on earth was there, too, so we were not excited about the prospect of sharing a shuttle with them. The minibus rolled up, and the driver only had that group on the manifest. We weren’t sure if we were forgotten or just awaiting another bus, but while they sat there figuring things out, another one rolled up. That was ours.

There was one other couple on the bus, and of course they were Minnesotan. They had plastic cups and a bottle of vodka, intent on enjoying the ride back to MoBay. We talked with them and the driver the whole way back, and the driver was great. We learned a lot about Jamaican food and the landscape. As the couple downed more vodka, the lady became more and more incoherent and giggly, and the guy got quieter. By the time we arrived at the airport an hour or so later, I was glad to finally not have to talk to them anymore.

Our driver took us on to the Holiday Inn SunSpree, and pointed out Scotchie’s along the way, so we knew how to get there. Orsi had said it was across the street, and she was right. The driver dropped us at the hotel, and we expected to have to pay him extra for the ride there (versus the airport), but he didn’t ask for anything more. Matt tipped him well instead.

So our original plan in Montego Bay was to stay at Toby’s, a highly-recommended, very reasonably-priced hotel. But we had a bunch of credit on Hotels.com, and decided to redeem it to stay at the all-inclusive, since with our discount it ended up being much cheaper AND had free drinks. (We didn’t really care about the food part, but since it was Matt’s birthday we figured we could just hold up the bar there for free.) The second we set foot in the lobby, though, I had a lot of regrets about that.

Don’t get me wrong, the place was very, very nice. It was clean, spacious, and the rooms had every amenity that they didn’t in Negril (super-strong A/C, hair dryer, fancy shower and toiletries). The grounds were huge, and there were at least four different beaches that were perfectly-groomed. There was even an island you could wade to, full of beach chairs and hammocks. There were bars in several locations, and nice shops. They had all the resort-type things that I’m unwilling to pay for, like the spa and high-end dining. It’s exactly the kind of thing you want out of a cruise ship, but there’s one critical difference: on a cruise, people leave the ship to visit foreign countries.

The place was very crowded, and of course there were kids everywhere. It seemed unlikely that one would be able to find a quiet spot anywhere near the pool. (Thankfully, there was an adults-only beach at the far end of the property, which we discovered later.)

Anyway, we checked in, and of course were early so we couldn’t get in the room yet. They gave us fruity welcome drinks and put really annoying concert-style wristbands on our wrists (I always make fun of wristbanded all-inclusive people in my head when we’re on vacation, and then I WAS ONE OF THEM). We took the bags to the porters’ closet and got tickets. I held onto my carry-on bag with my purse and a million other things. What I hadn’t realized is that Matt was planning to go right over to Scotchie’s for lunch (we hadn’t really eaten anything yet that day), and my bag weighed about 50 pounds. We agreed to switch off along the way.

We headed right back out the front of the hotel, and were asked if we needed a cab. We said we were walking, so they told us to be sure to sign out at the front gate. We gave the lady there our name, and another woman was standing right outside, offering to braid my hair. I said no thanks, and we left the property and crossed the highway.

It was approximately a million degrees that day, so it was uncomfortable. Actually, I’m sure it was the usual high-80s that it is everywhere in Jamaica in February, but being even a little bit off the ocean made a gigantic difference. We were instantly covered in sweat, and my bag was not the most pleasant thing in the world.

There were guys selling the usual things across the road, so they walked with us and asked if we needed weed, souvenirs, or whatever. We said thanks, but we were at the end of our trip. We met one guy per block, as if they each had their own territory. Near the little “artisan village”, a guy introduced himself as Derek, and asked us to come into his shop there. We said we would stop by on the way back from lunch, but we were dying of hunger. He made us promise, and we did. We didn’t need souvenirs, but there would be no getting away from Derek.

A couple blocks down, we found Scotchie’s, and got a table in the shade under the thatched roof. The place was awesome.

It was also a great time to be at the most famous jerk hut in Jamaica, because there was nobody there at 3pm on a Monday. We ordered beers and food. There wasn’t much vegetarian there, but I had enough to eat. Matt’s lunch looked excellent.

When we were done, we headed back toward the resort. From that direction, we could see how absolutely monstrous it was. It was a multi-block walk to Scotchie’s, but the hotel stretched almost that entire distance across the highway. Once we reached the artisan village, Derek was right there waiting. He led us to the shop he said was his, while all the ladies sitting outside the 30 or so other shops (which were really just little closets) yelled at us to please come visit them next. We were the only people there, so it was a little overwhelming.

It became apparently right away that this was not Derek’s shop, but probably someone he knew. We stood in there looking around a little while the owner directed a fan at us. (Awkward.) We finally decided on a little wooden bird painted in Jamaican colors, and the owner explained what the colors meant (you have to hear that at least ten times on every trip to Jamaica… it’s required). Matt did a great job of haggling, and she was not thrilled that we were only interested in that one thing. We took our bag and headed right back out of the artisan village, much to the other ladies’ disappointment.

Derek came right along with us, so I asked him if the shop owner was his wife. He laughed and said no, he was the walking shop! He then unzipped his fanny pack and started pulling out handmade jewelry. We said no and thanked him about ten times before he finally accepted that we weren’t buying anything else, and headed back to the resort.

We signed in, got our room keys, and were taken across the property and up to our room by one of the bellboys. I can’t really explain the whole conversation, but at one point he joked about taking his dick out to compare with Matt’s and find out who was a true local. Seriously, Jamaicans are OBSESSED with their penises. It’s hilarious. (The macho thing gets old, but it meant that I never had to talk to people if I didn’t feel like it. Matt’s the man, so clearly he’s always in charge.)

I was not at all excited to be there after being in such an awesome place as Negril, but we decided to make the best of it. I changed into a beach dress and we went down to find chairs and drinks. The pool was so mobbed with humans that we skirted it completely. The first bar we tried had ice cream drinks in addition to beer and liquor, so that line took forever. They were setting up hamburgers and fries nearby, for some reason. We decided to keep going and find another bar.

Farther down the way, we found a tiny little beach that had thatch umbrellas, beach chairs, and was nearly deserted. It was also very close to another bar, so we decided on that. It was only 4:30 or so, but the bar was packed with yelling drunk people, and had the atmosphere of every fratboy bar in Madison, Wisconsin. I’m not saying that Negril is not packed with drunk Canadians (it is), but they’re more spread out and nothing is every really like… THAT. We got drinks and took them to our chairs.

The beach-settin’ was very nice, on the other hand. There were birds everywhere, and the sunset was pretty. There was also a pair of girls making out in a chair ahead of us, which seemed ballsy considering Jamaica’s opinion of gay people. (No country is perfect, unfortunately; hopefully they’ll get over their stupid fears someday.)

Matt was nice enough to make several trips to the bar on our behalf, so I didn’t have to move from my quiet spot away from the All-Inclusive People. As the sun went down, tiny crabs started popping out of their holes in the sand. We sat there watching them in hysterics for a long time. They were excavating their crab-holes, and the way they popped out and tossed sand was the best. One of them kept throwing sand into the other guy’s house, too.

After sunset, the staff started collecting the beach chairs, and we figured it was time to figure out what the hell was going on with dinner around there. We had to cut back through the pool area, so we learned that the usual buffet was closed, and they had moved it outside for the night. They were apparently doing that in conjunction with entertainment on the stage in the middle of the pool. We noticed that everyone had suddenly changed into what is commonly referred to as “resort wear”, which was both stupid and entertaining. We went to the room to change into our equivalent… I put on a slightly nicer dress, and Matt wore a polo. We also mixed drinks in the room, since we had some delicious Rum Fire overproof from Negril.

The pool area was chaos by the time we got back down there. There seemed to be servers running around, but we didn’t see any indication that they were actually seating people. There was a DJ on stage playing such hits as “Hot Hot Hot” and anything by Enrique Iglesias and Black Eyed Peas (nothing Jamaican… I’m not sure we even heard reggae the whole time we were there).

We wandered around looking for a host stand or anything on that order, and couldn’t find it. We decided to grab a table instead, and see if that was the trick. The tables weren’t set with silverware, napkins, or water, so we were hoping that that might happen. We sat there for a long time as servers rushed around helping other tables, so apparently that wasn’t how it worked, either. We decided we didn’t care, and headed for the buffet.

I liked the salad bar, since it had, you know, salad, and bread. The food was everything you get at an Old Country Buffet. There was hardly anything vegetarian, either. Matt managed to find silverware on a serving table, so at least we could eat. Even now, I have no idea how dinner service is supposed to work there. I do know that there were one billion white people all running around scarfing up crappy food, though. I wanted some stew peas or a patty.

After dinner, we went to get more drinks and headed down to the far end of the property to see what was down there. We found an empty adults-only pool that appeared to still be open but unattended. There was also another nice beach at the far end past the pier, so we grabbed two beach chairs and sat there staring at the ocean and the stars. And laughing about what a ridiculous place it was. We did not belong there at all, and I felt horrified that none of those people were ever going to experience how amazing Jamaica is. It’s depressing.

Matt did get to try out one of the exciting COOOOOLLLLD WATA excursions, though, and I didn’t even charge him for the photo I took. We went back to the room to drink rum and play dominoes.

We got up, finished packing everything the proper way this time, and rolled our suitcases down to the lobby shortly before the noon checkout time. Matt ran the towels back to the return hut so we weren’t charged $80 apiece, or whatever it was. Since we had plenty of time to kill before our flight, we went to the souvenir shop at the resort. They actually had some really cute stuff, so we picked up a few things (including my new purse).

It took some work getting the new stuff into my suitcase without opening everything up entirely, but I managed. We went to the entrance to get a cab, and one of the guys working there cut off our wristbands and asked if we wanted to keep them as a souvenir. I didn’t really want a souvenir of my time at the generic all-inclusive, but we took them anyway.

Our cab turned out to be one of the vans you usually take to the airport if you pre-book. It was just the two of us this time, though. Our driver asked about what we’d seen in Jamaica, and then told us about how he had friends in California who sent him marijuana seeds. As we arrived at the airport, he took out his phone and started showing us pictures of his crops. Awesome.

The airport was very quiet, and check-in was easy. We got to take the Medallion line to drop the bags, and then headed to security, which was really fast as well. We were there plenty early, so we went to go find lunch (we hadn’t had anything but coffee so far) and of course ended up at Air Margaritaville. Since we’d been there on the previous visit, it was officially a tradition.

We ordered Guinness, and our server told Matt that dudes ordered it because it made them horny. I didn’t want to mention that EVERYTHING seems to make the men horny in Jamaica. Matt got a burger, and I had the veggie wrap. It was at least 70% shredded lettuce, but it was still incredibly appealing just because it was fresh. After our meal, our server told us a long story about how he liked it when it was cold, because then it made his lady want to cuddle up close to him. Oh, Jamaicans.

After lunch, we did a bunch of shopping in the airport. We picked up a huge bottle of Havana Club and some high-end Appleton from the duty-free store, some Marcus Garvey dominoes from a souvenir shop, and got beverages for the flight. We then grabbed seats at the bar near our gate, and Matt went to use up his remaining $J to buy beers. He quickly learned that people don’t often use Jamaican currency at the airport, for some strange reason. We weren’t sure why, because it’s much cheaper that way, and you’re likely to have some left over.

While we were waiting for our flight to board, there was an announcement about one of the other Delta flights to NYC. The guy on the microphone said that the co-pilot was trying to point something out to the pilot on a map on a clipboard, and then there was a bump and his pen fell into the plane’s console. While that was probably harmless, there was the potential that the pen could get stuck in the mechanism that controlled the aircraft’s tail. Therefore they had to tear apart the console to find it, and they were very sorry for the delay. Those of us who were not flying to New York thought that was all incredibly hilarious.

After a while it was time to board, right around the time that Kris and Orsi were likely arriving at the airport from Negril. I was a zone ahead of Matt, so I took the duty-free rum box and boarded first so I could get a good spot in the overhead compartment. We had a two-seat row to ourselves, which was very comfortable indeed. The flight seemed to take forever to board, and we were held up well past our scheduled departure. People kept arriving from other flights, both the (eventually cancelled) New York one and others that were apparently delayed or cancelled due to bad weather in the southeastern US. Finally the plane was packed full, and we were on our way to Atlanta, still somehow close to on time.

Leaving Mobay, I could see the hotel and Scotchie’s from the air. (The hotel is the first large one up on the coast past the sandbar, a little below the middle of the photo. Scotchie’s is just south of the circular drive across the street from the hotel.)

About half an hour into the flight, we passed Cuba again! I could see a lot of detail of the farms from above.

We landed just a little late in Atlanta, and headed as fast as possible towards Customs and Immigration. I was glad to be toward the front of the flight, so we could get there before the rush. It’s about a 400-mile walk from that terminal to Customs, but we arrived to find no wait at all. The surly agent stamped our passports in invisible ink (seriously, I can’t find the stamp), and we headed to baggage claim to get our suitcases.

The bags were all latched shut with an industrial twist-tie, and we’d been instructed not to open them to put duty-free stuff inside. We carried it up to Customs, and I only got a little nervous about the drug dog sniffing around all the luggage, because he was so cute. The Customs guy took our form and didn’t even ask us anything, so we walked away reveling in yet another successful Cuban-contraband-smuggling effort. At the bag drop for connecting flights, one of the baggage handlers showed me how to remove the lock so I could put our rum inside. We sent our bags off with a little prayer that they’d make it to Minneapolis, and headed to the main terminal on the train to find some dinner.

We’d eaten at the Sam Adams Brewpub before, so we headed there and looked at the menu. We didn’t see a single vegetarian item on the list, so we proceeded down the concourse. I was pretty sure we were going to end up with fast food pizza for dinner, but then Matt decided to take a look at the TGI Friday’s menu. The last time I’d been in a TGI Friday’s (several years ago, at least), they also put meat on top of everything, but this menu actually had a few vegetarian items, including a really delicious-looking veggie burger. So we sucked up our pride (how snobby can you be in an airport, anyway?) and got a table.

Our super-awesome server brought us two gigantic mojitos, and then our meals. The veggie burger was indeed amazingly good. The Gophers were playing Indiana on many giant TVs around the restaurant, so we were happy.

I checked Facebook, and Orsi had sent a message that they were still in Montego Bay. We figured we’d be running into them in ATL since they were only an hour behind us, but apparently the storm had bumped everything back several hours. They were sitting around the airport, knowing that they’d be spending the night in Atlanta. We’d gotten really lucky!

We boarded the plane and took our spots in the exit row. My seat didn’t have an armrest, so it was gigantic and comfortable. Matt was stuck between me and a lady who snored, but at least she was nice about it. We couldn’t get ESPN on the seatback TV so we missed seeing the Gophers court storm, and didn’t even hear about it til the next day. Our flight back to MSP was uneventful, and our bags had indeed come along for the journey. I switched to wool socks and Keen sandals from my flipflops, put on a hoodie, and we went out to wait for my parents in the cold.