The next morning, we crossed the street to Pressa for breakfast. It was probably the closest restaurant to our hotel, and we hadn’t been there yet. The lady who ran the place was adorable, and insisted on showing us photos of her grandkids before we ate.

Immediately after breakfast, we found Popsie and hopped in his cab to Ragabones. It’s a bar/restaurant up in the hills of Negril (where it’s probably 20 degrees warmer all the time), and the place is so popular you have to get there early. They make a huge batch of jerk pork every day, but it’s usually gone by noon.

The last time we’d been there, it was quiet and we were able to hang out in the bar. This time, the place was packed with Canadians and people from the east coast, some of which were really loud and aggressive about their seating situation. That’s really strange for anyone in Jamaica, really. We got some Red Stripes (they keep them in the freezer, and when they advertise having the coldest beer around it’s not joke) and hung out outside while the dudes got packages of pork.

While we were waiting, a big tour van full of tourists drove up. The driver got out and said hi while helping the people out of the van. He said he’d called ahead to make sure his group would have lunch waiting. He went inside, and then came out fuming shortly afterwards, because apparently they’d sold out already. There’s some serious competition for that jerk pork, apparently.

Kris and Matt packed up their food for later, and we walked back down the hill toward town. On the way, we met a grazing goat on the side of the road.

Kris saw a tiny barbershop across the street, so he went in to get his beard trimmed.

We walked through town along the roundabout, and stopped at a fruit cart to pick up some more sustenance. I got a back of chopped-up pineapple, and carried it along.

We stopped at the Jerk Hut next, just past the roundabout going toward the cliffs. There we ordered some more food, including jerk chicken, rice and peas, and a giant order of festival (which was delicious). We hung out eating everything but the jerk pork from Ragabones. Right as we were finishing, it started pouring.

Luckily, Popsie was driving by, and stopped to pick us up. He dropped us back off at the hotel, and by then (only a few minutes later), the rain had passed. We hung out by the pool some more.

The sky always looks so menacing, even when it’s barely overcast. Dramatic pool shot!

The kids wanted to jump off the cliff, so we hung out watching them for a long time. The ocean was really calm.

As the sun started to set, the boat tours began passing by. Szof had made a friend who used to be a gymnast, so they developed elaborate cartwheeling jumps off the cliffs for the boats’ entertainment. It was great.

Sunset wasn’t bad, either!

We hadn’t seen many full sunsets because it has been a little overcast the whole time, but this one made up for it.

After dinner, everyone packed up their food and we went to No Limit. It was Ash Wednesday, which always means there’s a big show down at Bourbon Beach (it was called Hash Wednesday, which is hilarious). Matt and I had fully intended to go down to the Tarrus Riley show with everyone else (anytime you asked anyone, they said they were going), but the closer it got, the less we were inclined to go down to a show that probably wouldn’t start til after midnight. We were in bed by that time most nights, after all. The sun and the beer make you lazy, after all.

On the way to the bar, we stopped at a tiny little hut called Errol’s. Errol was a tiny old rasta, and his restaurant was a small kitchen and a platform with two two-seat tables on it. All his food was ital (rastas are vegan), so he put together a sampler for me. It was gigantic and I was dying of happiness over it. I wish I could eat this every day (well, in half the quantity). It had pumpkin rice, stew peas, ackee, callaloo, vegetables, and some kind of fake meat. So good.

It was quiet up on the cliffs because of the show, and only a few people were at No Limit. We took our food to a table, and they supplemented with stuff from Tony’s grill outside. We hung out there for a long time drinking beer and talking, and then it was time once again for bed.

I really have no idea how you manage to be sleepy after doing so little in Jamaica, but you do. And it’s awesome.