Kris and Orsi got married in Jamaica. Since we weren’t there for their wedding, we obviously had to go for their 10th anniversary. They were there for a couple weeks in February, and we joined them toward the end of their stay, only overlapping by a couple days.

We had a 3.5 hour drive to Miami and a 1 hour flight to Montego Bay, since we can’t fly direct from Key West. It’s worth it.

Peela, one of their friends from Negril, met us at the airport with his cab. On the way out of town, he mentioned that weed was now legal in small quantities in Jamaica. It was hilarious to see him smoking and waving at cops along the way.

Speaking of which, the usual spirit license signs had a new counterpart: the ganja license sign!

He dropped us off at Samsara and we checked in. Our room was across the road on the garden side, which we’d never actually visited before. It was really pretty, and quieter than the cliffs side. We had a big cottage with a nice patio to ourselves. (I would highly recommend the garden side, plus it’s cheaper.)

We found Kris, Orsi, Thomas, Melissa, and the kids (four of them) cliff-jumping before sunset. We had good timing!

We watched sunset, then walked over to No Limit. There was a new cook there with a grill in the parking lot, and Kris had asked him to make ital (vegan) pumpkin soup in addition to the usual chicken soup, which meant I could eat there too. The soup was amazing, and had huge dumplings in it.

We sat outside the bar for a few hours talking, and then it was time to head back to our rooms.

Here’s the view from our patio the next morning. I made coffee and sat out there reading. It was funny how familiar all the foliage seemed to me this time; we have many of the same plants in the yard now. Not as exotic-seeming, but every bit as attractive as always.

The temperatures in Jamaica and Key West were the same in February, in the high 70s, but it felt warmer there. The sun is more direct, and it’s more humid.

We met everyone and climbed on the shuttle down to Legends on the beach. Here’s Kris and Orsi, who seem to still like each other even after ten years!

We spent the usual amount of time at Yellow Bird (a lot), having dirty bananas. The kids were happy to spend time at the cake lady’s stand.

We had lunch at Kuyaba, and then a few of us went for a beach walk all the way down to Tony’s, which is down toward the other end where the big resorts start. Our names were still on the wall from last time, but we needed a new entry with updated information:

Then it was time to head back and get ready for dinner, so we walked back to Legends, where everyone else was waiting to get on a glass-bottom boat to ride back up to the cliffs. It looked like a storm was rolling in as we left the beach.

We did some sightseeing along the way, and then they dropped us off at the hotel. I am still not at all a fan of jumping off a rocking boat, especially onto a narrow rock platform on these cliffs.

The rainbow was pretty awesome, though, plus the rain missed us.

We changed and got a cab to Just Natural for dinner. I love that place.

After dinner, we did the usual hanging-out at No Limit, then went back to the hotel to fly paper lanterns over the ocean.

The next morning, it was already time for the rest of the group to head back to Minnesota. Matt and I had a good laugh over the idea of going back to Minnesota in February (how soon we forget). We said bye to everyone and then walked down the road to Canoe Bar for breakfast. Their coffee was amazing.

After breakfast we decided to head down to town to do some grocery shopping at Hi Lo. Along the way we met Chicken King, who was awesome. So was his decor:

We ended up going to the new green supermarket instead of Hi Lo, since that was new since our last visit. It was pretty much the same thing. We got Blue Mountain coffee to bring home, some spices and hot sauces that we needed, and snacks for the hotel. Then we headed back up toward Samsara, making a beer stop with Chicken King along the way.

We spend the afternoon in the pool and reading books along the cliffs. One of the very appealing things about Negril is there’s not that much to do there; you’re forced to actually relax.

In the evening, we walked over to Pushcart for dinner. We’ve been to the Rockhouse on every trip to Negril so far, and we weren’t going to mess up that tradition. Their food is amazing, and so is their decor. (Also, we’ve been to a couple of the restaurants owned by the same people in New York, like Miss Lily’s. They’re great.)

This is the most true statement:

After dinner, we walked over to the bar at Rockhouse for a drink, then headed back to the hotel to hang out on our patio and play cards before bedtime.

The next morning, it was already time to leave Samsara. We rolled our bags to the lobby and took the shuttle to Legends, where we were spending the rest of our stay. Our room wasn’t ready yet, so we left our bags in the lobby and went to sit on the beach.

I bought a bottle of ginger-pineapple juice from a guy passing by. It was amazing.

We sat there reading for a while, then went to get our room. It was also on the garden side, but this time in a pretty large hotel complex. We had a nice room with a balcony, and we could see the pool from there. We decided to go have a swim.

Turns out the pool in the shade is NOT as warm as the ocean. It took a long time to get used to it, but I managed to spend some time in there before I lost feeling in my limbs. There was a family of feral cats running around too, and the babies climbing on everything were adorable.

We showered and headed out for a walk on the beach. With a stop at Yellow Bird, of course. They have a good view.

Here’s an awesome mural on the side of the building that used to be 23/7’s kitchen. I can’t believe that spot is still empty!

We had a late lunch at Roots Bamboo, then decided to try Woodstock, a new place that had sprung up since our last visit. It was a really large property with a big stage, and they advertised two-for-one rum punches for happy hour. What’s not to like?

Their sunset view was pretty good, too!

We ended up spending a very long time there (as happens in Negril), but unfortunately there was nothing on the menu I could eat. However, there was a little rasta shack nearby. This meal was incredible.

The next day, the ocean was rough. Probably the roughest we’ve seen it on a non-stormy day. It was kind of hilarious watching people fight the waves.

We stuck to our beach chairs, reading and lounging.

Round about lunchtime, we went for a walk down toward the other end of the beach, and found a little patty shop along the way. We got patties and Red Stripe and brought them back to Legends’ beach for further chillin’.

After a good long time in our beach chairs, we changed and went for another walk down the beach. We ended up at Tony’s again (waaay down the beach), where we ran into a couple from Wisconsin. We ended up talking to them for a long time. (They had fond memories of 23/7, which made me like them a lot.) They recommended Chance’s for dinner because they had the best pizza in Negril; we liked the sound of that, so ended up heading down there after a while. We were sitting there waiting for dinner when the couple showed up, clearly influenced by their own recommendation. They were right – it was really great pizza.

We then walked all the way back down to Bourbon Beach for their show. It was mostly concert footage shown on a giant screen, followed by a band. I liked having the option of both, really.

The next morning, we got a cab to take us up to Just Natural for brunch. It wasn’t so much that we love the place (we do, but we’d already been there), more that Kris is dumb and had left something he’d worked years to acquire there when we’d had dinner. We told him we’d go back and get it for him.

There was no threat of rain this time, so we sat out in the jungle. Bally bellied up to the bar.

And here’s a reminder of the outdoor restrooms there. I LOVE THIS PLACE.

Our cab driver showed up right on time after breakfast, and we asked him to drop us off at Rockhouse, which was about half of the way back to the roundabout. We wanted to hit up their shop, because we figured they would have awesome stuff.

And they did, including this new Ting tshirt I bought for myself.

By then it was afternoon, so it was OK to have a cocktail. The bartenders working were the absolute best, and they were really entertaining. Especially when singing and dancing to Drake.

Also, there’s this view:

The bartenders found out that it was Matt’s birthday the next day, so insisted that he have a flaming shot. Well, we both did. You can’t really tell that this is on fire, but it is. You drink it with a straw, which hearkened back to that one time Wendy did so and lit the cruise ship bar on fire.

We headed back down the road after a couple drinks, walking back past Samsara. We decided to get lunch at the German bar, which also had pizza. Shut up, it’s really good pizza!

From there, we hailed another cab. When it pulled up there were already two women and the drive inside, and we realized it was a route taxi. Which was fine, because that’s way cheaper than a regular cab. We asked the driver to take us to Time Square, right next to our hotel. She dropped us off there and we went to use the ATM before going to our room to drop off our Rockhouse purchases.

After a while, we headed back up the beach to Tony’s. It’s such an entertaining little place.

The bartender, Princess, had everyone playing games. We played this one, which involved stacking disks on top of tippy pieces.

After a while we switched to Shut the Box, which I’ve decided is my new favorite bar game. It drives me crazy.

We hung out for sunset, then decided to go get dinner.

I really wanted to go back to the rasta place on our last night, but it turns out they were closed. We decided on Alfred’s Ocean Palace instead, which had an excellent vegetarian crepe. Matt swears we’ve never been there before, but we definitely had lunch there on our first trip to Negril.

We made one last top at Woodstock, and then it was time to go pack up for the trip home.

The next morning, we had breakfast a few doors down from the hotel, then went to check out and get the shuttle to the airport. We only made one stop along the way, and our driver made quick work of the drive (which is kind of nervewracking in a huge van). We had a good flight home, and spent the evening in Miami celebrating Matt’s birthday before heading home to Key West on Sunday!

We got up Friday morning (painfully, since the lack of windows made it seem like it was 3am), and hauled our stuff downstairs on the slowest, tiniest elevator in the world. (It’s the kind with the two gates you have to pull shut yourself.) We found Kris and Orsi’s stuff sitting in the lobby, and Kris texted that they were getting the car. Matt and I walked over to Plaza de Armas. Kris said they were bringing coffee, but the plaza booth sold mallorcas.

I love this giant Christmas tree in the middle of the plaza. At night it’s fantastic.

You see the three wise men all over San Juan. We didn’t figure out what this was about until we got home. Apparently they like to hand out gifts to kids on the 12th night, the Noche de Reyes, when the reyes magos visit.

They arrived with the car and coffee, Matt arrived with the mallorcas, and we were off to Rincón.

Our first destination on our journey was La Ruta de Lechón, i.e. the pork highway. Matt had wanted to go there since he’d learned of its existence long ago, but obviously I was less than excited about visiting a road full of restaurants dedicated to pork. But we figured since there were now three meat eaters, we had to visit. Plus I kind of wanted to see it. (I had lunch backup in my bag just in case.)

When you exit the highway toward Guavate, you end up on a narrow road that winds up and down through the hills. There are restaurants and bars the entire way, and they all specialize in one thing: whole roasted suckling pig, the kind you have to start cooking at midnight the previous day. The lechoneras are up all night, and the places open when the meat is done. And it’s every single place.

For a while there’s a restaurant every half-mile or so, but if you keep going you’ll get to Guavate, which is an ENTIRE TOWN made up of lechón restaurants. It was amazing.

We parked and wandered down the block to find an ATM. We grabbed Medallas and stood around gawking at the sights. Then we went into El Rancho Express, since Kris had read that they were one of the recommended stops. It turns out they just have a pre-made plate, so they decided to cross over to El Rancho Original instead, where they could pick out all the meat they wanted.

The guys went to stand in the food line, and Orsi and I went to get beers and grab a table. We took note of the giant SANGRIIIA sign on the building across the street, because we’d seen that same banner at every single place along the way. (It was even more amusing knowing it’s made by a company called Gasolina, and comes in a pouch like Capri-Sun.)

Matt and Kris arrived with a giant spread that included various kinds of pig and pig skin, turkey, blood sausage, rice and peas, and roasted yam. And Sangriiia, of course. (Sadly, not in a pouch.) I was thrilled, because the rice and peas and yam were really good and I didn’t have to get out my Suncake.

While we ate, we watched the entertainment in the covered area next to us. It was full of picnic tables, and had a big stage where a couple of old guys were singing and playing. We didn’t know exactly what he was singing about, but one of the guys on stage had the old ladies swooning. People were dancing and singing along. It was fantastic. Every restaurant seemed to have their own version of that, too.

After lunch, we got back in the car and headed back to the highway toward Ponce. We hadn’t visited the western half of Puerto Rico before, but the landscape was really familiar since we’d flown over it on the way to and from Vieques. It’s very rural, with rolling hills and a constant view of the ocean.

We exited in Ponce, because Kris had a few stops there on his list. He told us there was a place called Cafe Cafe and another called Ponce Ponce. We found one of them (I don’t even remember which), and went in for coffee and beer. The other place didn’t exist. I think he was making the whole thing up.

Ponce is an adorable little town. (It’s actually second-largest in PR, but the historic downtown is small.) It has the same narrow streets as San Juan, and gorgeous old buildings. The town centers around a large square that features the Parque de Bombas. I’d seen photos of it before, but it was still kind of shocking to see sitting there. It’s such a weird, awesome building.

There’s a museum inside, with this awesome smoking goat in the lobby. (Note the cop not wanting to be photographed in the background.)

We did a lap of the square, picked up some souvenirs, and then headed down a pedestrian side street toward the town market that Kris had read about. The shops along the street were all kind of shady-looking, like stuff that fell off the back of a truck. We found the market, but it was closed. We couldn’t tell if it was closed for the day (it was mid-afternoon) or for renovations, but it seemed like the latter. I’d really like to go back and see it at some point, because it looked awesome. Also, Ponce was really cute.

We walked back to the car and headed toward Rincón. The highway was pretty fast until we hit Mayaguez, which appeared to be a town entirely made up of about 250 car dealerships and the brewery that makes Medalla and its much-crappier cousin, Silver Key. It took forever, between the traffic and the stoplights, since it was rush hour time. We finally made it to the far side of town where the turnoff for Rincón was, and found that the road was closed.

So we got to sit in more traffic, and finally got to the alternate route. From there, it wasn’t far into town. From the second we saw it, I knew we were going to like Rincón.

Orsi had rented a condo for us that was right across the street from the main beach. We drove through the tiny downtown and found the condo complex about a half-mile away. It was indeed across the street from the Balneario de Rincón.

They were quicker into the condo and claimed the master bedroom, so we were stuck with the room with the double bed, and bunk bed. The bunk bed was at least queen-sized, and ended up being fine. It’s a miracle neither of us got a concussion, though.

We unpacked and sat out on the patio while the sun set over the beach. We noted that there was some music and activity at the building right next to the beach, so we decided we’d need to check that out later.

We then went back down to the car and headed into town. We stopped at the grocery store to get supplies for our stay there (stuff to make breakfast, mixers, and snacks). Of course it took us forever to shop because people kept wandering off. After that, we went into the little downtown. The main square was all decorated for Christmas, and was adorable.

We stopped into Rincón Beer Company, where we got a table out on the sidewalk. Unfortunately they didn’t have any of their own beers on tap at the moment, but they had a good selection from other breweries (plus cocktails, and a small food menu).

After a couple rounds there, it was time to get dinner. We decided on La Cambija, because it had really good reviews. I was a little wary because it was a seafood restaurant, but it turned out they could make a few things vegetarian. (If there’s a note about it on the menu, that’s always a good sign.) Their mojitos were good, and the food was excellent. Plus it was just down the block from our condo.

After dinner, we stopped into the little restaurant/bar next door because they had a sign advertising that they sold ice, and the icemaker in our freezer didn’t work. Of course it just made sense to get a beer while were there, so we ended up sitting at the bar talking to the super-nice girl who worked there for a long time. Her name was Stefania, and she was Colombian. (Her English was excellent, and she told us she liked having the excuse to practice.) A couple guys we assumed were local came in, and Kris overheard them saying something about Minnesota, so he asked. It turned out that one of them lived in Maple Grove part-time, so he ended up being mercilessly hassled over that. Before they left, they gave us advice on other places to go in town, but the gist of it was “wait til it’s really late, drink a lot, get in your car, and drive up some winding mountain roads til you find a club”. So that wasn’t going to happen.

We said bye to Stefania and walked over to see what the music was about at the beach bar. It turned out to be a tiny hut with a big patio space full of tables, where old people hung out drinking cheap beer and singing karaoke. It was fantastic.

We grabbed a beer, then went back to the condo to play dominoes on the patio.

Saturday, I got up and Kris was crabby because we’d forgotten half of the ingredients we needed for a proper breakfast. We decided to go into town, get more groceries, and stop at the coffeeshop/bakery we’d noticed the night before. Matt was still asleep, so we left him a note.

We spent way too much more time at the grocery store, and then he dropped Orsi and I off at the cute hipster coffee shop while he circled. They didn’t really have breakfast stuff, though – mostly just cupcakes – so we just grabbed coffee for everyone and went to the car, then went back to the condo where Kris complained about making breakfast, even though that was the plan all along. (He won’t let anyone help, either.)

Then it was finally beach time. What a glorious beach it was.

We had it nearly to ourselves, and spend a very long time just bobbing around in the water drinking beer or Sangriiia packets that Kris launched from the beach. There was a seagull hanging out on a buoy, so I had to take the time to swim out to it and try to punch him off of it. (He flew away before I got there. Jerk.)

Once we had depleted our beer supplies and finished swimming, we went back to the condo and hung out in the pool for a bit, then headed upstairs to change. After that, we jumped in the car and drove the few miles to the Rincón lighthouse.

There was a big park surrounding it, with great views of the surfing beaches in the area. It’s hard to see in the photos, but there were a ton of surfers out that day. Also, the beaches were gorgeous.

It’s kind of amazing that there’s a good swimming beach located that near surfing spots. Usually you find those things on opposite sides of an island.

From there, we drove up into the hills above Rincón. (Our Minnesotan pal had told us the bars were down that way, so we figured we’d drive around and see what we found. On top of a big hill, we found a bar/surf shop with a good view of the ocean. It was across the street from this road sign, the awesome symbol of Rincón. (There’s nothing interstate about that main road.)

We had mojitos and tostones, and hung out for a while. Then we got back in the car and headed into town. Matt and Kris went back to the brewery, and Orsi and I went to do some shopping in town. Most of the stores were already closed, but I found a really cute woven purse and a Rincón sign at a cute shop run by a lady who split time between Puerto Rico and Hawaii. I thought we had it pretty good, but damn.

We joined them for a beer, and then took the car back to park it at the condo. We were there with just enough time to grab some Medallas and head to the beach for sunset.

Kris joined the Medalla ad campaign:

And here it is post-sunset. I really love that beach.

From there, we walked down to the far end of the beach to a little shopping area called Sunset Village. There was a big restaurant there named The Harbor, where we got a table out on the patio near the bar. They appeared to have a nice waterfront/beach there, but it was hard to see at night.

I was excited that their vegetable mofongo was actually really good, as were their mojitos. Everyone else had seafood. A band started setting up near the entrance, and eventually began playing Puerto Rican music. After a couple songs, they launched into Sweet Child of Mine. Awesome.

Post-dinner, we decided we needed to go back to the old-guy karaoke bar at the beach, but Orsi and I decided that first we needed to stop and say bye to Stefania and have a drink at her bar before we did so. Of course one drink with Stefania turned into three drinks and shots made by her boyfriend the chef. Then we headed to the karaoke bar, where we drank crappy beer and danced, trying not to fall over in flipflops.

And then, it was well past time to head back to the condo and sleep, since we had to get back to San Juan the next day.

We got up early, had a quick breakfast at the hotel, and got back on the interstate heading south. We exited at York, a town I’d visited before and really wanted Matt to see. It screams “Maine”.

Our first stop was the Nubble Light at Cape Neddick (above). We sat around looking at the coast for a while, and the really entertaining seagulls.

Most of the houses there are rentals. I would not be sad to have that experience.

From there we drove over to see the beach.

When in Maine, it’s important to drink like the locals do.

The water was cold, but the day was warm. There were a decent number of people out on the beach on a Friday morning.

I could look at this view forever. In fact, I intend to someday – just in a more Caribbean locale.

Back in York, we stopped at Stonewall Kitchen for some shopping and lunch on their patio. This was Matt’s second lobster roll, and by far his favorite.

Bally made a friend there.

After lunch, we took highway 1 across the bridge from Kittery into New Hampshire, because I knew Matt would love Portsmouth, too. It’s such an adorable little town. Since we were on a whirlwind driving tour, we didn’t really get much in the way of photos.

From there we got back on the interstate and headed toward Vermont. There were a few tolls along the way, but it was worth it to be able to drive 120kph (70mph) for once.

You’d think it would be a pretty quick trip through NH to VT, but it’s not. At least it’s scenic. The whole drive looks basically like this (there was also a ton of stuff we’d have loved to stop and see along the way, but unfortunately time is always the enemy):

We drove straight across New Hampshire and stopped right at the border at the exit for Dartsmouth to pick up snacks and drinks. I was sleepy, so I was glad Matt was taking over driving. The people at the store were all so talkative and gregarious, it made us nervous.

Burlington wasn’t much farther, which made us happy. We got off and drove into South Burlington, encountering the really crappy traffic Google had warned us about. We drove a few blocks north before going to the hotel, because we had to find this: it’s the world’s tallest filing cabinet.

(Since it’s Burlington, we passed at least three breweries on the way there.)

Our hotel was conveniently only a half-mile away, and the front desk lady was great. Even more conveniently, Magic Hat‘s brewery was across the street. We stopped in for some samples and the DIY tour, where Bally ran the video controls.

Then we drove into town and headed down to the port. It was hopping down there, with a few lakeside restaurants and the ferry terminal. We found the statue of Champ, the Lake Champlain monster, sitting there in the shipyard.

He also has a memorial closer to the waterfront:

Burlington’s harbor is really nice, and there were people with kayaks and paddleboards in the lake. It’s definitely our kind of town.

You can see New York from there!

The sunset wasn’t bad, either:

From there we drove into downtown and parked at the municipal ramp. There was an awesome little pedestrian area in the middle of town that reminded us of Santa Monica, and of course Ben & Jerry’s was right there. We’d picked out Farmhouse for dinner a while back, and weren’t too bothered by the half-hour wait, because they had a really nice beer garden out back. The place was super-crowded, which is always a good sign.

Once we were seated, we ordered the cheese board, which came with really excellent local cheeses and apple butter. Matt ordered a Heady Topper, one of the most raved-about beer nerd beers. It’s only available in very limited local release, so people go far out of their way for it.

(Matt told me later that the guy eating dinner by himself at the next table ordered two Heady Toppers, and stuffed one of the empty cans into his jeans pocket when he was done. Good souvenir.)

I had the restaurant’s famous corn cakes with mushrooms and kale. Matt had bourbon-braised chicken with barley. Everything was excellent, and their beer and cocktail list was the kind of thing that could lead to a lost evening. We restrained ourselves, though, since we had an early flight the next morning.

We did decide to stop into Captain Tom’s Tiki Bar for a nightcap, though, because it was a hilariously tacky bar in the alley behind Ken’s Pizza, and it was really nice outside. We had a drink there, and then it was time to head to bed, thankful that we’d already packed our bags earlier in the day. We agreed that we both really liked Burlington, and would love to see more of the area.

In the morning, we got up and drove up the PCH to Malibu. I remember really liking the beach there, and wanted to see it again.

I couldn’t remember where my sister and I had visited in the past, so we drove up into town, made our usual vacation-obligatory stop at Walgreens to get about 10 things, and then decided to stop in and see what Malibu Lagoon was about. We figured maybe we could walk to the beach from there.

Parking there was expensive, though, so we just pulled in and went to take a look at the lagoon. There were lots of birds hanging out, and a view of the ocean in the distance.

Rather than go to the beach there, we decided to drive back down to one of the many more accessible beaches we’d passed along the way. (The drive up and down the PCH in that area is really incredibly entertaining, seeing all the expensive beach houses hanging on the very edge of California, and all the surfing paraphernalia.)

We decided on Topanga State Beach, because it had cheaper parking, and looked, well, like this:

It was too cold to swim, but it was plenty warm to hang out in the sand, eat some Takis from Walgreens, and watch the surfers and shorebirds.

The waves were pretty small, but it was fun watching the system the surfers used to line up and decide who got what wave. There was a stand-up paddleboarder surfing, too, which I’ve never seen before. Usually they’re just on flat water.

After sitting and staring at the ocean for a good long time (possibly one of the most restorative activities possible), we went and tested the water temperature. It was freezing. (I’m not sure I could handle California water temps even in the summer, though. I turn into an icicle very easily.)

After watching our feet off and putting our shoes back on, we got back on the road and headed back into LA. Our lunch destination was Golden Road Brewing.

We found it between the Los Angeles River and some train tracks just off the Ventura Freeway, and had to park a ways down the street. Despite the place being gigantic – a huge hangarlike taproom, a covered and uncovered patio, and a fenced-in side yard, the place was absolutely packed. That seemed to have a lot to do with the USC-Notre Dame game on TV, and the fact that it was lunchtime.

Matt got a beer at the bar, and we stood around watching for someone to leave so we could sit down. After half an hour or so, we found a couple leaving from the end of a long table shared with a very exuberant group of college friends who had clearly been there for a while.

Even though they were packed, the service was quite fast. I was really excited about the menu, because they had multiple vegan options, including a really delicious tofu banh mi.

After lunch, we headed back in the direction of downtown. But first we pulled off near Griffith Park again, and went into Hollywood to find the nearest natural foods store. As with every visit to LA, I had to stop and pick up a bunch of Sun Cakes. They’re the best!!

From there, we headed into downtown. The 101 was backed up even more than usual, due to Ferguson-related protests. We finally made our way towards LA Live and found a parking ramp very nearby that wasn’t charging a ton of money for parking. There were a ton of people wandering around there already, even though it was a few hours before gametime.

We’d never been to LA Live before (it’s the entertainment complex surrounding Staples Center), and it was much bigger than expected. Also, there was an ice rink set up in the middle with Christmas music playing and people skating. Awesome.

We’d planned on going to Trader Vic’s, because even though we knew it’d be chain-y and far from the original, we still wanted to see it. We didn’t see its name on any of the signs, though, so we went to find a map. Where it should’ve been listed alphabetically with the restaurants, there was a blank spot. Apparently it had closed sometime recently.

We walked around a bit and looked into a couple of places that looked promising, but they had a wait for tables. There was an awesome-looking bar in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlson, but it wasn’t open yet. We decided to try Lucky Strike, the bowling alley, because it advertised that it had a big bar. Thankfully, that was one of the places that wasn’t packed yet at 5pm, and we were able to get a couch in the bar.

We hung out there for a long time, watching sports and the place fill up. I couldn’t believe how packed everything was, because LA Live seems to consist of only giant chains, not local bars or restaurants.

Then it was time to head to hockey! The LA Kings were hosting the Chicago Blackhawks, and we were really excited to see it.

There was a big line-up outside the arena, and the metal detector checks were running painfully slowly. It made me grateful for Xcel Center‘s efficiency. Finally, we got in and found our way to the third level. We were at one of the ends in the fourth row of the upper level, which were surprisingly good seats.

The pregame show had LASERS. Get on that, every other hockey arena.

The people in the seats next to us arrived, and we learned that they were a father and daughter from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. We ended up talking to them for nearly the entire game, because they were even nerdier about hockey than we are. We also discussed various cities in Canada (he refused to accept that we actually wanted to visit Montreal), travel, the awesome hotel they were staying at nearby (the Figueroa – we’d noted the awesome Moroccan-style lobby when we passed it earlier), and the fact that he knew half the staff of the Kings due to previous hockey-related jobs. They were really entertaining.

I’d never seen the Blackhawks play live, despite the fact that the Minnesota Wild is in the same conference with them, and we visit Chicago a lot. (I’m more of a college hockey loyalist with my Gophers, anyway.) The Kings are a really good team, too, but the Blackhawks completely destroyed them. It was amazing to see that in person!

The Kings were losing solidly with a few minutes left in the third, so we decided to head out a couple minutes early. (With most of the crowd, it turned out.) On the way to the car, Matt was regretting not stopping to use the bathroom, so we decided to go in and see if we could use the one at the Figueroa. While we were waiting there, our Canadian friends walked in. We said bye to them again, and headed to the car.

Our next stop was for a late dinner at Chego. We’d really wanted to visit one of Roy Choi’s restaurants in LA (since his Korean taco truck was so awesome), and when we mentioned that to the lady at the Velveteria, she told us he had an awesome place really nearby in Chinatown. We found it in the back of a strip mall, the only place open that time of night.

Here’s Matt’s dinner. My tofu bowl was incredible, too. Plus it was way too much for one meal, so we ate half of it and then wrapped it all up to take back to the hotel with us.

We were going to visit Cana once again after dinner, but at that point it was after 11, parking downtown was a mess, and I was tired. So we headed back to the hotel instead.

On our first visit to Barbados, we had intentions of going to the beach. We saw Bridgetown, visited the Mount Gay distillery, and then planned to go to the beach after lunch. Those plans were derailed when I left my camera in a cab going to lunch. Thankfully I got it back, but we never made it to the beach. I aimed to fix that this time.

We got up early, got breakfast and an excellent cappuccino from the coffee cafe (another big improvement on this cruise), and then went down to get on the shuttle bus in port. That dropped us at the pier shops, which you have to wind your way through in order to make it outside. From there, it was a short walk to the taxi stand. They piled everyone heading to a certain location in a minibus – Matt and I got the cramped front seat with our driver Roberts – and we were off to Rockley Beach (otherwise known as Accra).

I was feeling much better than the previous day, thanks to Dramamine and my Sea Bands (which I only wore overnight). I was still dizzy, but at least didn’t feel nauseous constantly.

We drove through Bridgetown, where Roberts confirmed that Big John’s, the awesome roti place where I discovered the loss of my camera, had indeed closed. Sigh. We dropped some people off at one stop south of town, and then headed onward to Rockley. There were some older Brits in the back, and all one of them did was ask semi-uncomfortable questions about the differences between England and its former Caribbean holding. He also complained about the price of everything, including the cab ride, which I thought was pretty reasonable at $15/couple.

Our driver dropped us at the Tiki Bar, and made arrangements to pick us up at  3:15.The deal there is you pay $30 for two chairs and an umbrella, and you get $40 (Bajan, which is $2-t0-$1 USD) ‘tiki bucks’ to use at the bar. Since we had no other plans besides beach and beer, that sounded fine to us. Plus the place was nearly empty when we arrived. We got chairs and a couple of Banks and hung out looking at the ocean.

I could look at this forever. It’s amazing.

We went for a swim after a while, and discovered there’s a sand bar a ways out that you can swim to. From there we were able to walk most of the way down toward the other end of the beach. We hung out in the water for a really long time, and then retired to our chairs again for more Banks. The Bajans are proud of their local beer because the reef-filtered water is so different from the volcanic water on the other islands, and for good reason: it’s delicious. We started ordering them in fours at the bar, because it was just easier.

After a while we went to swim again, and then switched to their delicious rum punch. I wanted to stay there longer, but Roberts started milling around the bar around 3pm. We went to use their bathrooms-in-a-cave one last time, and then climbed in the van. The Brits for some reason hadn’t used their tiki bucks up, so they were rushing to use them while a group of us sat waiting in the van. I was not a huge fan of them, but at least it started raining on them while they were still outside.

In the van, we ended up talking to a lady who was on the British P&O Oceana ship in port. She said she was in the middle of a 28-day cruise from Southhampton that was delayed for a few days because the weather was too bad to leave port. I felt like we got really lucky with just a blizzard!

Roberts dropped us at port. It was too late to go back into town, so we got a Mount Gay and coke at Coconuts, the bar at the dock where we’d previously celebrated having recovered my camera. We hung out there for a bit, eavesdropping on dumb girls. There was a wedding that had just taken place, apparently involving people from the Oceana, who got an ovation when they wandered into the bar. Awesome.

We headed into the port shops to look for interesting duty-free liquor (they had nothing special), souvenirs, and snacks. We got a set of the same awesome Banks dominoes we’d brought back for my father-in-law last time, because they’re the best; they have a little metal tack in the center that makes them slide well, and they’re really heavy. We picked up some snacks from the grocery store, including a pack of Go Ahead, because they’re my favorite British snack.

We ended up on one of the last shuttles back to the ship, around 5pm. We watched sailaway from our balcony, then took showers.

We then headed to Rendezvous to play canasta again before dinner. It was finally time to act like civilized people and have dinner in the main dining room, so we went down there about 7:30 and had hardly any wait for a two-person table. (The change in the way dining works on cruises the past few years is my favorite… it works like a regular restaurant now. You don’t have to show up at a fixed time and sit at a big table with strangers if you don’t want to.)

I had a porcini mushroom napoleon that was incredible, and really good potato masala curry. Matt had scallop crudo, French onion soup, a ribeye and red wine. We were way too full for dessert.

After dinner, we headed to the martini bar. We’d expected to find it packed – it was by far the most popular bar on the ship – but we had no trouble getting seats at the bar. This was another of the newly-redone spots, and it was great. The bartenders did flair, things like pouring 7 small cocktails from stacked shaker glasses all at the same time, and they were adorable. Also, the bartop was frozen… it was cold metal that they drenched with water, so it frosted over completely. It was a great setup. Their drinks were excellent, too!

The couple we’d met from Pittsburgh showed up, so we re-introduced ourselves again, as we’d of course all forgotten each others’ names. We ended up talking to them for a long time, and realized we have a ton in common. They even got married in Key West, and talked about moving there too!

They headed to bed, so we decided to do the same. After grabbing a to-go Manhattan, of course. We had them on our balcony, and then went to bed.

7am came way too early, despite our fairly early evening. It had been a week, and my seasickness was pretty much a permanent fixture at that point. It’s exhausting.

We’d at least planned ahead and ordered breakfast in the room, so we ate quickly, showered, and prepared. Our goal was to make the 9am water taxi at Red Hook, and we knew that would mean rushing off the ship. It was 8:15 by the time we disembarked, and Matt thought there was no way we should even bother hurrying at that point. I wanted to try, though, so we headed off in a hurry.

It had been pouring for a few minutes, and when the rain started to let up there was a huge double rainbow over the harbor in Charlotte Amalie. We left the port and headed through the duty-free shopping area, which was all closed since it was so early. We finally saw a parking lot full of really large taxi-shuttles, so I walked over and asked if we could get a ride to Red Hook. They put us in the backseat of the cab of a truck that had a penned-in bench area full of cruise people in the back, and headed off.

The lady driving the truck was in a HURRY. Which was awesome, because she knew we were in a huge hurry, too. I felt bad for the people in the back, though… we were seatbelted into an enclosed area, and they were sliding around on wooden benches in the back while she tore up and down hills, around tight curves, and slammed on the brakes repeatedly. But she got us to Red Hook in under 20 minutes, and we were just barely there in time for the ferry. I almost puked from seasickness and the ride, but that was fine.

We found Jessie (my former coworker) and her wife Kate in the ferry terminal. They were there on their honeymoon, so we’d planned to meet them and go over to St John. That worked out well!

We hopped on the ferry and were at the dock in Cruz Bay in 15 minutes. That was far preferable to the 45-minute ride from Charlotte Amalie, on the 10am ferry. (It runs hourly from Red Hook, and only a couple times a day from Charlotte Amalie.) We had plans to go pick up some beer and head to the beach, so we walked into town to find a grocery store. We couldn’t find one (despite the town being very tiny), but a local pointed us in the right direction. We picked up St John Brewers beer, plus some SPF 50 sunscreen so we didn’t fry again.

Kate said they’d been there the previous day to do some scouting, and found a beach that was a 5-minute walk. We figured we’d take a cab to Trunk Bay, but that sounded fine to us. We set off toward the entrance to the National Park (the island is almost entirely park) , and Kate led us to a trail head. It promptly turned into an actual dirt and gravel hiking trail.

We climbed up a hill over rocks, and at that point I was questioning this decision. I was so seasick that it was all I could do to stay upright, and we were both wearing flipflops. I figured it would only be five minutes, though, so that was fine.

Twenty minutes later, we got to the sign pointing down a steep hill to the beach. Our water was gone, but at least we had beer. We climbed down carefully and found Solomon Beach. It was nearly empty.

We set up in a shady spot under a tree, and sat there on the beach talking for a good long time with our beers. I started to feel less like throwing up as soon as I sat down. Seasickness is definitely NOT my favorite thing in the world.

After a while, Matt and I went to snorkel near the rocks. Then we all hung out in the ocean for a while, until we finally agreed it was time for lunch.

The hike back didn’t seem as arduous, but I still really wish we had water. We’re generally prepared, but the hike had been a surprise! Kate seemed fine, though:

We climbed back down to the visitor center, where I was perturbed to find a nonfunctioning drinking fountain. We headed into town for lunch, in search of St John Brewers. We found their brewpub on the second floor of a little mall.

I couldn’t decide if I was more excited for air conditioning or water, but I enjoyed the hell out of both (plus their beer). We had lunch there, then went downstairs to their gift shop for some souvenirs.

We still had a bit of time to kill before we had to be back on the ferry to St Thomas, so we went to a bar in Cruz Bay that they’d been to before. It was right on the beach, and we could see the ferry dock from there so we were unlikely to miss it. On the way there, we ran into our friends from Pittsburgh, who had come over on the ferry from Charlotte Amalie with the cruise excursion.

We had drinks there, watching people load up the ferry. Then we realized how late it was getting, and it was time to hurry. We said goodbye to Jessie and Kate, because they’d decided to stay til the next ferry. Matt and I boarded, and went up to the top to get the seats with a view. Probably not a great idea with the sunburn, but it was nice being up there.

Back at Red Hook, we piled into cabs back to port. I ended up in the back seat next to a couple from Georgia. The husband was hilarious, and kept wanting to talk about rum because he’d drank so many of them in St John. His wife kept shushing him, telling him he was bothering me. He wasn’t at all; it was good entertainment for the ride back.

We ran into traffic heading into town (the traffic we’d been warned about, that could make your ride to Red Hook take 45 minutes instead of 20). The driver dropped us at the duty-free shops, which were once again mostly closed because the ship was leaving soon. We walked back to the dock.

This is all I’ve seen of Charlotte Amalie in my two visits to St Thomas. I’m sure it’s a nice town, but there are way more awesome things in the USVI!

We boarded the ship with a six-pack of St John Brewers beers, figuring they’d probably take them from us and then we could bring them to Vieques. They didn’t even care, though, so we took them to the room and had one for sailaway.

It was a little sad leaving the Virgin Islands because it was our last night on the cruise. At the same time, I was sick to death of feeling like crap from the seasickness, so I was excited to be on land again. It helped that we had the post-trip planned, so we didn’t have to go home right away.

We showered and started packing our bags, because they had to be ready for the porters by 11pm. It was a long, involved process due to the many breakable souvenirs, including three bottles of rum. We took a break after a while and went to have snack in the buffet (I had a salad), then got a drink at the pool bar to take back to the room. We finished packing, then went up to Marlon’s bar to play dominoes.

After a while, we went down to dinner one last time in the main dining room. The meal was fine, but they seemed totally half-assed about everything since it was the last night. Our bread had no butter, Matt got the wrong entree, and service was slow. We didn’t really care, though. The food was mostly fine.

We stopped at our room to put our bags in the hall, then went to the martini bar for one last cocktail there. We sat around watching the awesome flair bartenders, and then headed to Michaels Club, where of course we found our Pittsburgh friends waiting.

Matt had been eyeing the Yamazaki the entire cruise, and he’d decided he was going to have it on the last night. (It was something like $45.) I had a Fin Du Monde while he had that, and we all got to taste it. When we went to close out, the bartender neglected to charge us for it. I’m not sure that was intentional, but it really seemed that way.

We exchanged contact info with our new pals, got a to-go Manhattan for the room, and headed to bed.

I had a lot of trouble sleeping because of my cold and seasickness (oh no, it never goes away right away!), but I still got up at 9:15 feeling much better than I had on the ship. I went to make coffee, and we had breakfast on the patio. I was so happy to have decent Puerto Rican coffee, too.

We showered and got geared up for the beach, which required more work than you might think: we needed towels, cooler, beer, lots of water, some snacks, sunscreen, cold medicine and kleenex, and beach chairs (which we found in the closet at the hacienda). We piled all those things in the Jeep and headed toward Blue Beach, the one the people at the airport had liked the best.

I noticed when I turned the Jeep hard to the left that the steering wheel kind of caught, and I had trouble steering. I figured maybe that was just a Jeep thing, but I wasn’t sure. Driving that big bouncy thing around with vertigo was pretty entertaining, too.

The turnoff for the nature preserve was a few miles down the road toward Esperanza. From there it’s a few miles on a potholed, washboard road covered in horse poop, because there are wild horses wandering around everywhere. It’s fantastic.

There are a few beaches along the way, but we wanted to go to the one that was known for having signs about unexploded bombs. There was a mysterious detour along the way, near some mysterious gates with multiple ‘no trespassing’ signs. We got to the beach access road, and drove until we found a little parking area that had the fewest cars (there are 13 beach access spots, and apparently 11-13 have gazebos; they were the most crowded. We went to 7, right by the road closure.) There was a sign there warning us to stay on travelled paths, because otherwise we might be blown up by 1950s bombs. SERIOUSLY.

We’d been told by the people at the airport that theft was a problem at the beaches, with all those untended cars sitting around. The solution was to take everything with you, and just leave the windows of the car open so they didn’t get broken.

So, yeah, check out just how crowded Blue Beach was.

There weren’t any shady spots to be had, so we set up our beach chairs and cooler and covered ourselves in SPF 50. We cracked some beers and just hung out looking at the ocean. There was an island that was fairly close to shore, and there were signs all over it warning people to not go onto the island because of unexploded ordnance. (Pictured in the header above.) Snorkel boats were bringing people to swim at the reef right next to it, though.

We went to swim for a long time, which mainly consisted of bobbing around in the water. The temperature was perfect. After that we sat in our beach chairs again, and decided to cut open the mysterious fruit I’d picked up at the bodega the previous day. It turned out to be the world’s largest yellow avocado, so we ate that with a bag of plantain chips.

A guy named Brandon (who Matt termed the “one-man brodown”) showed up with three women, and they picked a spot far too close to us, since we could hear all the immense douchiness Brandon was broadcasting around the beach. We decided that was a good opportunity for us to go get lunch, so we packed up our stuff, threw it in the Jeep, and headed toward Esperanza. We met these horses along the way:

The town was about five miles or so from the entrance to the nature preserve, on the south side of the island. It was right in the middle of the lunch hour, so the tiny town was crowded. There were a bunch of food trucks and some trinket tents set up in the parking lot at the pier, and a few open-air restaurants facing the malecon. We drove slowly through town checking out our options, and had to go down a few blocks to find parking. We ended up parked next to Lazy Jack’s, a combination hippie restaurant and hostel. (I’d decided from their ad on the tourist map that I didn’t like it, but I really have no idea why.)

We wanted to have lunch at El Blok, a new Jose Enrique restaurant that was also illustrated on the map. It was about three blocks down the malecon, so we headed that direction. We rounded the corner to find the spot that El Blok would be, once construction was finished. It wasn’t even close. (Don’t ever change, Puerto Rico.)

We turned around and decided on Duffy’s (another place I’d judged as a crappy bro-bar based on their tiny ad on the map, but that wasn’t true at all; I don’t think that’s really possible in Esperanza). We got a seat, and were greeted by an awesome server. Their menu said they had the island’s largest selection of craft beers, and that was no joke; there were some selections from the Old Harbor Brewery that we’d visited in San Juan, and a beer fridge full of craft beer from all over the place. I ordered an Abita Turbodog and a veggie burger; Matt had a Stone IPA and a pastele with pork. (Pasteles are traditional Christmas food in Puerto Rico, but the server said they had the guy who made them chained up in the back because they were so good. The tostones were amazing, too.)

After his beer, Matt ordered the house special, the Parcherita, which was a passionfruit margarita with a salt and demerara sugar rim. I just tried his, since I had to navigate a Jeep on the world’s narrowest roads. Our server said people loved them so much that they’d had them as the cocktail at their weddings in Vieques. I couldn’t argue with that, because it was delicious.

By that point, I’d started to realize just how much Esperanza reminded me of Negril, just much tinier. It was really laid-back, everybody was friendly, there were locals drifting in and out of bars, and everywhere you looked there was an amazing view. Even better than Negril, it was clearly gay-friendly… there were rainbow flags everywhere. I was suddenly very, very happy to be there.

We wanted to stay all day, but we had more beaches to visit. We headed to the Jeep and made some phone calls, both to the house’s owner who was checking in, and to make reservations for the BioBay tour on Monday night. Esperanza was one of the few places on the island where we reliably had a phone signal, if not internet connectivity. The owner said the house had wifi and that we just needed to get the password off the router, but that it was also very common for the phone company to “accidentally” cut the lines for DSL, and it would take forever for them to repair it. I told him we’d check and let him know.

The Jeep was still having that weird steering issue every time I made a tight turn (like a u-turn, which I did a lot in Vieques), so I was going to call the car rental place to ask them about it. Matt suggested we just drive over there, since it was only a few miles away. Vieques is indeed tiny! We headed over there, along one of the roads that ran north-south across the island. The road was very windy and forested. We saw a couple places along the way that we wanted to stop – one was an awesome-looking bar with a corrugated aluminum roof, and one was the place we were planning to have dinner later.

We got to Maritza’s, and I stopped into the office to describe the steering issue with the Jeep. They summoned the mechanic, and he took it for a spin (literally) in the parking lot. He said it was just low tires, so they filled them up and we were on our way again. Everyone there was super-friendly, too.

On the way back, we decided to stop into Tin Box (the corrugated-roof place) for a drink. The parking lot was fairly empty, but it appeared to be open. We parked and as we walked in, a older lady working there barked “WE’RE CLOSED!” I asked when they’d be open, and she said “Tuesday”. As we left, there were a few people walking up in obviously wedding-related clothing, so we were pretty sure it was closed for a private event. (That would be the one crabby person we talked to on Vieques.) We got back on the road and headed to Red Beach/Caracas (every beach in Vieques has two names – a color, and a local name).

It was down the same road as Blue Beach, inside the nature preserve. It was “crowded” when we got there, in that there were probably 50 people on the entire beach. A lot of them appeared to be packing up to go, though, since for some reason morning is beach-time. There was a large group of hippie-looking people partying at the far end of the beach, and also there was a nun. A BEACH NUN. I was so excited.

We also saw Brazilian Derek Jeter strutting up and down the beach in his Speedo. He kept going in the water to splash his crotch. I have no idea, but it was pretty entertaining to watch. We hung out and had some beers, then went to swim until about 5:30.

This is my absolute favorite time of day on the beach, when the sun starts to get low:

When we’d been in the water long enough to get cold, it was time to head out. We very nearly had the entire beach to ourselves at that point, too. We dried off at the car, put clothes on over our bathing suits, and headed back toward Esperanza for dinner. When you’re on an island, you don’t have to be that classy. (I did tell Matt I thought we were under-dressed, but he disagreed.)

Next Course was on the road near Maritza’s, and I was glad we’d driven that way before, since we’d have to drive it in the dark. Between the narrow, curvy roads and the lack of street lighting, I was pretty wary of having to do that.

The place had a steep driveway going down to a hairpin turn to a parking lot, which had a line of four or five Jeeps that were basically identical to ours, all backed in to the spots. We did the same, laughing because the one next to ours was even the same exact color. The place wasn’t too busy yet, but it was small enough that reservations would definitely be required later in the evening.

They gave us a spot on the balcony, overlooking the line of Jeeps, a valley in the middle of the island, and the coast of Puerto Rico in the distance. It was hard to complain about that.

Their menu was excellent, both food and cocktails. It was sort of California-style Caribbean cuisine, with lots of local ingredients. I had broiled watermelon with goat cheese and radish greens, and Matt had oysters Rockefeller.

Then I ordered a wild mushroom pizza, and he got butter-poached lobster with crab risotto and fennel cream. We didn’t want dessert, but when the menu arrived, we noticed that one of the options was to buy the kitchen beers for a dollar apiece. Our server said there were four people working back there, so that seemed like a pretty solid investment for four bucks. They deserved it.

The place was pretty much full by the time we left, and Matt was right – there was a wide array of dress there, though people did tend towards fancier. (I was wearing a dress, at least.) When we got to the Jeep, I understood why everyone had backed in – the parking lot was full, and there were cars parked along the wall across from us. I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to get the Jeep out of there, but after a few well-executed manuevers we escaped.

The drive back was as harrying as I’d expected. I was driving slow enough to have cars stacked up behind us, but I didn’t care. It was hard to navigate by landmarks at night, too, but luckily the road in Destino had some streetlights. We found the ramshackle, and decided to drive up to Colmado Mambo, the not-as-shady-looking bodega, for Barrilito and a few other things. As we passed the road to our neighborhood, there was a car sitting there with running lights but without its headlights on.

I pulled up in a spot out front, and Matt said he’d run in. I looked over at another vehicle parked there, and saw a bunch of faces looking at me. It was super-creepy, to the point where I was conviced we were going to be robbed. I decided to prepare for it, by hiding the only thing we could not lose: Bally Basketball. I put him under Matt’s seat and then played with my phone, not looking at them, til Matt FINALLY emerged from the store. It seemed to take forever.

He said that nobody in the store could be bothered to do anything, and that though there were a bunch of cars out front, there was no one in the store. I pulled out of the spot, passed the creepy van, and went to make a U-turn in the street just past the parking lot. Just as I did that, someone laid on the horn and freaked me out. I didn’t think they were honking at us (since we weren’t in anyone’s way), but then I remembered the headlight-less car waiting by our hacienda and decided that we were most definitely going to be murdered.

I was trying to figure out what to do if we got there and the car was still waiting, because the police station was most definitely behind us, and ahead was a whole bunch of marshy, empty area and the ocean. We were totally dead, and someone was going to steal Bally. I was so freaked out by the whole thing that I missed the turn by the ramshackle, and  the car wasn’t even there anymore. Somehow we had CHEATED DEATH.

I didn’t tell Matt about this non-murder-plot til we were back in the house showering, because it was too embarrassing. He agreed that the people in the van were definitely shiftless and creepy, though!!

Our hacienda hadn’t been hard to find in the dark, so that made me feel better about driving around there, since our BioBay tour wasn’t until 10pm the next night.

We hauled our leftovers and other things into the house, did dishes from the previous night, and I started laundry. Then we went to play Moby Dick, the nerdiest card game ever, on the patio. It calls for a “measure of grog” to pass back and forth as an indication of whose turn it is, and Matt had conveniently purchased an actual half-gill measure at Nelson’s Dockyard in Antigua. Our nerdiness was absolute.

After our game, a moth flew up onto the patio and started flying all over the place like it was crazy. We decided it was horny, and headed inside before it attacked us anymore. While we were bringing our things inside, we discovered a little coqui that had taken up residence between the slats of the chair to spend the night. So cute!

Matt played an Indonesian drum in the house for a while (because why not?) and we went to bed around midnight. I was smart this time and took dramamine, which meant I slept far better. I still had my cold, but there was something about being on an island that made me barely even notice.

Monday morning, the in-laws went to partake in the free breakfast at the onsite restaurant. We’re not really breakfast people, so we chose to sleep in and make coffee in the room. They came back with a bunch of gossip from the restaurant owner, who is apparently different than the guy who runs the resort. He had no end of complaints about how the owner had no interest in upgrading the place at all, and just wanted to make money off it. Which is sad, because it was a beautiful location with a ton of potential.

The beach didn’t look so bad in the morning. Still no Jamaican beach, but it looked more swimmable at high tide. The waves were really rough, though, so the guy who ran the boats said it was unlikely we’d be able to go out that day. Which was fine, because we had other plans involving the ocean.

We drove south into Marathon and stopped at Publix to buy a styrofoam cooler and picnic food. We got crusty bread with cheese and cured meat, grapes, snacks, beer, and water, packed everything up in the car, and drove to Bahia Honda State Park.

The park map showed two beaches, so we picked one and headed that way. It turned out that there was just a parking lot separating the two of them, one facing the Atlantic and one facing the Gulf. We decided to check out the Atlantic side first, so we grabbed all our stuff from the trunk and climbed over the dune to find this:

The beach was gorgeous and uncrowded. Judy and Harlan set up towels and parked themselves on the beach with beers, while Matt and I took ours in the water. It was so nice there, I didn’t even care about our less-than-optimal hotel beach.

We bobbed around for a while, and ended up talking to a guy from Madison, Wisconsin (we always meet people from Wisconsin on vacation, and I’m not sure why) who said he and his wife were camping there at the park. They had to make reservations a year in advance, and the place fills up within a few hours of the reservations opening. I wasn’t surprised at all. He said they once made the mistake of not setting up their tent on the provided pad, and his wife had chigger bites so bad she had to go to the hospital. Wow.

After a while, we went to grab masks and my snorkel. The waves were a little rough because of the storm offshore, but I couldn’t believe how much life there was even within ten feet of the beach. I saw a few live conch, too! As requested by the state of Florida, I left them alone to crawl around the sea floor.

After snorkeling and exhausting ourselves swimming back to the beach against the current, we decided to go over to the other side of the peninsula and have our lunch. We found a picnic table with this view, so it was obviously the perfect spot.

The west-facing side of the park features the old railroad bridge that was originally the only way to travel down the Keys over land. It makes for a really picturesque view, too. The overseas highway isn’t pretty, but it’s a fascinating structural feat.

After lunch, we walked up to see the railroad bridge up close.

This is the gulf-side beach from above. It seemed to be more crowded than the Atlantic side, and the water wasn’t as clear.

The in-laws went to wander around and see the historic sites while Matt and I went for a swim at the beach. After a while, we headed over to the shower building to clean up and change, and then we were back on the road heading north over the 7-mile bridge. I wanted to do some shopping, so we stopped at the sandal shop, and at a giant shell store in Marathon to pick up souvenirs. While we were there, we asked the girls working (who I’m pretty sure weren’t old enough to drink, but whatever) if they could recommend a good tiki bar in the area. They gave us a couple options, and we headed out.

Tiki bars are tricky in Florida, because that’s their name for everything with a thatched roof, as far as we could tell. You’re sometimes lucky to find a place that can make you a mojito, much less a classic tiki drink. At that point, I just wanted a bar where we could sit outdoors and have a pina colada.

One of the places they recommended was Lulu’s, right down the street. It’s a restaurant in a cute house, but the main attraction for us was the gigantic round tiki hut in the garden next door. It reminded us of our favorite spot in Negril, 24/7 (R.I.P.). We parked in back and chased off a few big iguanas from the yard, then got seats at the bar. The bartender was a quiet older guy who warmed up once my in-laws started talking to him. We all ordered boat drinks, and Judy and I got the pina coladas we wanted.

After a while, I went to check out the garden. It reminded me a lot of Just Natural in Negril, and there were iguanas and geckos hanging out all over the place. Even though the garden is right near the road, it’s a really quiet little oasis. I would love to have a place like that someday.

The in-laws wanted to go back to the hotel for a mid-afternoon nap, so Matt and I dropped them off and headed back to Marathon. We stopped at a combination deli/liquor store and stocked up on supplies for later, then drove back down to the beginning of 7 Mile Bridge. There’s a small parking lot where you can stop and walk out onto the old bridge, which runs alongside the new one. It extends to Pigeon Key (which you can still only visit via boat, unless you want to bike or jog there), and then there’s a gap before it continues on alongside the modern bridge.

We walked out on the bridge for the view, and to watch the Atlantic and Gulf run together. That looked kind of turbulent.

Afterwards, we drove down around to the other side of the bridge to visit Sunset Grille. The place looks like a gigantic tiki hut, so of course I took note of it every time we drove past. We got mojitos and Matt ordered smoked fish dip, which is something he and his parents would end up eating about 10 more times on the trip.

We sat at the rail overlooking Seven Mile Bridge, the ocean, and a giant patio with a swimming pool, a smaller tiki bar, and what appeared to be a movie screen. It was basically the template for the bar I went to own someday.

We had another round just to sit there enjoying the view, and then it was time to head back to the hotel to pick up the in-laws for dinner. We headed back down to Marathon to Island Fish Company, another place that had been recommended to us more than once. We were seated on the patio right by the docks, and ordered mai tais. Our server was awesome, and told us he used to live in the Twin Cities, working for Northwest Airlines. Now he splits time between the Keys and Maui. (Matt and I died of envy at this point.)

They had a veggie burger on the menu, which made me pretty happy. Also, the view did not suck at all:

Before leaving, we got our server’s advice on bars where locals hung out, and that were unlikely to close at 8pm. He recommended Brass Monkey as the place he hung out most often, because they have bands all the time. When he told us it was in the strip mall behind the K-Mart, Matt and I knew that was a place we had to see.

If you picture what a bar in a strip mall might look like, you’re on the right track. It was dark, smoky, a huge dive, and had a fantastic jukebox and cheap drinks. I cringed when my father-in-law ordered a stinger, waiting for the bartender to ask what the hell he was talking about. But he was very professional, and said “sure!” and headed to the back of the bar where we saw him quietly asking the other bartenders, who I’m pretty sure Googled it. Awesome.

There was Appleton VX and Bubble Butt on the jukebox, and nobody even seemed to care when Harlan went to play a cheesy country song. I wanted to stay there forever, but of course we had plenty to see before noon the next day.

We got up before 10 on Friday and called to order breakfast. They delivered trays with coffee, eggs, a scone, toast, kiwi, butter and marmalade, and orange juice to our table on the patio. The above was our view. Fantastic.

Matt read about the upcoming Cup Match in the paper. There was a lot of cricket drama. Since we heard about it from everyone there, we really wanted to go. (Next time.) Gerald the maintenance guy stopped by and chatted for a long time, too. Everyone in Bermuda is so unbelievably nice! We loved it.

We walked down to the ferry terminal in Hamilton, bought tokens, and waited for the ferry. It arrived, and so many cruise passengers piled off that we couldn’t believe the boat was still above water. We boarded, went up to the roof, and enjoyed the view of the harbor, which was full of little islands, tiny sailboats, and some amazingly huge yachts.

It took about half an hour to get to the Dockyard. It’s not far, but most of the harbor is a no-wake zone. We saw the Clocktower Mall from the ferry, and also two ships in port. One of them was the Celebrity Summit, which we’d taken on our last cruise. SIGH.

We got off the ferry and headed to the Bermuda Maritime Museum, which is housed in the old fort and ramparts at the Dockyard. By the time we had walked around for 5 minutes, we were completely drenched in sweat: it wasn’t that hot (maybe mid-80s), but it was insanely humid. Even moreso than the record humidity we’d left in Minneapolis. We were grateful every time we encountered even a tiny bit of air conditioning.

The commissioner’s house was really interesting. They had a ton of exhibits about Bermuda’s history, some current artwork, and a tour of the fort underneath. Some of the rooms had A/C, too, so we enjoyed our time there. The view of the Dockyard was excellent as well:

Behind the main buildings, we discovered the reason for the sheep gate.

We also saw Snorkel Park from the fort wall. It’s the most popular place for cruise passengers to visit, because it’s an easy walk and has a bunch of entertainment. It was the only truly crowded place we saw the entire time we were there, too. It’s hard to imagine anything there being packed, even though the island is tiny. We were a little off-season, though. (Locals told us the best time of year to visit is September and October; we chose to go earlier in the year not just because of the wedding, but because the ocean is only warm enough to swim in during the actual summer.)

The fort reminded me a lot of San Juan, but more recent:

We did a little more wandering around the site, and stopped by the dolphin encounter to see the dolphins swimming around and to get some much-needed water.

Then it was lunchtime! We headed to the Frog & Onion (which contains Dockyard Brewing Company), and promptly ordered a beer sampler.

I also got a vegetable curry that I’m still fantasizing about today. Once our sampler was gone, we got a couple of pints in souvenir glasses (mine came in a mini growler!), and then headed to the souvenir shop. After that, we stopped by the booths in the mall for some samples. The best one was of a Dark & Stormy made with Barritt’s, which required us to tell the story of why we were there. The lady gave us their business card, and it had the name of the guy who’d booked the trip for us on it. Awesome.

We shopped around the craft market for souvenirs, then wandered over to Clocktower Mall. We then headed back toward the ferry dock, and decided to see about renting scooters and driving ourselves back to Hamilton. The people at the scooter shop assured us that our many souvenir bags would fit in the compartments, so we headed out for our road test.

They showed us how to drive them, and directed us to go around the loop by the museum and ferry dock. It was a one-way street with a maximum speed limit of 20, but it was still full of tourists, cars, and other scooters. I headed off slowly and shakily. Rounding the corners was nowhere as easy as I expected, nor was stopping. When I finished the loop, the guy there told me to wait a minute for Matt. When he didn’t appear, the guy told me to go do another loop and practice, so I headed off, slightly less shaky this time. (Part of the reason it was so intimidating was not just the traffic, but the fact that you have to remember to drive on the opposite side of the road.)

When I got back the second time, I saw Matt standing there with a bloody knee. He’d hit the brakes at the corner, but the scooter had other ideas and sped up. Scooters were definitely not for us! We walked over to the store to find a bandage, but they didn’t have anything appropriate. Matt said he’d be ok, so we went to the store by the ferry to get two-day transit passes instead. I was kind of relieved about the scooter decision, because I’d seen the traffic in Hamilton and at the roundabouts, and I would’ve been terrified trying to navigate that.

We sat on a bench to wait for the ferry, and Matt dabbed at his knee with a napkin. There was an old local couple sitting on a bench nearby eyeing us. The lady ran over when she saw what was up, knowing right away it was a scooter accident. She rushed over to a garden, yanked off a piece of aloe, and brought it over to Matt. Nature’s medicine!! She said she was a nurse, and showed him how to apply it. We loved her a lot. (Another running theme in Bermuda: locals telling us to not even bother with scooters, because they get in accidents constantly. In related news, Bermuda has a excellent bus system.)

We thanked Cynthia, our new nurse friend, and boarded the ferry back to Hamilton.

We walked back to the hotel so Matt could fix up his knee, and by then his ankle was hurting a lot (the scooter had rolled onto it). Since the ocean obviously has healing powers, we decided to go to the beach. We walked back into town, found the main bus terminal, and hopped on the bus to Horseshoe Bay. We had a map with fairly nonspecific stop markers, so I tried to keep general track of where we were. I knew we were close once we passed Elbow Beach, and I made a mental note of the location of the Swizzle Inn on the South Shore, too. The bus pulled over at a stop and I caught a glimpse of the Horseshoe Bay sign, so we hopped off and headed down the path to the beach.

There were a few families headed back up the path, and all of them were panting and looking like they might die. That wasn’t a great sign, but it was worth it for what we found at the bottom of the giant hill:

Horseshoe Bay was gorgeous. The rental building and snack shop had closed (it was after 4pm), but we had everything we needed. We headed right into the water, and it was perfect. Also, the pink sand thing is no joke… the sand is flecked with little bits of red. We put some in a baggie to bring home with us.

We bobbed around for a long time, and watched people cliff-diving off the far rocks. When we were finally done swimming, we went to see the little sheltered cove where all the kids were swimming enclosed by rocks. It was like a kiddie pool for the ocean.

We wanted to go to the Swizzle Inn, and since it was nearby, I figured we could just grab a taxi (there had been a few of them waiting at the beach) and go up there for less than $10. The taxis had all left, though, so we had to climb up the huge hill to the road. Panting, we went to look at the bus schedule. The next bus wasn’t coming for another half-hour, so we hailed a cab and had him take us to Swizzle Inn.

The place was nearly full when we arrived, and we had to wait forever for service. We stared longingly at other people’s food and rum swizzles. Finally, a server came to take our order. After that, everything was quick: we had a picture of rum swizzles in short order, and were very happy to be alive. Their limited vegetarian options meant that I ended up ordering nachos, but they were surprisingly good. Matt had a bowl of Portuguese red bean stew and some conch fritters.

Two pitches of rum swizzles and one meal later, it was time to head back to Hamilton. We hopped on the next bus, which was gloriously cold from the air conditioning. We exited on Front Street, and got back to the hotel about 10:30.

We stopped at the front desk to request the shuttle to Elbow Beach at 11 the next day, and also find out where the ice machine was. The old guy working there took us to find the ice, which happened to be located in the same room as the honor bar. (We’d looked for it earlier in the day, but only managed to find the kitchen.) Matt mixed us some Dark & Stormys, and wrote down our order on a piece of paper for the front desk. From the looks of the spindle there, a lot of the visitors had been taking advantage of the honor bar.

We went to our room, put our beers, Scrumpies, and Matt’s WKD in ice, and sat out on the patio listening to the incredibly noisy birds who sang all night long. (I’ve since learned that they’re called kiskadees.) We ended up with a bunch of empty bottles around 12:30am, so went inside to go to bed. I was in the bathroom half-undressed when the smoke detector went off. I put my pants back on sans-underwear and called the front desk.

The same old guy appeared about 5 minutes later. We were sitting back out on the patio, unable to take the horrible screeching noise. He and Matt went in, and it seemed like they were in there forever. At one point I thought the alarm had finally been turned off, but it turned out that the kiskadees were actually just drowning it out. (Seriously, they’re LOUD.)

The alarm shut off after twenty minutes or so, and I went in to find the smoke detector laying on the cabinet. We could finally go to bed!

We got up at 9 on Saturday morning, had an equally great breakfast on our patio again, then walked into Hamilton to go to the Gosling’s liquor store. We wanted some beer to take to the beach, and to find out what unfamiliar rums they might want to sell us. The guy there told us that since we were flying out, we would have to buy duty-free at the airport, which was fine with us. They had regular and duty-free prices listed for everything, and the difference was huge. We decided to just pick up some Scrumpies for the beach.

We stopped at a couple other souvenir shops on Front Street (knowing it might be our last chance, since they’d be closed later), then headed back to the hotel to get the beach shuttle.

We ended up riding there with a group of women from New Jersey, who were pretty entertaining. We told them the story of how we got there, and they were all very excited about it. When the driver found out we were from Minnesota, he started exclaiming about the Twins, and told us how he was one a very good minor league ballplayer in the U.S. (he lives part-time in New York). He told us he’d be back to pick us up at the beach at 3:30, and we told him we may or may not take the bus back earlier, so he shouldn’t wait on our behalf.

Elbow Beach was gorgeous. Only slightly less gorgeous than Horseshoe Bay, which had cemented itself in my mind as my favorite.

We walked down to the Australian guy with chairs and umbrellas (we named him Crocodile Dundee, of course) and rented a couple. We sat and enjoyed a couple of Scrumpy Jacks, and marveled at how very hard our lives were.

We went to swim for a while, and Matt practiced his wave-punching. I couldn’t believe how clear the water was there.

We went to hang out in our chairs for a while and have another Scrumpy. There weren’t many people on the beach, but watching them was still pretty entertaining. A bit later, we went to go snorkel.

There are a couple reefs that are really near the beach, and there were way more fish there than I expected. Smiley fish was my favorite:

Once our backs were sufficiently sunburnt (we’re terrible with sunscreen) and we were starting to get hungry, we walked over to the Elbow Beach resort next door. Nobody seemed to mind that we were over there using their bathrooms, showers, and changing stalls, which was awesome. While I was changing, a guy working there asked Matt how his day was going. He said it was excellent, and the guy told him his wasn’t because Amy Winehouse died. Then he walked away, leaving Matt to wonder if that randomness was actually true.

They were preparing for a wedding reception at the downstairs bar, so we went upstairs for a rum swizzle and appetizer. They were setting up tables on the lawn there, too. I don’t even want to imagine what a wedding at the Mandarin Oriental in Bermuda must have cost.

We headed back up toward the South Road to the bus stop, wishing we’d taken the more direct route from the beach: the climb through the resort was brutal. We were very grateful, once again, for the air conditioning on the bus. We rode back to Front Street, stopped to shop at the soccer store, and then walked up to the grocery store we’d seen near the bus station. A guy was getting out of his car, and told us he was out working on his tan (he was really dark-skinned). We laughed and said we were working on burning, so he told us the solution to that was to keep moving, kind of like a rotisserie. Awesome.

Our main goal at the store was something I knew I would have to find on the island: one of my favorite snacks, Go Ahead. It’s a fruit-filled cracker made by McVities in England, and as much as I’ve searched for them, I’ve only ever found them on previously-British islands: the Bahamas and Barbados. Not only did they have them at the grocery store, but they had a NEW FLAVOR. I grabbed six packs of them to bring home. We got a couple other items for the walk, and some ibuprofin for Matt’s ankle, and headed back to the hotel, hauling a big bag of souvenirs and another big bag of wet towels and bathing suits in the oppressive humidity. I don’t think it’s possible to stay hydrated enough there. (Sometimes you have to rely on Scrumpy Jack, too.)

We dropped everything off at the hotel, cleaned ourselves up, and headed right back into Hamilton to the bus station. We were going up to St George, which is known as ‘the oldest continually-inhabited town in the New World’. And also a UNESCO World Heritage site, which makes me nerd out a lot.

The bus ride was supposed to take 50 minutes, but we got there in half an hour. We hopped off in town, and got our wander on.

I was annoyed that I couldn’t get a good picture of the state house (the most-photographed building in Bermuda), because there was a truck parked right in front of it!

We also found Sir George Somers’ heart. Yep.

We walked up the hill to see the Unfinished Church, and managed to get ourselves completely drenched in sweat again. From there, we went back down into town and out to Ordnance Island to see the Deliverance.

There were a bunch of kids jumping from the bridge, and an old guy coming out to yell at them occasionally. Also, a ton of cars would cross the bridge, make a U-turn, and head back into town. Strange.

We had a list of a few restaurants/bars we wanted to see in St George, so we went to the most famous (and nearest) first: the White Horse Pub. It was fairly early, so there were only a few groups eating out on the patio. We got a pitcher of rum swizzles, and Matt got an entree that had wahoo, snapper, and rockfish. I went with one of the few vegetarian options: a cheese pizza (I wasn’t sad about that… I really wanted pizza). The place didn’t seem to have much going on and the service wasn’t great, either (I’m sure it’s probably way better late at night), so we formulated to plan to conduct a St George’s pub crawl that would include Blackbeard’s (at a nearby resort), Tavern on the Sea, and Wahoo Bistro (the only other bar we’d seen there… the other two we had read about).

All the tables at Wahoo Bistro were full, so we grabbed the two seats left at the three-seat bar. The guy next to us introduced himself as Ian, and also introduced the bartender, Geezer, a crusty, awesome old French guy. We ordered drinks and got to talking to Ian about how awesome Bermuda was. He was British, but had been living in St George on work visas for quite a while. He said he worked as a tailor two doors down, and had only stopped in to talk to Geezer about a suit. His bag of groceries was sitting on the floor of the bar.

Ian was awesome. We talked all about where we’d gone in Bermuda, what we should come back to see, the Cup Match, and other places we’d traveled. Then we moved on to American politics, traveling the US, and finally covered the fact that Amy Winehouse had, in fact, died.

While we were talking, Ian had Geezer make us ‘the best rum swizzles in Bermuda’. We realized why that was when Matt noticed that his was no normal bottle of Gosling’s, it was overproof. They were fantastic, too. Oh, and Ian bought us the round.

We told him we were planning to go up to the bar at Blackbeard’s next, and asked how far away it was. He was a few beers in at that point, so his directions (drawn with his finger on the bar) were somewhat confusing. He finally told us he would take us out and point us in the right direction. We thanked Geezer and headed off down the street with Ian. We turned on the same street we’d taken to the Unfinished Church, and he pointed us up that way and repeated the directions. (The main thing we got from it was ‘walk through the golf course, and DON’T TURN LEFT.’) We thanked him, and he wished us well and kissed me on the cheek. I almost died of cute.

We climbed back up the huge hill past the Unfinished Church, and found the road through the golf course. We then went down the hill on the other side, and just like Ian had said, we found Tobacco Bay. It was amazing.

From there we followed the narrow road past some buildings that appeared to be abandoned, and finally saw our destination on top of a hill near the fort. As we approached, we could hear actual awesome hiphop, for the first time on our trip. It sounded like they were having a hell of a party.

We climbed up yet another hill to Blackbeard’s, and walked around the back where the music was blaring. Something seemed kind of off, though, and I noticed the sign just as a British guy approached us to tell us we’d wandered into a private party. WHAT THE HELL.

There was nothing else nearby, so we had no option but to walk the mile or so back to St George. Before heading back, though, we climbed a hill on the golf course and watched the sunset. We also watched a cat as he climbed into a sand trap, scratched around, and pooped. Hilarious.

We climbed back up the hill to St George’s and headed to the Tavern on the Sea. We got a table on the patio, and ordered a couple of Dark and Stormys. After a couple of drinks, it was getting close to time for the last couple of buses to Hamilton, so we walked up to the bus stop. The main drag was crazy all of a sudden… there was a constant stream of cars and scooters going back and forth, loud music, and people parking all over the place to go into the carryout restaurant across the street.

The bus arrived and we were on our way back to Hamilton. There weren’t many people riding, but the crowd was generally louder and more entertaining than previous rides… it was Saturday night. We approached Flatt’s Village (about halfway to Hamilton) and suddenly there was a huge line of traffic ahead of us. We saw police cars, and a bunch of cars in front of us started making u-turns and going back the other way. That wasn’t really an option for the bus, obviously.

Apparently there had been an accident on the road ahead of us, and the whole thing was blocked. Once we got nearer to the site, the police started directing cars off onto a side road to go around. The road appeared to be a beach access driveway, and was mostly sand. The bus couldn’t fit on that, either, so we were stuck waiting.

We sat there for a long time, and finally the driver got out and walked up the road to see what was up. The guys in the back of the bus were trying to convince us that the bus could totally turn around (there was no way). The driver came back and we sat, watching cops walking around and cars passing on the beach road. They were only going the one direction, though, so everyone coming the other direction was probably just sitting around, too. Finally the amusing dudes in the back said they were giving up and going to walk, so they hopped off the bus and headed up the road. Matt said, “we’re going to be seeing them again soon.”

After at least half an hour, the cops came up and started waving the bus forward. We passed a smashed-up van being loaded onto a tow truck, and the line of traffic waiting to go the other direction. There weren’t many cars there, so most of them must have given up and turned around. We got to the first stop in Flatt’s, and there were the guys who had gotten off to walk. They boarded the bus again, laughing.

Shortly after that, we picked up a big group of teenagers. They were really loud and really drunk, and made their way to the back of the bus. The driver said something to a couple of them as they got on, warning them about being rowdy. That didn’t seem to stop them, though. They weren’t really doing anything wrong, just laughing and yelling, but the driver was really annoyed by that. The massive delay plus the kids was making him angry, and he was driving so fast that we couldn’t believe it, tearing around narrow corners and stomping on the brakes. He yelled back at the teenagers to warn them again, but a couple of them just laughed.

They hit the bell for a stop, but then realized they’d pushed it too early and wanted the next one instead. The driver was having none of that, though: he pulled over and told them to get off the bus. And not just the couple of kids who requested the stop, but all of them. It took them a few minutes to all give up and sullenly leave. As we pulled away, we watched them gather on the side of the road, laughing, and suddenly a rock hit the window right by our seats. It scared the hell out of me and made my ear ring for a long time afterwards. Holy crap.

FINALLY, we made it back into Hamilton. We started recognizing buildings, but didn’t have a good sense of where we were in town. The bus stopped at an intersection, and the engine died. The driver couldn’t get it started right away, and everybody started exclaiming about it. He finally got it going again, and tore around the corner to what we realized was the bus station… having to walk from there wouldn’t have been the end of the world. As he hurtled at top speed toward the parking bay, a couple started crossing the street in front of us. The man stopped and backed up, but the lady kept right on going despite the bus honking repeatedly at her. He slammed on his brakes, barely missing her. We pulled in to the station, and everyone on the bus could not get off there fast enough.

Matt and I walked through an alley back toward Front Street, trying to decide what bar to go to. We went with O’Flanagans on Front Street, since we hadn’t been there yet. We went upstairs and grabbed a table as far as possible from the insanely loud DJ. There weren’t many people there except gathered around the bar, so they weren’t absorbing any sound. We sat there for a very long time with no indication of a server coming by, so we decided to go to the Outback Sports Bar instead. We got a table there, and Matt went for drinks. We then realized they were showing the Judah-Kahn match on giant screens all over the bar, and that almost everyone was there to see it. So we sat there and got to watch a pretty awesome fight in Bermuda, which was unlikely.

I was way too sober and about to doze off, so we decided to head back to the hotel afterwards, and get ourselves to bed. I passed out right away, but kept waking up with crazy chills from sunburn.

Friday morning, we got up and drove Gaylord down to Whaler’s Village, since we were unsure of how far away it was. (Turns out it was only 2 resorts away, easy walking distance, but whatever.) We checked out menus at the restaurants there, and chose Cane & Taro for brunch, mainly because it overlooked the beach.

The stores opened while we were eating, so we went to go shop. We bought sunglasses, a water shirt for Mr Sunburnt, and checked out many souvenir shops, including the obligatory stop at ABC Stores. We then went to have a mai tai at Hula Grill, because 1) it was a bar on the beach, and 2) it was after 11am. Barely. Also, the bartender was named Fish.

Post mai tai, we went to the hotel to swim.

The surf was much calmer than in Kauai, though occasionally a whirlpool would develop near shore and toss us onto the beach. It was especially clear, so we could easily see both Moloka’i and Lana’i, as well as the people cliff-diving from Black Rock up the beach.

Once our daily swim was taken care of, we cleaned up and hopped in the car to head to Iao Valley, north of Kahului.

It was raining a tiny bit in the valley, which meant we got to see a rainbow:

We hiked up the trail to the overlook, then down along the river. There were fallen guava all over the trail, and we could hear roosters crowing. Also, there were many people swimming in the river despite the warnings that they could be washed out to sea at any time. I assume the locals are probably aware of the likelihood of that happening, though.

The bottom portion of the trail loops through an area planted with local foods, all irrigated by the river. No matter how many times I see banana trees in the tropics, it’s always fascinating.

We stopped at Kepaniwai Park on the way out of Iao Valley, where they have a series of commemorative gardens representing the various ethnic groups that populated Hawaii.

The giant spiders represented nobody but themselves. Creepy!

We also got to witness Colleen’s dream: feral chickens and cats living together in harmony. Or so it seemed.

From Iao Valley, we headed through Kahului toward Paia, the beginning of the road to Hana. It’s a cute little surf town full of hippies, so we had no problem finding awesome food for dinner at a place called Cafe Mambo. Not to mention Coconut Porter, of course.  Afterward, we went to see the beach at sunset.

We headed back to Lahaina. There was a cruise ship in port, which seemed really bizarre, even though we’ve spent plenty of time in cruise ports. It just seemed strange in Hawaii for some reason.

We stopped at the Mai Tai Lounge for a couple of drinks from the oldest bartender in Hawaii, then wandered down Front Street to do some shopping. Matt got to see the banyan tree, too! It’s the size of an entire city block!

We headed to Cheeseburger for dinner. (It’s like Senor Frogs… we had to go.) We had some pretty decent food there, and some really strong drinks, such as mai tais with a float of 151. There was a one-person cover band playing upstairs, and old people cheering. The restaurant closed down around 10 and they invited us to head upstairs, but we decided to go across the street to Moose McGillycuddy’s instead. We didn’t expect it to be good, but we figured we’d maybe at least get some cheap drinks.

On the way toward the stairs, we heard the band there playing a Sublime cover, so Matt decided it was meant to be. (The band was listed as ‘Arise, featuring the lead singer from Gomega’.) Shortly after we found a table, they played ‘Welcome to Jamrock’. The band was really entertaining, the drinks were indeed cheap, and the crowd was highly tolerable.  Also, the mashup of ‘Single Ladies’ and the Macarena was amazing.

The most amazing part? We managed to stay there til midnight. That hadn’t really happened yet in Hawaii, so we’d at least adapted to one hour of the five-hour time change. I count that as a win.

Sunday was a big day: we slept til 11am! I’m sure that had something to do with the li hing margaritas.

We got food and mai tais at Tiki Grill at our hotel, which smelled delicious. At least til I realized what the smell was: a pig roasting in a hut.

We went to the beach to swim for a while. It was gorgeous outside (as if it’s ever not gorgeous in Maui).

After the beach, we swam in the whale-shaped pool for a while, then changed and headed back up to Maui Brewing Company. I really wanted the hoodie they were selling there, but they only had tiny ones (I ended up buying one after returning home). We got a pint glass instead, then did some souvenir shopping at the strip mall nearby.

We dropped the car back off at our hotel, then walked to the Westin around 3:30. We had reservations on a sunset cruise on Ka’anapali! Also, the Westin has flamingos:

Before boarding, we had to all remove our shoes and lock them in a chest on the beach. If that’s not a surefire sign of awesome, I don’t know what is. We then got instructions about how to board, because the surf made it tricky. Basically, they would wait for the waves to go out a little, then yell at you to run like crazy til you got up the steps, otherwise you might be drenched. I was the first one on the boat, and managed to make it with only a little water damage.

They had free drinks and pupus on the boat, so we partook in mai tais while sitting on a bench at the front of the boat. I wished I hadn’t worn a dress, though, because the wind kept blowing it up so our fellow passengers could potentially see my underpants.

We rode out a ways from the beach, then put the sails up and headed north up Ka’anapali. We passed our hotel, then Black Rock, the hotel with Duke’s where we’d been the previous night, and got close to Kapalua. Then we jibed (see, I remember sailing lessons) and headed toward Lahaina.

There were two large groups of people on the boat besides us, and they seemed to both be there for weddings. The level of drunkenness was pretty spectacular. Our favorite guy was this one, who started pole-dancing by himself:

Matt having a very good day, with Lana’i in the background.

We stopped to float near the Lahaina harbor to watch the sunset over Lana’i. It was gorgeous. We had champagne to celebrate.

After sunset, they took us back to the beach, where we had to get off the boat in significantly less-sober condition after a boat-wide singalong of “Don’t Stop Believin'”. I hopped off the second they said to, hiked my skirt up, and ran for it. I ran nowhere near quickly enough, though, because the wave caught up to me. Confusingly, only the bottom inch of my dress was wet, but my underwear were soaked.

We decided to go back to Hula Grill for dinner, since it was nearby right on the beach. The place was packed full, but they found us a couple of seats at the bar where the chefs were prepping food. Watching them work was amazing, and convinced me that I would be terrible at that job.

We had the tasting menu for $25, which included tomato soup with focaccia, a tiny grilled cheese made with Surfing Goat cheese, and tofu and veggies with curried rice. Matt had macadamia nut mahi mahi. There were mai tais, and also desserts:

After dinner, Matt asked if I wanted to walk back to our resort via the road or the beach, so we took the beach route. And then he asked me to marry him.

I cried for a very long time. Once I mostly recovered, we started walking back. On the way, I saw a shooting star, torches lit along the beach, and all these amazing tiny glowing things washed up on the beach. I kept feeling like I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. We went back to our hotel, where we passed not one but three wedding receptions in progress. We got a table at the tiki bar and watched the band. Even the really cheesy songs made me want to cry.

Once the tiki bar closed up at 10, we decided to walk to Tia Juana’s, one of the other places the bartender at Duke’s had recommended. It was at the end of the road into Ka’anapali, but it was still probably only a half-mile away. When we got there, we noticed a bar in the basement below Tia Juana’s blasting reggaeton, so we went down there instead. (We found out later that Tia Juana’s closes the restaurant around that time of night, and people go downstairs.) Donavan Frankenreiter’s Margarita House was in the midst of happy hour, and we were very happy to be there. They had $3 margaritas and Tecates, and some local girls were blasting Ludacris on the jukebox.

While we sat there watching surfing highlight videos on the TV with the rest of the bar, Matt reminded me that I hadn’t actually said yes yet. (Don’t worry, I fixed it.)

Sunday morning, bright and early (ok, around 9:30), we hopped in a cab and headed to pick up our car at the airport. It was conveniently timed so we could drive ourselves there the following day, of course. They gave us an HHR that we promptly named Beauregard, or Beau for short.

We drove across the Gulf Coast on highway 10, heading for Dauphin Island, Alabama. Matt hadn’t been to either Mississippi or Alabama before, so it was very exciting!

There’s a long bridge connecting Dauphin Island to the mainland, and there are pelicans flying all over the place. While crossing, we found ourselves driving right alongside a pelican more than once. It’s really entertaining.

We stopped at the historic end of the island first, to see Fort Gaines.

Cannonbally!

Then we hopped back in the car and drove down to the other side of the island, which is a long spit of sand dotted with houses on stilts. For the last mile, it’s just a single road with pulloffs for the houses and occasional beach parking. The road dead-ends at the public beach.

The beach seemed crowded with not much parking, so we decided to look for a spot to park amongst the houses. We found a spot where several cars were pulled over on a “side street”, parked on the sand alongside the road. They all looked perfectly fine there, but the second I pulled off the pavement, we knew there was a problem: Beauregard was stuck.

It took a combination of me rocking the car in 1st and reverse (not easy on an automatic) and Matt pushing to get it out. I didn’t think it would happen; the wheels were more than half-buried in sand, and just spinning and digging deeper holes. But he managed to push us out, much to the amazement of an old lady watching nearby, who congratulated him on the feat. Haha!

We drove around til we found an actual spot on the pavement and parked. There was no way we were risking that again. And then, of course, we did the super-classy thing and changed into bathing suits in the car: Matt between the doors, and me in the backseat. It’s not like there was anywhere else to change!

The water ended up being too cold to swim, but we were very content just laying on the beach.

It’s hard to be too down on the Deep South, knowing there are places like Dauphin Island there.

(I should note that as of July 2010, this beach was covered in oil from the BP spill. That’s tragic.)

scary jellyfish!

Once we started to sunburn, we decided it was time to continue on. We stopped at a little store for provisions, and drove back over the bridge to the mainland.

Deep-fried peanuts, much like boiled peanuts, are not very good. But you have to try them anyway!

We took highway 90 back into Mississippi, driving through places like Fountainebleau and Pascagoula, heading toward Biloxi. We had some gamblin’ in mind.

The Hard Rock Biloxi was way nicer than we were expecting. We went in and won some money on Wheel of Fortune, got some cheap drinks, and went to play Pai Gow. I did very well, and the women at the table were pretty entertaining. We then went to have dinner (have I only eaten at the Hard Rock Cafe when I’m in their casinos? I think so!), gambled a bit more, and around sunset it was time to head back to New Orleans.

We managed to find cheap parking at a lot a couple blocks from the hotel, rather than pay the overnight valet rate, so we left Beauregard there and went to drop off our stuff. It was then time to hit up the Quarter again, for our last night. SIGH.

One of the must-do items on my list was to have the real absinthe drip, and it was finally time. We stopped at the Old Absinthe House for that, of course. Here’s a video!

Around 11, we went back to Pat O’Brien’s to split a hurricane and get some souvenir glasses. I like that you can get the tiny shotglass version of the hurricane, because who wants to transport a giant glass? The bartender made us a layered shot that I don’t remember the name of, but it was hella impressive.

On our way in between bars, I noticed a walk-up window at the Funky Pirate advertising Jagermeister Tooters. Well… that happened. Thank god they weren’t actually that strong. We then walked back down to the other end of Bourbon Street, to Jean Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop. The young bartender there didn’t know what an Obituary was, and then proceeded to be disgusted when the other bartender told her what it was. She asked us, “you actually like that??” Haha!

We knew it was about time to head back to the hotel if we had any hopes of getting to the airport the next day, so we began the long walk back. We decided to stop into a bar called Johnny White’s for one more drink just so we could use the bathroom, and I ended up in a conversation with a couple of girls there while I was waiting in line. One asked me where I was from, and the other yelled (through the bathroom door), “YOU DON’T SOUND MINNESOTAN!!”

I told them to go talk to Matt and see if he had the same accent I do. We ended up hanging out with them for a long time, talking about Jazzfest and the Vikings-Saints game. There was a guy hovering about named Beau, who nobody knew, but who really wanted to be our pal. He kept telling people he would do the worm if someone bought him a shot. We refused, so he finally bought the shot himself, then did, in fact, do the worm. It was fantastic.

Our friends took off, sure they had convinced us to come down for the football game in the fall, and we said goodbye to Beau and headed back. With a stop at Crystal, of course. It was necessary!

The alarm went off at 8, but we didn’t make it out of bed til 9. I was feeling pretty terrible. At least some delicious gruel helped, and the novovirus scare had finally cleared, so we could serve ourselves.

While Matt showered, I went to the infirmary to tell them about my symptoms. Guess what? Seasickness. They pointed out the basket of Dramamine sitting in the office, and told me to stop by anytime and grab some. I instantly felt better, just knowing I wasn’t going to die.

We got off the ship in St George’s, Grenada. It was raining a little, but quickly clearing. To get into town, you have to go through their giant cruise terminal. It was really nice, though, and crowded with people trying to hop on the wifi network.

We left the terminal, found a Scotiabank ATM, and set off up the hill toward Fort St George, because I’d read that the view was amazing. There’s still plenty of evidence of the effects of Hurricane Ivan, too, which was disastrous in Grenada.

We reached the top of the hill and bought our $2 tickets for the fort. The sun was already coming out, and the view thing is no joke:

We wandered around the fort, which was an awesome mix of picturesque and run-down. The police use it as a training facility.

One of the Brits there told us that the markings on the cannons were King George’s seal.

We left the fort, and headed back down the hill to the Carenage. It’s on the other side of the giant hill from the cruise port. St George’s is a busy, very pretty town.

The Carenage was full of fish boats and the infamous Rhum Runner, and it was packed with tourists, as expected.

We picked up a couple spice necklaces to bring home. I love them.

We then stopped at a little grocery store in search of local beverages, snacks, and spices (Grenada being the spice island, of course). We also wanted local change, as it makes an awesome souvenir. Our bag of mauby, pop, and snacks cost about $15US, and the cashier was amused that we wanted Grenadan change. He also reassured us that it was safe to drink outside in Grenada. You never know!

We headed back toward the ship to drop our purchases off and change into bathing suits, stopping at a little craft/souvenir store along the way. We picked up a bunch of things and continued to the spice market, which was amazing. We just stopped at the first booth, but it was perfect… we ended up with bags of spices, and when we overpaid the seller by just a little bit, he handed us another handful of nutmegs as change. I loved it.

We also stopped to visit Yvonne in the cruise terminal, because we’d promised to (she also sold spices), and then spent quite a bit of time in the souvenir shop in the terminal itself. Grenada is good at selling us stuff, and all of it was awesome.

We changed into our beach gear on the ship, and walked back out to the water taxi. It cost $16 roundtrip for two people going to Grand Anse beach.

Grand Anse is regularly called the most perfect beach in the Caribbean, and it’d be hard to disagree with that.

We got a couple of beach chairs with an umbrella at Lazy Days, and the server brought us rum punch. This time, Matt finished his before going in the ocean!

We swam for over an hour. There was a deep dropoff, so you didn’t touch the bottom within 30 or so feet of the beach. That made for some awesome surf, too.

We dried off, sat around on the beach for a bit longer, and then went to find food. I headed straight for the roti stand:

I had a vegetable and salad (!) roti, and Matt had chicken and chips. We sat around giggling at the rooster strutting around the yard. After lunch, we stopped at a little shop on the beach so Matt could pick up a Carib beer shirt, and then we hopped on the water taxi back to the cruise port. On the way, we eavesdropped on one of our fellow passengers hitting on a dancer from the Queen Mary 2. I also noticed the pile of Carib bottles underneath the pilot’s steering wheel.

Back on the ship, we noticed that the Ocean Village boat next to ours was preparing to leave. The passengers were assembling on the top deck, and they were all holding little British flags. I was a little disappointed that we didn’t get flags (preferable Puerto Rican ones). They started blasting music, and we witnessed the Brits singing and dancing along to songs like ‘YMCA’ and ‘We Will Rock You’. We decided to go up to the top deck to watch, because it was hilarious.

We got a couple of the daily specials – the $5 rum runner – and stood at the railing watching the Ocean Village ship. They had two staff people shouting in megaphones to get the crowd going (both of them wearing British flags), and they tried to organize a yelling contest between the two ships. Lacking a large crowd and our own organizers, we lost by a lot. The Brits seemed to think it was as amusing to make fun of the Americans as we did them. It was awesome. Our ship headed out first, so we waved goodbye to them and headed out to sea.

We returned to the cabin to shower and hang out for a while, then went to the martini bar to try the martini flight, more for novelty purposes than actual quality. It was cute! After that, we got a couple of real martinis and headed to the main restaurant for the first time since we’d been on the ship.

We found our table of eight, and realized there was only one open seat. The very loud group there had obviously made a friend, so we went to ask the maitre-d’ about it. They sat us at another four-person table nearby, telling us another couple had the other seats. But they didn’t show up, so: score.

The main restaurant service was sub-par, to our surprise. It was extremely slow, and I didn’t get the fruit cup I’d ordered. I did get a giant caprese salad and Israeli couscous that was very good, though. Matt asked our waiter, Vasilika, for help choosing between two entrees, so Vasilika just brought both of them. We had panna cotta for dessert, and also got espresso. While the food was good, the time it took for dinner wasn’t really worth it. Especially since, if we wanted fancy food, we could get it via room service for free. The buffet was usually just fine for us, though!

After dinner, we wandered down to Michael’s Club, the fancy cigar and cognac bar. Matt just wanted to pick up matches for his cigar, which we then took up to the pool bar on the 11th deck. They were having an “island party” up there, with a really entertaining band and people dancing. We got cuba libres from the hot Irish bartender, and learned about the wonders of Bacardi 8. And since I’m all class, I took my Dramamine with rum.

We witnessed the ship’s longest conga line (or so they said) from above; why are old people doing the conga so hilarious? We also met a couple from Philly drinking out of coconuts, which obviously we had to partake in. But since I was smart, I also made sure we got a gigantic bottle of water to carry around. Ha!

We headed down to the pool deck to dance. By then, they’d played ‘Hot Hot Hot’ at least three times. Once the island band switched to DJ Ron Hollywood, I told Matt we’d hear the Cupid Shuffle within two songs. And we did, so of course we danced to it. Afterwards, I got my own drink in a coconut. I had to.

Then it was time for bed! We had more islands to visit, after all.

You know what time you have to get up for a 7:30 flight? 4:30am. It hurts.

It was 7 degrees when we departed Minneapolis. Matt parked at the train station (Wendy was retrieving his car later; we weren’t cruel enough to make anyone drive us to the airport at that time of morning), and we left our coats in the trunk. I was wearing convertible pants and a thin hoodie, but I discovered that gloves help a lot. Also, the heat lamps at the train station.

There was a pretty substantial line at check-in, so I was glad to be there early. We got through security, and headed to  the gate. My sister showed up, and hung out with us til it was time to go. She had a flight to Florida that was leaving a little later. We left on time, got to have the plane de-iced (it’s always exciting!) and were on our way to Jamaica.

We got in right on time, around 12:30pm. Customs took 20 minutes or so, and then we headed to go find our shuttle bus. There was supposed to be someone there waiting with a sign, but we managed to find the appropriate counter instead, and were instructed to go stand by a pole. After a while, a porter retrieved us from the pole, and led us to our bus.

They loaded our bags, and we asked if we had time to go to the bar. (It was a 1.5-hour ride, and we’d been told to make sure to get a couple Red Stripes before boarding.) The driver told us, ‘yah, mon!’ and led us over to the bar. You know what’s awesome? An airport with an outdoor bar!

We got our beers, fended off a lady who wanted to sell us a coupon book for $7, and headed back to the bus. We were intercepted by the driver of the bus parked adjacent to ours, who asked if we smoked. He proceeded to give us instruction on how to buy weed in Jamaica. At the stop we’d make on the way to Negril, there would be a man, and all we had to do was talk to him. It was kind of hilarious.

We boarded the bus, and headed off once it eventually filled up. There was a big group of people in their 50s in the back, who were clearly regulars there. They had coolers full of beer and liquor, and were already rowdy. It was awesome.

The bus headed off down the coast towards Negril. We went through the main part of Montego Bay, which reminded me of every cruise port everywhere, but then soon found ourselves in the country, interspersed with very small, ramshackle towns. There were goats everywhere, too!

As promised, we stopped about halfway through the drive, at a shop on the side of the road. One of the old guys on the bus kept asking the driver where the baño was, until his friends explained that people speak English in Jamaica. Ack. We all piled out and headed toward the bathroom, then the snack bar. I emerged from the bathroom to find Matt telling the guy with the weed that we weren’t interested. We bought a couple more bottles of Red Stripe.

real local Red Stripe on the left, imported stuff from the airport on the right.

roadside shop with creepy usain bolt picture

We arrived in Negril around 3pm, realizing that they’d timed the bus ride so we’d get there at check-in time. We stopped at a few resorts up the road from ours (most of the old party people were staying at all-inclusives at the north end of Seven Mile Beach), then arrived at our hotel, Rooms Negril.

There were some severely crabby people from our bus checking in. Matt and I couldn’t understand what the hell you could be mad about when you were in Jamaica. I’m pretty sure that’s impossible.

We unpacked our bags and were walking on the beach by 3:30. We needed lunch, so we headed to a nearby spot whose name I recognized: Roots Bamboo. We got a table, took off our flipflops, and waited for a server. There were only a few other tables occupied, and nobody was in much of a hurry to do anything. Which was totally fine with us, because this was our view:

Finally, someone asked us what we wanted to drink. Of course I had to have a rum punch. She brought it back a few minutes later, asking me to try it and see if it was good. It was, but she asked if I wanted more rum. How could I refuse?

first rum punch! nowhere near the last.

I was a little nervous about rum punch, since it’s made with juice, and I have blood sugar issues. However, there’s way more of the other stuff (mostly rum), so it was fine. They didn’t even make me sleepy. Holy crap, they’re delicious. And cheap at $150J (a little less than $2 US).

Much later, the server came back and asked if we wanted food. We ordered that and another round of beverages, and then sat there discussing our plans. We had absolutely nothing scheduled until Kris and Orsi arrived, which meant we had a date in 6 days. That’s kind of the perfect vacation.

As we sat there, a guy holding a small takeout box approached, and asked if we wanted to buy mushrooms. We didn’t, but that didn’t stop him from piling a handful on the table in front of Matt. He told us it was only $10 per person. We told him we preferred to just drink, but that just sent him into a long explanation about how drinks will get you drunk, but shrooms will keep you awake all night. He attempted to demonstrate by eating a tiny one himself. He became pushier every time we said no, and finally accused us of being mean.

During our entire trip, he was the only hustler on the beach who was like that. Everybody else was pretty awesome. I suspect he’d indulged in way too many mushrooms.

We headed back to our hotel after lunch, with drinks in hand, and watched the sunset from the beach.

We didn’t really have an idea of where we wanted to go hang out for the evening, so we decided to get our wander on, and take the street instead of the beach. As we headed out the gate of our hotel, the security guard asked where we were going (they liked to keep tabs on the guests). We told him we had no clue, but it was definitely that way, to the north.

Walking along the street, the traffic freaks you out a lot, because they drive on the left. Crossing is confusing. Also, there are guys lined up selling things: jerk, beer, weed, taxis, ‘anything you want’. A lot of them will want you to stop and talk to them, but most of them will take a ‘no thanks’. Regardless, they were all pretty entertaining to talk to.

We ended up at Margaritaville for a few reasons: 1) it’s funny, 2) we’d been to the original one in Key West, so it was now like a vacation tradition, 3) they had yards, and 4) we didn’t have local currency yet, and knew they took credit cards.

It was surprisingly empty! We learned later why that was, but we didn’t know the system yet. We ordered margaritas, then headed to a couple of beach chairs. We watched a group of drunk girls running around in the surf, and I spent a lot of time staring at the stars. After a while, we returned to the bar, and the bartender told us she thought we’d left without Matt’s credit card, because that happens all the time. I can imagine!

We sat there for a long time, and finally ordered some nachos. I’m not sure if they were actually that great or not, but I know I was very excited about the delicious jalapenos. We watched a show on the crappy TV over the bar called ‘Dancing Dynamos’. It was clearly local, possibly from Kingston. It involved a lot of people doing late-90s-style hiphop dancing, and it was amazing, particularly with the sound off.

Once they began shutting down the beach bar (it wasn’t that late, maybe 10pm or so?), we decided to head back down the beach with our drinks. Along the way, we met a guy selling bracelets. Matt said no to him, but I actually liked the bead bracelet a lot, so we bought it. He taught us a new handshake, which I will probably have to demonstrate to you sometime, involving respect, love, peace, and irie.

We could hear thumping bass coming from somewhere near the other end of the beach, so we just kept heading that direction. We hadn’t quite gotten the very slow beach amble down yet, so we were tired from walking quickly. A bunch of hustlers approached us, and we asked them all where the music was coming from. They just kept pointing down toward the south end of the beach, so we kept going. By the time we got to our hotel, we were worn out and gave up; instead, we decided to stop at 23/7, the bar just to the south of our hotel. That moment probably changed our lives forever. At least, that’s what I’d like to believe.

The bar was just a giant tiki hut on the beach, with very high benches around it. You had to use a stepstool to climb up to them. There was a creepy, quiet couple on the next bench over who kept eyeing us, but didn’t seem to want to talk. We ordered rum punch, and watched the NBA game on the TV up in the corner. Then we decided we probably needed a shot of overproof rum, since that’s what the locals drank (we hadn’t realized yet that pretty much everyone was already mixing their rum punch with overproof). I expected something on the order of 151, but it was nowhere near that bad. We eventually got our tab, for a grand total of $13. Awesome.

We went back to our hotel, and it was still only about 11pm. However, we’d gotten up at 4:30 that morning, and we were about ready to crash.

We woke at 10am to housekeeping knocking on the door. I’m pretty sure they learned after that, because they didn’t bother coming back before noon for the rest of our stay.

We decided to have breakfast at our hotel, overlooking the beach. The weather was unbelievably perfect: clear skies and calm ocean.

the pool at our hotel. nice, but who needs it when you have the ocean?

Having obtained rum punches on the way out, we went to change into bathing suits and headed to the beach to swim. We spent the next three or so hours bobbing around in the ocean, attempting to bodysurf on the occasional wave, and climbing on each other in inappropriate ways. We then took up beach chairs and read, until it became clear that no matter how many times we reapplied sunscreen, we were going to keep burning if we sat in the sun. We gave it one last shot and went back to swim in the ocean for a while longer.

After showering, we decided to walk towards town, in the direction of the one cash machine we knew dispensed Jamaican dollars.

It was maybe a mile or so from our hotel along the road (there’s only one road). Cabs honked constantly as they passed, which was mostly disconcerting just because they drive on the wrong side of the street. All along the way, there are jerk and other vendors, restaurants with beckoning cooks, and guys standing around offering to sell you whatever you want. The main offering is weed, but they made sure we know that they could get us anything we wanted. We politely declined.

The downtown area is just a few blocks radiating from a central roundabout. Past that area, the road heads up into the cliffs, where the other main resort area is. There’s a Burger King and a couple other Americanized places there, but nowhere near what can be found in Montego Bay (I think they even have a Wal-Mart. Yuck).

We spotted the ScotiaBank with the ATM, but decided to wander and look for the Hi-Lo supermarket first. As we rounded the curve, a dude introduced himself as Junior and started walking with us. I asked him where the Hi-Lo was, and he told us he’d take us there. He was, after all, a guy who shows people how to get around. I had flashbacks to Johnny in the Dominican Republic. So we started following him, and I made sure I had a few bucks in my pocket to give him when we got there.

He led us a few blocks further, which involved balancing on the sea wall, stopping traffic to cross, and staring at the ground to be sure we didn’t stumble on rocks or broken concrete. There were cars rushing past, and it was far more hectic than our area on the beach. He walked us through a shopping center with several souvenir shops, and stopped in front of one to point it out: that was his friend’s shop – wouldn’t we like to go in? We told him we’d prefer to stop there after the Hi-Lo, and continued to follow him.

For the moment, I was glad Junior had attached himself to us, because we’d have never found the store without a guide. He brought us inside and grabbed a basket, and at that moment it became clear that he intended to shop with us. I took the basket from him, thanked him for his help, and told him we’d be fine. I shoved $3 in his hand and walked away.

Junior was a little distraught by that. He followed us, telling me that that was a very small amount of money in Jamaica. We knew that he’d be able to buy a couple of Red Stripes with it; it’s not like he was giving us a cab ride or anything. I apologized and kept walking; he protested to Matt for a while, and finally gave up. We were very glad to be free of Junior, and did our shopping in peace.

We still didn’t have any Jamaican cash, figuring we’d be able to get it at the Hi-Lo. After circling the store and not finding an ATM, I handed Matt the basket and told him I’d go check around outside. I didn’t find one there, either, but I did find Junior hitting Matt up again when I returned. The best part is that he didn’t remember him til I showed up; he then looked perturbed and left. Oh, Junior.

We bought our collection of Jamaican beverages (and deodorant, since that was the item I chose to forget to pack) with American money, and got change in J$. That’s pretty much how it works there: you can pay pretty much anywhere with either form of currency, but you’ll get change in Jamaican. You’ll definitely be on the short end of the exchange rate, but it’s at least convenient.

By that point, we were starving, so we followed a sign for Sunshine Pizza and headed upstairs in the mall. We found a little shop there with tables outside, placed an order for a couple of pieces of pizza and two Red Stripes, and hung out, overlooking the ocean. Perfect.

After lunch, we stopped into Junior’s friend’s shop and picked up some souvenirs, which included a few small bottles of liquor. One of them was Rum Bar Rum, which the owner told us was the strongest overproof one could find. WIN. We shoved our purchases into my string bag and threaded our way back through the deathtrap that is downtown Negril. We stopped at the ATM (which apparently has extremely long lines some days; we only waited for a few minutes), got Jamaican dollars, and were way too excited that the receipt said I had $40,000 in my account. Jamaican, of course.

We headed back toward the beach, encountering many of the same hustlers along the way. Our new favorite was Kanye, thus named because of his sunglasses. We ran into him several times over the course of the week, and were never sure exactly what he did. He appeared to be a pot-dealing cab driver. Which is par for the course in Negril, of course.

We decided to stop at Yellow Bird, because it was on my list as having happy hour before sunset. It was a few hotels down the beach from ours, near Bourbon Beach.

There’s a sign hanging in every bar in Negril that reads:

It is my intention to apply for a spirit licence to sell rum, gin, brandy and other distill spirit at the next court session in Sav. (Signed by the owner.)

Sav refers to Savannah-La-Mar. I’m pretty sure these court sessions only happen once every 20 years, because there was only one place, Rick’s, that had actually obtained this license.

Also, there were Nebraska Cornhuskers flags strung all the way around the bar. No clue.

I asked the bartender if they had happy hour, and she seemed confused by my question. I rephrased; she said yes, and brought us each a rum punch. When we ordered a second round a bit later, we got two-for-ones. Again, no clue. Regardless: rum punch, bar on the beach, thatched roof, sunset over the ocean, watching the world go by. It doesn’t get much more awesome than that.

There was an American lady lounging nearby on one of the resort’s beach chairs, being attended-to by one (and sometimes two) of the locals. Matt named her Karen from HR. She was the first in a long series of women we saw in Jamaica who were seemingly there alone, and often seen picking up locals and smoking weed. They seem to all be in their 40s, and probably the opposite of players at home. That’s pretty entertaining. I’m sure their coworkers would die of shock if they knew.

sunset from yellow bird

We watched the sunset from the beach. As we were sitting there, the shrooms guy who had hassled us the previous afternoon rushed onto the property, trailing a group of Canadians in their 20s. He was haranguing one of them for payment, but the guy apparently had no cash. He ended up getting his handful of mushrooms for free, because one of the guys at the bar came out and booted the seller after yelling at him about being on the property. The whole time we were there, that was the only seriously unpleasant hustler we ran into. And he seemingly had a reputation as such.

We headed back up the beach. After some hotel-room-based entertainment, we went off in search of dinner. It was around 7pm or so.

We decided to go back to 23/7 again, as it was already our favorite bar. This time there was a woman serving, and we instantly loved her. She commented on my tattoo, because she knew Joyce (she’d even read Finnegan’s Wake). She also recommended the steamed fish to Matt, because she’d decided she wanted to marry it. (“If you could cook fish like that, you wouldn’t need a wife!”) I ordered the callaloo sandwich, which was basically the greatest fried egg sandwich ever invented, with cheese, tomato, and callaloo on top. (It would, in fact, change my life forever: I’ve ordered seeds to grow our own amaranth plant, the basis for callaloo.) I ordered a rum punch, and she poured an extra shot of overproof on top. Matt had a shot of overproof, and a Red Stripe.

A roaming band wandered up onto the beach and started playing reggae. They passed around the magic hat for donations, and we all put in. We told the bartender we were going to head down to Bourbon Beach for the show that night, because Gregory Isaacs was supposed to be playing. (All we knew of Gregory Isaacs was his name, because Mos Def mentions him in Ms Fat Booty. But still! We knew his name!) She looked very wary, as if she didn’t believe the show was actually happening.

Regardless, we headed down that way after a while. We found a giant blue barrier around the complex (it’s one of the larger bars), and a ticket-taker at the gate. It cost $1000J, a little more than $10 US. We got wristbands, then had to buy drink tickets for some reason; it was the only place we saw that week that did it that way. It was still fairly empty, so we grabbed seats at the bar and started working our way through the tickets. I tried to convince Matt to have a shot of Teachers (the ‘scotch’ made by Appleton) neat, with a water back. He was having none of it.

The music started around 10pm. We heard the Indika Band, and enjoyed them quite a bit. In between sets, the trumpet player took a seat near Matt, and they started talking. Matt ended up buying a CD from him, because the band was awesome. By 12:30, there was absolutely no sign of Gregory Isaacs, nor had there been any mention of him. We were exhausted from the previous long day, and decided to head out. It’s entirely possibly that our bartender was right, and he may not have been there at all. That’s not uncommon in Jamaica, apparently!

On the way out, one of the hustlers on the beach asked if he could have our wristbands. We said sure and started to pull them off, but he abruptly stopped us and did it himself, to minimize the damage to them. Jamaica rules.

Tuesday, we got up and donned our bathing suits right away. Walking to the beach, though, we noticed that the ocean looked extremely rough. There was nobody swimming at the time, so we decided not to risk it. We took up beach chairs (in the shade this time, because we were both already really sunburnt) and read. We also spent a fair amount of time wondering if coconuts would fall on our heads.

Behind us was a group of three fancier hotel rooms, with decks leading out onto the beach. These and several others were occupied by a group we knew as the North Dakotans. They were older than us, with a median age of around 45 (the age group most likely to appreciate being in a place where they freely have access to weed). They seemed to have a yearly date with Negril, and they were taking advantage to the fullest. The patios were stacked with pallets of Red Stripe; not just 24-packs, but the actual plastic crates that are delivered to businesses. They also had a full bar setup, which we were very aware of due to their incredible drunkenness by 10am (which lasted all day), and the fact that they were yelling drink orders from across the beach at each other. It was impressive. Those guys know how to party like we do back home.

After a while, we wandered over to 23/7 for lunch. I had the same exact sandwich I had the night before; it’s that good. Matt had jerk chicken with rice and peas. The bartender inquired about the show, and we told her what had happened. She was not in the least bit surprised.

i want every bar’s floor to look like this.

the view from 23/7

the greatest sandwich in the known universe. i’m not kidding.

jerk chicken

After sitting around at lunch for a long time, we headed off down the beach toward Time Square. It’s actually on the road, but walking on the beach is more pleasant, even if it means you have to stop to chat with 50% more hustlers. They’re friendly, so it’s fine. Also, we wanted to see what Bourbon Beach looked like in the daytime, without the giant blue barriers.

bourbon beach, still sans gregory isaacs

We cut through a seemingly empty bar/hotel complex (which was apparently occupied, but like much of Negril, you never really know for sure) and walked out to the road to cross to Time Square. It has a giant Rolex on top, and it’s the place where you can have all your duty-free needs satisfied, particularly those related to expensive jewelry and perfume. We just wanted the ATM.

The Cool Cash machine was out of order, however. This was also not surprising, and not all that critical. We did a little shopping, and asked one of the guys in the store if he knew where another cash machine was. He said there was one at Risky Business, a hotel/bar nearby on the beach.  We walked over there, and realized it was either closed or under construction or just in really rough shape; regardless, there was actually a guy standing behind the mostly-empty bar, so we asked him about the ATM. He looked confused. Nope, there’s no ATM at Risky Business.

As far as we were able to determine by the end of our stay, there was one in town dispensing Jamaican dollars, one at Time Square that works half the time and dispenses US dollars, one somewhere up at the north end in a fancy resort, and a few cambios that are hard to find. Just so you know: it’d be easier to get a ton of cash in Montego Bay before you leave for Negril.

The ocean seemed just as rough, but there were plenty of people swimming, so we decided to risk it. We went to the room and changed, to find this:

However, there were no bath towels. In fact, for most of our stay there, we never had 2 bath towels. We’d have one if we were lucky, and sometimes none. Even when I called housekeeping, they still never showed up. It wasn’t really that big a deal, though. The place was pretty great regardless.

We fought our way into the ocean, which was a challenge against the waves. Once you got past where they were breaking near the beach, though, it wasn’t terrible. We watched a couple guys bodysurfing for real, and gave that a try. It was awesome, but you end up with a lot of water in your mouth if you’re not careful. It reminded me of the few times I’ve swallowed water while snorkeling and almost puked in the ocean.

Having worn ourselves out bodysurfing, we went to sit on the beach near the lifeguard stand. We alternated reading and sitting there staring at the ocean or giggling about something undeniably awesome. And that’s when I started to realize was was so completely great about our trip to Jamaica: we were doing hardly anything, at least in the traditional sense. If we could spend three hours a day in the ocean, and several more just sitting around at fantastic bars, restaurants, or on the beach, watching the tourists and the sunset and the ocean, it just might be the greatest trip ever. That’s such a complete novelty to me, and it was amazing.

We slowed our roll like professionals. I even started telling Matt to walk slower on the beach, because it was easier to walk in the sand at an amble.

As the sun started to hint at setting, we went to shower and change. Matt had the most creative belly button sunburn I’d ever seen. I had sand all over everything I owned. We still didn’t have bath towels, so I used a hand towel and he used one he’d brought for the beach. I smelled funny from Jamaican deodorant, and probably overproof rum. My hair was always perfect with no effort. I think that’s why I need to live near the ocean.

We went out and sat on the wall facing the ocean to watch the sunset. With Red Stripes, of course. It’s a massive faux pas to be caught without a drink in Jamaica. Also, how great is it that watching the sun set over the ocean is an important daily event in Negril? It’s never disappointing. Somehow it was even more gorgeous than in Mexico.

We decided to go back to Margaritaville, because we were low on cash, and knew they took credit cards. On the beach, one of the many hustlers we’d begun to recognize shoved the blue stick under our noses: it was weed, but the stem was actually a very dark blue. I’m pretty sure he didn’t appreciate our vast interest in it, without making a purchase. We’d just never seen anything like it before.

The booze cruise was just dumping its load of stumbling North Dakotans as we arrived, and Margaritaville was packed. Instead of a table on the beach, they put us at one of the very few they had open, near the entrance. Apparently the shuttles full of resort-goers only come to places like that a few nights a week, and that was one of them. I was distraught over the number of kids who were very obviously under 18 at the bar, drinking from yard glasses, til I realized they were special kid-yards given to the resort folks, hopefully full of pop. Also, there were some alarmingly slutty 14-year-old girls there, hanging out with local boys. Holy crap.

The DJ that had been playing crappy dance music was replaced by a Jimmy Buffett cover band. And by ‘band’, I mean ‘one-man band named Orv’. We ordered yards, which they call bongs, a highly appropriate name for Jamaica. Matt exclaimed, “I’m drinking out of a giant pink dildo with an umbrella!” Orv launched into ‘All Summer Long’, and we died a little. Of awesome, I mean.

By time time we got our food, the restaurant had started to empty; apparently the resort people don’t stay out past 8pm. They all packed into already overfull buses and headed back to Sandals or Hedonism II or wherever they were going. (That ‘dinner at 6pm, back to the hotel at 8pm’ thing was completely foreign to our vacation sensibilities. I don’t really get it.) The food was surprisingly good, at least for drunk people. I know I had some kind of pizza that I ate with Gray’s Spicy Sauce.

We got our tab so we could move outside, then grabbed our yards, and tracked down Jimmy Buffet’s love seat on the beach. Then we got to some engineering projects with all our available materials, i.e. sand. I built an ottoman, and Matt built a yard-holder so he wouldn’t have to pick up his glass to drink.

We danced in the sand to a song I’m pretty sure neither of us remember, though I suspect it was ‘No Woman, No Cry’. Before we’d left for Jamaica, we’d place bets on how often we would hear that song while we were there. I picked 7, and Matt took the over. I’ve always liked it a lot, but it was kind of a joke. Until it wasn’t toward the end of the trip, and I started crying ever time I heard it. I still do. It kills me.

We went to the bar for reggae shots. We didn’t see what exactly was in them, but the green layer is minty (creme de menthe?) and the white layer is white rum, also known as overproof. They were delicious, and we got to keep the shotglasses. Of course.

At the bar, we met a couple on the verge of falling off their seats while watching Orv. We got talking to them about god-knows-what. The male half was extremely loud, wearing a Margaritaville wifebeater, and we ended up dancing with him to ‘Me and Bobby McGee’. I also requested ‘The Boys of Summer’ from Orv, with ‘Hotel California’ as an alternative (just to drive Matt crazy, because he hates the fucking Eagles, man), but he didn’t know them. Instead, played ‘Peaceful Easy Feelin’. Not the same at all, and yet.

I’m not sure what time we left, but we managed to close down the bar again. We were just starting to figure out the pattern in Negril, and why the hell most of the bars would be completely dead by 9pm. Granted, if you were sitting there at the bar, they’d serve you all night. But you’d be there by yourselves, and that’s nowhere near as interesting.  Basically, there’s a reggae show happening somewhere every night (two places, actually: there’s one on 7 Mile Beach, and one up on the cliffs), and that’s where everyone goes around 10pm. The bars just shut down once they empty out. Strange, but kind of awesome. All you have to do is listen for the music and head that way.

So we did. Tuesday equals Alfred’s, which is a couple properties down from our hotel. Once we got near there, though, we decided to pass, because they had cover and we could hear the music from where we were: right by 23/7. Go figure! We climbed up on our bench, and even got to see one of the two guys there who knew the secret rum punch recipe and assembled it in the middle of the night. Matt got into an intense conversation with him about the week-long cricket match that was going on the whole time we were there. They seemed to be way more interested in that than futbol.

I have no idea what time we left there, but it must’ve been late. On the 250-foot walk back to our hotel, one of us fell down in the ocean. I’m not saying who, but you can probably guess.

We woke up very late on Wednesday, as expected. Then we spent three hours in the ocean, bobbing around and practicing our bodysurfing. At times, we actually got it right!

Once we decided it was time for lunch around 3 or so, we went down the beach to the patty place whose sign we could see from the ocean. They were out of veggie patties, though, so we decided to go elsewhere. We were intercepted by one of the hustlers on the beach, who convinced us to go over to ‘his’ bar, which was right next door. It’s called Arthur’s, and it bills itself as the oldest bar in Negril. I have no idea how to verify that, though.

There were a few extremely interesting locals sitting at the bar, and a guy from Sweden who had his own bottle of overproof rum sitting next to him (I love that that’s allowable at bars there). Everyone was listening very intently to the cricket match on the radio. We got rum punches and a Red Stripe from the awesome old bartender, and the vendors at the stalls next door came up to us a few times to ask us to visit them after we were done. I’d been asked a million times if I wanted my hair braided, though, and I still hadn’t been convinced. The same went for the aloe massage.

It was getting towards 4pm or so and we still hadn’t eaten. That didn’t really cross my mind, though, because I was fully in the state that seems to overtake me every time I spend a few days in the tropics: something about the combination of heat/humidity/different food/hangover/sunburn/dehydration makes me absolutely uninterested in food. Which sucks when you want to try everything there, but at least it means you can wait forever for a meal!

We walked over to Time Square to check on the status of the ATM. This time, it was actually working! We got out our American dollars, and decided what a couple of people in need of food and entertainment should do: we decided to get a cab up to Rick’s Cafe, the biggest tourist spot in Negril. It’s on the cliffs, and we knew we’d have to stop by and see it at some point.

Richard, our driver, had the most pimp cab ever. He drove us through town and up to the cliffs, dropping us right at the entrance to Rick’s, along with half the universe. That was to be expected, though: watching the sunset from Rick’s is one of the biggest traditions in Jamaica.

We wandered over to see the cliff divers first. There were a couple guys who jumped for tips, but tourists can also pay to jump off the low platform. It was highly entertaining. All the booze cruises pull up to watch, too.

I think my favorite thing was the tables in the pool. Is that the greatest idea anyone’s ever had, or what?

We wandered over to the bar, and managed to find seats on the far side. We must’ve arrived at the right time, because it filled up completely shortly after we arrived. We had quick access to the bartender and dinner (I had veggie pasta, the Jamaican default for vegetarian/rasta), and a good view of the ocean for sunset. Perfect!

our view from the bar

the negril lighthouse, seen through one of the cliff-diving platforms at rick’s

this guy’s name is spiderman!

booze cruises: wild thing was the one that dropped off at margaritaville.

The overhead system played such selections as Sexyback, the Roots (which always excites me a lot), and Morris Day and the Time (612 represent!). A reggae band started playing a bit later. Close to sunset, everybody wandered over to the west side of the patio to watch.

going…

going…

better than mexico, even.

Shortly after sunset, the place began to empty quickly. I suppose all the resort people hopped back on their buses. It was still kind of mindblowing, though: good band and a bar overlooking the ocean in Jamaica… why would you want to leave that quickly?

In addition to the standards, the band played The Gambler. As a reggae song, of course. We almost died of awesome. We took our drinks and went to sit down by the band, because we discovered COUCHES.

couches!

Once the band wrapped up, we moved to a round booth facing the ocean, and ordered a couple of appetizers. I went to the bathroom, and on the way back, one of the security guards stopped me to talk. He asked who I was there with, and I told him ‘my boyfriend.’ He said, ‘Oh, well then I won’t be rude.’ Hahaha.

After a while, we realized that apart from the staff, we were the only people there. It was probably 9:30 or 10pm at the latest. We decided to go get another cab back down to the beach, and stop at the show. Wednesday meant Roots Bamboo.

Our driver told us all about hurricanes in Jamaica, which was pretty fascinating. He dropped us right at Roots, and we went in, paid our $10, and got hand stamps. As with the other show, the place was encircled by the giant blue barrier, which made it look completely different. We got a seat at the bar, and watched the show. A little ways into it, we realized that the guy playing the trumpet was the same one who’d been playing for the Indika Band at Bourbon Beach, the one who sold Matt the CD.

I got up to go to the bathroom, and was directed out back to where the little cottages are, behind the bar/restaurant. There were 5 doors, and all of them seemed to be occupied. There was no indication about male/female, but that was rare at the beach bars anyway. Finally, an old guy emerged from the last stall. I headed that direction, and he stopped me, saying that it was only a urinal. I asked if that was why some of the doors were red and some blue, if that was a girls-boys thing. He said no, and just then, another blue door opened. A policeman walked out as I headed toward that door. Suddenly, the policeman removed his hat and hairnet, saying, “I am a woman!” She wasn’t mad, just amused at my bathroom confusion. I sat in the bathroom, laughing.

It was Matt’s turn to brave the restrooms when I got back. Approximately 2 seconds after he walked away, the guy standing near me against a pole sidled up and started talking. He asked if I was there with anyone, and I said yes. I mean, there’s no way he could’ve have noticed Matt getting up. He told me that he just wanted to let me know that I looked crisp like a biscuit.

CRISP LIKE A BISCUIT. Seriously.

We left a while later, taking the beach back to our hotel nearby. As the music was still playing, we ended up dancing on the beach. A woman approached us and kept trying to wrap her arms around us; it took me a while to realize she was a prostitute, and wanted us to take her back to the room with us. Oh, Jamaica. You’re so awesome. We, however, declined.

Unlocking our door, we noticed the tiniest lizard in the universe hanging out in the next room’s windowsill. He hid as soon as we approached, but I could see him peeking out. After that, we saw him there every night. He was so cute!

Since we’re smart and know that one should drink a lot of water after drinking, we stayed up and watched the Lakers/Golden State game on ESPN. I think that was our first contact with the outside world up to that point. We weren’t missing much.

We slept late on Thursday, then headed to swim. For the first time since we arrived, it was slightly overcast. I’d heard from several people that it rains every day in Negril, just for a few minutes at a time, but this was the first hint of it we’d even seen.

We swam for a long time, watching the ‘reggae mariachis’ on the beach and a divebombing bird. The ocean was a little colder than usual without the sun. Around 3pm, we went to change and go find some lunch.

We got a table at Alfred’s, one of the spots that had live music a few nights before. I knew I was dehydrated, because I ended up with three beverages in front of me: water, pop, and Red Stripe. I had a grilled cheese (the European kind, open-faced and toasted), salad, and fries with Grey’s Spicy Sauce. That stuff goes well with anything.

While we sat there, it started raining a tiny bit, though not enough to really soak anything. The people who were sitting in the uncovered areas eating were unbothered by it.

On the way back up the beach, we met both Captain Eveready and Captain Moses, who offered to take us out in their glass-bottom boats. We fully intended to, but their boats were never on the beach when we were around.

We sat on the beach for a long time, reading, chillaxing, and drinking rum punch. We decided that we should run to the store for our own booze, so we could watch the sun set on the patio at our hotel. We wandered out to the street and down the block to Shamrock, the little convenience store we’d passed a few times without realizing it was there. We got a bottle of overproof rum, some Pepsi and Diet Pepsi (they’re not much on Coke there, apparently), Red Stripes, and I got a cheese bun. I was maybe a little obsessed with the concept of the cheese bun, even though I didn’t know exactly what it was.

We returned to our hotel, got a table on the patio, and got to playing cards, drinking, and watching the sunset. I probably don’t have to tell you again just how awesome Jamaica is:

We played cribbage, which involved Matt drawing a picture of a marmot for reasons I know but can’t possibly explain, then we played slappy, the preferred game of drinking people. Once the sun went down, a band started setting up on stage at our hotel. We had no clue they had live music there, so that was spectacular. As the show began, we learned that it was, in fact, their first gig at the hotel. They’d be doing music twice a week from then on, for free. Look out, Bourbon Beach!

The band was Ansel and the Foxtrots. Ansel was a guy in his 60s with one arm. He was a great performer. A few songs into the set, who should wander in but the roving trumpet player? He hopped on stage and started playing with the band. We loved it.

We watched their first set, then decided it was time for dinner. We wandered over to Roots Bamboo, and were promptly seated by a very enthusiastic server, the same one we’d had our first day. He told us his name was Billy Ray, but that people called him Slick. I’m pretty sure you can’t get by in Jamaica without an awesome nickname.

Speaking of awesome nicknames, we’d spend much of our time in the ocean every day speculating about the sign in front of Roots. It advertised Money Cologne’s big birthday bash on February 25, which happened to also be Matt’s birthday. We were sadly leaving a few days prior. We even recognized some of the names on the sign, so we knew it had to be a big deal. But the most exciting part, in general, was the name Money Cologne. Best nickname ever.

I had steamed vegetables and rice, which was way better than it sounds. Matt had oxtail and broad beans. While we ate, we noticed a couple laying on top of each other near the stage, making out.

We went back to the hotel after dinner to catch the rest of Ansel and the Foxtrots’ set. They played ‘No Woman, No Cry’; that was the 6th time we’d heard it, and by then it was actually making me choke up. Seriously, you try being in an amazingly gorgeous place with the person you’re madly in love with, and see if it doesn’t make you a little sentimental, too.

The North Dakotans were in full force for the show. They’d slowly emerged from their rooms and stumbled to the beach in front of the stage. They danced and yelled and became involved in incredibly deep conversations about things they wouldn’t remember the next day. And then at the end of the show, the band broke into ‘Hot Hot Hot’. The female bartenders came out and danced at the front of the stage, and all the old people formed a conga line. IT WAS HYSTERICAL.

Matt and I left them to the conga line, and headed over to the Jungle. My research had shown that Thursday was ladies’ night at the Jungle, and therefore the most crowded. Also, free admission for me!

There were lines of pimped-out cars parked along the road, and people piling out of taxis. We got in line and Matt paid admission. Inside, he got a hand stamp, and a guy wanded him to check for weapons. The wand beeped at both his pockets; he told the guy it was his wallet and lighter, when in reality he had a pocket knife in one of them. The guy didn’t seem to care much, and waved us past.

The downstairs of the Jungle reminded me a lot of the Gay 90s. Sort of cavernous, with bars shoved in various places, and platforms that seemed to not serve much purpose. There was an aquarium with a snake in it. It was also really strange being indoors: apart from the hotel room, we were always some degree of outside.

We followed the music to the right, and saw a bartender excitedly waving us over. We got drinks, and then went to check out the dance floor. It was the typical club floor: round, with a DJ booth above it, VIP rooms on either side, and areas for people to stand and watch. There was hardly anyone in there yet (it was good to know that Negril has the same dance schedule as Minneapolis, at least), so we decided to go check out the upstairs.

We climbed a flight of stairs that had a platform halfway up. It had three couches and a giant TV. A guy was lounging there, watching sports. The upstairs is a giant patio with a bar in the center. There’s a little food stand on the left serving typical Jamaican food, particularly of the fried variety (best idea ever!), and  stage with another DJ booth. Matt and I grabbed what appeared to be the very last unoccupied table; the place wasn’t exactly crowded yet, but the rest would be standing room only.

The place filled up quickly, and the DJ started playing. It was mostly American pop/hiphop; we heard things like Hollaback Girl. It was entertaining, but nobody was really dancing at all. After a while, we decided to surrender our table and see what was going on downstairs. After a stop in the bathroom (where Matt talked to some dudes who were trying to figure out how many mushrooms one should take at a time), we made our way to the dance floor. And that was AWESOME.

They were playing much better hiphop downstairs (we called it the Annex, because of the 90s thing), stuff like 50 Cent and Walk it Out, which I only remember how to do when drunk, much like the Electric Slide. It was packed and unbelievably hot; we were drenched in sweat. I absolutely loved it. After a long time, the DJ started switching the music to more local stuff. He played a lot of dancehall, doing that thing where he’ll mix and swap stuff out every 30 seconds or so, talking over it a ton. He told us it was his birthday the next day approximately 50 times. We got kind of sick of the talking and spastic music changes, and decided to head out. We hadn’t noticed til we were walking out that it was mostly locals at that point. All the tourists had either headed out, or were still up on the patio with Gwen Stefani.

We got back to our hotel close to 3am, and settled into our routine: drinking a lot of water and watching ESPN.