bohb's trip to Jamaica...

** note **

if you are easily offended by gratuitous pictures of pale sweaty men smoking lots of joints, turn back now.

do you think i'm pretty?

ok, the important stuff. this is the weed i got upon arrival from my Taxi driver. It weighed a bit over an ounce and was $110. Perhaps not as cheap as i'd hoped, but certainly it was really good 'kind' quality and the buds were GORGEOUS as you can see here.

as an added benefit you can see the lovely shack i rented in the background. Don't mock, it was right on the beach, but yes, it lowered the value of the term 'rustic'.

Here's some more pictures of my weed and my first joint in Jamaica

this is a water coconut. despite the fact that i ate very little normal food. had a number of Red Stripes, smoked like 400 joints and drank very little water: i decided to blame this specific water coconut later that night when i puked my guts out in my hotel room... i mean shack.

this is where i ate my first meal in Jamaica. i came in the off season, there's no people here.

Odd story: So of course i want to eat Jerk Chicken upon arrival in Jamaica. so i wander from the 'hotel' and go into town and insist on finding a place that looks at least a bit local. this place was on the side of the road, and had a HUGE (like 8' across) sign out front that said 'Jerk Chicken'. So i decide it's perfect, and i'm hungry and i've been looking long enough. I sit down at the table, a waitress comes up and i say, "i'd like Jerk Chicken". she says, "we don't have Jerk Chicken, we have baked chicken". I pointedly look at the sign that is mostly above both of our heads and look back at her. She holds my gaze. i look at the sign again and look back at her. she continues to hold my gaze. i look at the sign one last time in a very pointed way and pantomime reading it. i look back and she rather pleasantly is still holding my gaze. "i'll have baked chicken" i said. This proved to be a continuing pattern on my trip. jerk chicken is certainly not as prevalent or saturated with the locals as one would believe from pop culture. at least not in the off season. I did eat jerk chicken twice while i was there, but in restaurants that felt decidedly unauthentic. which was a little disappointing.

i include this picture to not only demonstrate my unbelievable hi-fi prowess but to have an excuse to mention that i didn't turn on my room tv the entirety of my four day stay. not once. didn't even check to make sure it worked.

that's not my penis, it's another joint.

i smoked a lot of joints.

on my second day i decided to go on a long walking trip up into the west end cliffs. everyone agrees that this is the more cultural, local and 'rasta' area of Negril. Unfortunately everyone also agrees that it is rather dangerous and people (tourists such as myself mostly) get robbed pretty routinely up there. Well, despite the advice i received from pretty much everyone i asked and didn't, i decided to walk up there by myself anyway. it took me about 2.5 hours to get to the furthest point i'd heard of or seen listed on a map of the area which was called Jackie's Coral Reef Bar. it wasn't open, go figure. I really could have used a beer at the end of that walk. Along the way you pass a place called Rick's Cafe, which is a rather famous bar in Negril. I went there for dinner the next night, so more on that later. Here's some more pictures of my West End Cliff's day. it was so unbelievably beautiful. I constantly was stopped by locals, some nice, some rather demanding. The oddest was a dude who just came up to me and told me I had to give him money cause i was white and had more than him. When i declined he got really pushy (physically and verbally). It was the only scary moment of the walk though. Otherwise most people were nice, and just pushy salesmen/women that had to be declined over and over and over and over again. When you are walking, you can't zip past anyone very fast, especially when they have no problem walking with you about the distance of a city block to argue with you about why you aren't going back to look at their wares. it's a very odd vendor culture without question

on my way out of town... notice i am very white now, that will change to a painful red soon enough

some of the houses and lawns were quite lovely

bus stop?

this is what all the bars look like once you get out of the tourist area. there is no inside. only outside, they hand the beers out the door or a window and you stand around drinking them. some of the nicer beer huts have tables around the outside, most don't. Red Stripe once you get out of town is 100 Jamaican dollars (67 Jamaican to 1 US).

ok... notice (there will be a close-up later) the alcove in the distance with a hammock in it? trust me it's there. the next few pictures are of me trying to get to that hammock. between this picture and the next i jump a fence. this is totally in the middle of nowhere at this point, and i've definitely not seen any other white people (just an observation, not racist you jerks) for over an hour. So this felt really sketchy, but i was really feeling good, cause about a picture ago by that beer shack i bought 2 weed muffins from a guy. I was totally offended that i paid $5 each for them, but that's the best i could talk him into. Well, wow. these ended up being the strongest weed anythings that i've ever eaten, and they made my whole adventure seem rather surreal and harmless. in hindsight it probably wasn't a very good idea to jump some dudes fence and try to get to a hidden hammock in the middle of Jamaican nowhere in an area that is known for high crime to white folk... oh well. hindsight is 20/20.

as you can see i was in the proper mindset for this adventure

the edge was a bit steep...

turn your head on it's side, i can't figure out how to rotate this picture

the foliage that looked so walkable from a distance quickly became taller than me, remember i was wearing only flip flops

i begin to question how much i still desire this vantage point

more steepy scariness...

pose for the camera you sexy bitch

oh, i'm so close now...

even closer... although it looks a bit sketchier now. i'm beginning to wonder if it's someone's actual home rather than sun porch...

the view back

and i give up, what is that black thing on my chest?

i continue my walk in the cliffs, although i think this was from my way back. Oddly, every once in a while a really amazing resort just pops up between a bunch of shitty looking shacks. it's odd. but when you look at it from the cliffside you realize that the resorts are placed at really amazing alcoves in the cliffs, there's one at that point in the distance.

same view, maybe better picture

if you look in the background you can see the remains of what must have been a very nice house at some point. i got closer, it's in ruins. there were a lot of these along the way.

and i return home safely & sweatily, a job well done. and another congratulatory joint.

The Town Area of Negril.

These pics are from the general locals town area. Since my hotel was the second from the end of the not desirable, so near the town, end of the 7 mile beach strip Negril is famous for - the town was no more than a 10 minute walk.

this is a school, most of it is open air and all the kids have to wear uniforms. notice in all the pictures i'm either shirtless or unbuttoned, wearing shorts, flip flops and sweating like an 8 year old factory worker. These kids wear the most too warm looking outfits and never break a sweat.

the towns only internet access point for the public. look closely at the sign in the middle. 'Futuristic Internet Here'. amazing. i hear they have the internet on computers now...

if you order 'Jamaican Breakfast - Chicken' on any menu, this is what shows up. The other option is 'Jamaican Breakfast - Saltfish', which didn't really tantalize me. it looks really lunchy to me, but i'm a stupid American.

The next day since I went in the cliffs prior, i decided to go on an all day beach adventure. the beach is reputed to be 7 miles long and stretching up the coast. my 'hotel' as previously mentioned is one from the last on the bad end. at the other end are the nicest resorts. In the middle is everything you can imagine from crappy little hotels, to mini resorts, to nude beaches. i decided I would try to walk the entire thing. it would be fun. i packed all my misc supplies into little Ziploc baggies, so i could jump in the water whenever the mood hit me. I thought this was the greatest of ideas. So, i rolled about 8 good size joints, put my cash in a baggie with an ATM card and put the camera and cell phone in a third bag. Well, somehow i left that third bag in my room, cause i didn't have it for the entire day. I must say the day off from even the option to check and see if you got an interesting text message was a bit freeing, but i wish i had pics from that long day of walking sunlight adventure. especially the parts where i passed all the topless European girlies. oh well. snapshots in my mind, i'm thinking them at you... do you see what i see?

Everyone talks about some famous place up in the cliffs called Rick's Cafe. it's a place that has the reputed 'best sunsets' and also the best vantage point for watching cliff divers. I decided to go there for dinner. This was a place i passed on my cliff adventure the day earlier, so i knew where it was and that it looked rather high end from the front entrance. I went up there, it was spectacular. beautiful place all built on the edge of a cliff. anyone can just leap off the side of the cliff and climb up an etched stone stairway back up to the restaurant and bar area. But... they hire these super buff native dudes to thrill the customers by constantly jumping off not only the cliff, but a tree that shoots another 30 ft up or so, giving those jumps a total height of over 50'. It looked really cool. if i had known i would have come earlier and brought a change of clothes, cause the jumps landed you in the most stunning alcove in the cliffs with brilliant blue waters. I of course forgot my camera, but... i downloaded some pics off the internet of the place to put here instead.

well, after a long day of walking in the sun i returned to my room and crashed for a bit. when i emerged the entire area was so dark and deserted i thought perhaps i'd missed a total evacuation or something. seriously, my hotel as well as those on either side were completely dark and it was only 10pm or so. the lobby, the bar, everything. so odd. i finally found someone and asked, and they simply said "oh, Wednesdays are dead around here"... strange.

so i walk up the beach, i've decided i actually want to hang out with other people tonight, maybe make new friends or something. I can't find a single place with more than 3 people in it as i walk down the beach. except for one place. damn. there's like 100 people, everyone is having fun, there's a bonfire... it's Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. I tried i really did, i bought 2 drinks. But really, i have nothing to relate to a bunch of people who unironically really get into a cover band playing the song 'margaritaville' so much that they are hugging and going 'yeah' and singing along to every word... passionately. I hated these people. i didn't understand how these people from college age to late 40's couples could be loving it so much and i was miserable. guess it just wasn't my scene. i had to leave.

i walked further on the beach - OMITTED - and eventually met a guy who wanted to be called Dr. Fabulous.

While he did initially try to sell me, he gave up quickly and just asked if he could walk and talk with me and show me the way to a local's bar that had a good scene that night. While i figured i might be robbed, i also figured i only had about $50 on me and just to go with it. besides i was on mushrooms too. good decision. this bar was crazy, i had to be the only white dude in the entire place. other than one slight altercation i had with one dude who wasn't happy i was there, i had a great time. there was a live band playing, and best i could figure it was a house band that backed up every singer that got up to perform. so the live entertainment was seamless. The band was so much better than the bland reggae bands that i'd seen at the bars along the beach, and the singers were great and all performed original material. Alex (Dr. Fabulous) explained to me as they went that a number of them had local hits on the radio.

there was a 20' long by 10' high wall of speakers that were out on the beach itself reinforcing whatever was played on the clubs 'interior' (just a roof, there were no walls on the club). out by those speakers every 15 minutes or so a flame dancer would just erupt and the crowd would go wild as they did their routine. it was a cool scene. I noticed that the club extended inland a bit more than i could see and i asked Dr. Fabulous (real name Alex, let's change it) what was back there. He immediately took my arm and led me back.

The entire back area were these small (15X15 ish) shacks that were predominately populated by hookers. the minute my white ass was back there i was totally attacked by hookers. some looking exactly like what you'd expect a jamaican hooker to look like (nasty), but others... wow. kinda surprising. but of course i held strong. we navigated all this out to the road where there were all sorts of vendors selling foods on sticks. i was too drunk and high to eat. we briefly ventured into another bar, but it was a little too local and i asked if we could go back to the beachfront bar. we hung there till almost close (2am) and Alex said it was time to go back to his place. i was a bit nervous that i was in for a really awkward gay situation, but also i got a feeling he didn't mean anything bad either. so we went back.

turns out he works/manages/owns (who knows) with his 'cousins' a really low end motel within walking distance of the clubs. We go over there, i meet a black pony named Rastamuffin (he was nice) and Alex goes to the back building and knocks on a few walls along the way. We sit next to a small hut at the front of the road. Wordlessly a tall thin man that Alex one-way introduces as his uncle. The uncle goes to the shack and flips a switch, the shack lights up and music starts playing in one move and next thing you know the uncle is handing out Red Stripes and Alex is rolling a nice joint full of really oily hash. as we start smoking another white dude who i quickly meet as Mike Powers from Minnesota comes out of a room. I guess he's a regular and a really cool guy. He sits out and smokes and drinks with us and now the atmosphere is more comfortable. I no longer think i'm going to be gay raped, which makes it more enjoyable to say the least. Well, then the next odd thing happens. out of a number of other rooms emerge about 5 hookers. Turns out Alex runs or his uncles run, a brothel of sorts. ha, wow. i had been brought back to be tempted by his harem of hookers. well, it's a good thing mike powers took the underage looking thin unbelievably hot super dark skinned hottie back to his room, cause that was the only one that would have made me have to think twice. All the others were really large intimidating fat women. I explained that i wasn't in the market for a girl at the moment, and all was good. we just sat and drank and smoked for a long while. it was really fun. finally i announced i had to leave, and Alex insisted that his uncle drive me home as it was late to walk and not get robbed. i got in their car with the uncle driving, me shotgun and alex and a super fat hooker in the back. we drive to my hotel and they once again offer me the fat hooker, i decline. the uncle then says "Tip for Driver" i gave him about $8 US, that's the only words i heard him speak all night. odd fun night. and no pictures.

next day / last day

on my last day i had till about noon to waste time, so i decided to walk the beach and look for edible weed for my flight. I ran into the dealer/vendor/nice guy a few doors down from my 'hotel' named Dr. Bob (why are they all dr's?). he'd hooked me up with the shrooms the night before so i stopped and told him i wanted some weed cake. he insisted he could get the best if i sent him with $10 while i waited at the vendor stand with his sister. oh well. i gave him the $10. i waited and waited for a bit.

The sister, noticing my amazing sun burn said i need an aloe massage. why not i figured. i gave her some money and she proceeded to give me a fairly good massage while rubbing in an amazing amount of aloe RIGHT FROM THE PLANT! really amazing, and my burn felt so much better and was less red immediately. right as my massage ended Bob showed back up with my weed cake. i ate it and continued on my way.

along my way i ran into Mike Powers (he who left with the only hot hooker the other night). we talked for a bit and i told him i was leaving and was looking for edible highness for my flight. He insisted on taking me to meet Barbara.

Barbara ends up to be a 60 year old hippie woman who lives nearby with her long term boyfriend Thunder. Barbara is a white jewish grandma looking hippie and Thunder is a super dark black man rasta with dready hair. I was with them for about an hour and a half, and thunder had an impressive doobie hanging from his mouth the entire time. Barbara was crazy with the weed.

They lived together in a two room shack, really a shack, that they paid $200 a month for. She kept it year round and toured in an RV to US hippie festivals all summer. She sold glassware to pay for the place and lived in Jamaica when not touring. An odd crazy lifestyle. She packed unending bowls in the vaporizer while we were there, all while passing a joint. she fed me hash chocolates, brought me a cup of 'gange tea' that she proudly announced she had been brewing all night and when i said i was flying out later, gave me three candies (2 hard like jolly ranchers and one caramel lollipop) that were made from weed oils or something. she was really cool. After hanging out there for a while i decided it was time to go pack and left.

back at the hotel i huffed and puffed but just could not blow all my smoke down. I was a bit disappointed in myself. i figured for sure i could smoke over an ounce in four days, but as much as i tried i had way too much left. look, this is my leftovers that i left - hopefully someone who wanted it - in my room.

oh that's just wrong... so much wasted! i put the harmonica in there for scale.

OK, time to go. called a cab back to Montego Bay about one hour away to catch my 3pm flight. I left at noon. the ride was uneventful and i arrived at the airport only to discover that my flight was delayed BY SIX HOURS. holy shit.

i decide to check my bags and waste the day in Montego Bay. While Montego Bay does have a number of resorts, it doesn't have the open beach or bar scene of Negril. Pretty much the entire beach is monopolized by all-inclusive resorts, so you can't get to anywhere really.

i was ashamed. but the only place i could find to waste time and have a decent outdoor perch was... damn... Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. I sat there for 4 hours or even a bit more. While the music and decor was harrible, i insisted on getting a table by the rail looking over the water, read my book (first time i opened it the entire trip) and nursed beers. it was rather relaxing. here's some pics of my table view.

i had brought one last joint with me from the hotel 'just in case'... good thing. so i finally left Margaritahell and found a little alley (old school chicago style) to smoke my joint. i nursed it slowly and enjoyed it. now high once again i wandered the town and found my way to a locals beach for sunset. it wasn't as well maintained as the other beaches i'd been too, but it was really pretty. Here's some pics

ok, so adventure over i get into another cab and go back to the airport. i've still got 3 hours to kill. I go to the ticket desk and due to my delay i'm given a meal voucher at... damn... the airport Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. It's comical at this point. they forced my hand and i sit at the cheesy place and dine on substandard nachos.

home, 2:30am

you made it to the end? congrats. do you want to hear the songs i wrote while there? well then don't click these links fool: Respect, Searchin Boy, Upside Down