While I was in Jamaica, once
Written by Bwog Staff
Bwog coffeeshop reviewer Downing Bray took a break from caffeine this week in the Caribbean, and made it home to tell the tale. Her hazy memories follow.
Jamaica, it seems, was the place to be this spring break. On this sunny island of white beaches and clear blue water, of abundant Red Stripe and weed, many a Columbian could be spotted sunning, perhaps with a beer or joint in hand, showing off their bathing attire and nascent tans . . . or more likely their lack thereof (got neither? No problem mon!). In Negril, on the very western tip of the island, pale New Yorkers mingled with hordes of other college spring breakers (and high schoolers—they only tell you their age after the hook-up). Days disappeared while we sprawled on the beach, sloshing in the ocean while sloshed, or tripping over the sand munching on a special cake. Nights were basically the same, minus the sun and plus much more sloshing and tripping. Adorned with multiple fluorescent wristbands, Columbians jumped from bar to open bar while and experiencing the joys of easily accessible weed (check out the back pocket of the guy in the yellow shirt). Along with pot, throngs of locals sold fruit and souvenirs, lobsters and patties, parasail adventures and booze cruises—other than tourism, all the
Jamaican economy has going for it is something called bauxite, so we’re walking meal tickets.
Hot spots included Rick’s Bar, the site of cliff-jumping and endless drunken pick-up lines; Margaritaville, the pivotal gathering point of trashy spring breakers, equipped with a water trampoline, cheesy decoration and a live stage featuring horrible music; and The Jungle, the nightclub where Grammy-nominee Beenie-Man reggaed the night away. Suffice it to say, midterm stress faded away, whether through enjoying the jerk chicken or taking advantage of . . . other things. Coming from the land where every little thing is gonna be alright to the snow-covered sidewalks of Columbia has been rough—blurry Negril memories, plus sand still stuck in my suitcase, will have to see me through till summer.