Find Me In Jamaica #6

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20 June 2002

12:35 a.m.

Nature's Music

Jamaican coast

Is this the work of a beautiful mind or schizophrenia setting in? There is so much noise that I can't even contemplate sleep. I hear an orchestra around me. The intensity is unbearable. The air conditioner hums, the ceiling fan whirs, bugs eek and purr and the sound doesn't stop. Today I read this and realize I fell asleep before I could finish writing what else was in the concerto. Chaos theory confirmed. In chaos, all is in order and nothing is astray. I wake up the next morning and we are on our way from Round Hill to the Blue Lagoon Villas.

2:30 p.m.

Air Jamaica

Flight from Montego Bay to Port Antonio (stopover in Ocho Rios)

I have to release myself of responsibility for everyone else's happiness. If others cannot be happy in their lives, there will be nothing I can do to change that without affecting my own happiness. This applies to all my relationships, family and friends. Marriage includes compromise, but must also include joy. If a personal choice of either party creates pain, depression, resentment or anger the situation must be addressed and change must be made or unhappiness will reign in the union. Okay, enough internal reflection for now.

Mickey's Jerk Center

I am irritated at the constant delays in Jamaica and decide it is not too early to start drinking. I get a Red Stripe from the concession stand, and realize that there are two couples across from us and they are also drinking. I wonder if they are on our flight and listen to their dialogue. They have children, and they have tattoos. I wonder what they do for a living and how they can afford the trip. They are going to a SANDALS-type resort and look good. They have nice clothes and jewelry and I wonder if they have a retirement plan or if they spend all their money on material possessions. What is their normal? I am dying to compare it to mine. I want to learn about other minds, other perspectives. Mine is warped. I can't imagine a tattooed, southern blue-collar worker being able to afford a trip to Jamaica. I am warped to believe that I can't or shouldn't be here and I am a successful entrepreneur. I am a lost soul. I am confused. That is why I am here, to find myself and try to understand.

Finally, two Red Stripes later, we are boarding. The two couples are not on our plane, but the view is awesome. I leave David to sit by my own window and take plenty of pictures. I get the same feeling I did on Famous Vincent's Glass-Bottom Boat. I love puddle jumpers. It is so cool to be so close to the ground and see so much in such a short period of time. I feel free.

The Blue Lagoon Villas

Boston Jerk and Festival

We arrive almost two hours late, but Stephanie Scott is waiting for us. She called, but still had to wait and picked us up at the airport. She drove us to the Villas, showed us around, and insisted on taking us to "Boston, the home of Jerk." We had told her how much we loved "Jerk", and she began to educate us on where it all began. The home of the famous "Jerk" meat was in Boston, which was nearby. She took us to her favorite spot and treated us to lots of JERK and FESTIVAL, a rod of deep-fried dough. On the way back to Blue Lagoon we detoured to Goblin Hill and Stephanie reminisced of her childhood. When we arrived back at Blue Lagoon Villas, Stanford, our host, was waiting with drinks while Tucker cooked a dinner of chicken saut�ed with a peanut sauce with chocolate silk pie for dessert. It was wonderful, and Stephanie bid us goodnight in the safe hands of her staff. We ate dinner on the dock and stared in awe at the view. When we finally went to bed, we were full and had drunk many rum punches.

I awoke at 4:30 a.m. with a stomach ache (was it the Jerk or the Rum Punch?). See tomorrow's entry to see what I wrote in my Journal for an hour.



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