Jamaica, May 2006: Day 1, May 18, 2006, Montego Bay, Ocho Rios (Jet Lag, Left-Side Driving, Coming Home)
I haven’t been back to
Jamaica in almost three years.
I know those who’ve never been to
Jamaica are rolling their eyes right now at my distress, but this tropical paradise isn’t just a vacation, it’s my homecoming for another’s homegoing.
My mother had asked me to accompany her to
Jamaica for the funeral of her Aunt Myrtle.
I remembered her from my childhood and was saddened by the loss, but happy about the opportunity to see
Jamaica again.
Halfway through the two and a half hour flight from
Atlanta, I was dead asleep seeing that I had been up since
2:30 a.m. that day.
It’s a family tradition to pack at the last minute on the day of any trip.
I awoke to the lyrical, but annunciated voice of the flight attendant announcing our final descent into
Montego Bay, Jamaica.
The plane banked sharply to the left to line up with the airport’s lone runway, that’s when I caught a glimpse of Jamaican north coast with the
Blue Mountains in the foreground.
I must’ve seen this sight dozens of times from my trips here as a child, but this time felt different.
I was here to experience
Jamaica as a man, not as a child.
I wanted to see the good and bad, I would get more than I asked for.
After a bumpy landing I expected to go through a long wait at the arrivals hall without air conditioning. I was sadly mistaken when we disembarked at one of Donald Sangster Montego Bay International Airport’s new jetways and went quickly through immigration with the help of computers and document scanners. The inconvenient charm of this island airport had been replaced with progressive sterilization. It was probably more palatable to non-Jamaican visitors, but I liked things the way they were. I guessed progress had to catch up to all places eventually.
After immigration and customs, my mother and I picked up our rental car, a swift Suzuki Lianna, and ventured out to a five day left-side of the road excursion to mourn and have fun doing it – typical Jamaican style. The first day was spent sloshing through intermittent, but heavy rainstorms on a newly started, but halfway finished highway along the north coast of the island. Our destination was the resort town of Ocho Rios, meaning “eight rivers” in Spanish. More commonly called “Ochi,” the town is a leisurely two-hour drive east from Montego Bay and north from Kingston, the capital. We arrived victorious, giddy that we had just driven through rain, mud and other aggressive Jamaican drivers all while on the opposite side of the road. I felt my dad giving me a “thumbs up” from heaven. Usually he did all the driving. 
We checked in to the Sunset Jamaica Grande Resort (Main Street), a behemoth all-inclusive resort sitting on Turtle Beach. Staying in a place like Jamaica Grande went against my manifesto of experiencing a destination instead of just visiting it. Even though the staff is entirely Jamaican, guests are limited from experiencing the island’s true culture. I made the exception for my mother’s desire for affordability, comfort and peace of mind. I made more concessions on the basis that all-inclusive resorts mean free food and drinks, including alcohol. I was at the bar within five minutes of our arrival.
In my honest opinion, Sunset Jamaica Grande is comparable to a cruise ship, but on land. Everything’s provided so you don’t have to worry, but you can get bored easily if you run out of things to do. Luckily we were only staying one night, so we had plenty of fun. The rooms are respectable for the price of $200/night. I was just glad for a comfortable bed and the alcohol helped too. I tried to lay down for an hour nap especially seeing that the latest rainstorm had turned the colorful scenery into a dreary muck. I didn’t succeed in my napping endeavor, but I was glad to be awake seeing that the rainstorm had dissipated leaving behind a glorious sunset.
Slightly refreshed, we changed for dinner at the Grande Buffett, the resort’s main dining room. Dinner was surprisingly authentic. The pepper steak, callaloo, yams and bammy were offset with Westernized rice, barbecue chicken and various other items. I was content at the variety, plus I never pass up a free meal. Full from two helpings of dinner and dessert we wandered around the grounds catching a floor show in the entertainment pavilion and finally ending up in the resort’s nightclub, Jamaica Me Crazy. I only lasted an hour after dinner. The food, drinks and need for rest had caught up with me and soon found myself groggily stumbling towards my bed.
After immigration and customs, my mother and I picked up our rental car, a swift Suzuki Lianna, and ventured out to a five day left-side of the road excursion to mourn and have fun doing it – typical Jamaican style. The first day was spent sloshing through intermittent, but heavy rainstorms on a newly started, but halfway finished highway along the north coast of the island. Our destination was the resort town of 
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