Our family of four just returned from a trip to Jamaica. It was our first time to visit there in spite of talking about it for years; we had a wonderful experience.
We waited in Kingston for our next plane to arrive (12 hours later)and choose to stay at the Morgan House Hotel. I loved the short ride from the airport as the road twisted around jungle and occasionally there was a break in the brush that allowed a glimpse of the distant mountains. Our driver's smile was contagious and soon I was sitting back in the mini bus smiling in spite of the fact my 4 year old son wasn't in a car seat and we were on a twisty road going 70 mph.
We arrived at our hotel as 3 miles goes quite fast in spite of twisty roads. Morgan House Hotel is built on an old Navy dockyard and is now nestled in a little residential section of Port Royal, the richest and most wickedest town in Jamaica once a upon a time long ago in the early century. Now it is a little ghost town with a few single estates and a hotel.
I could have done a bit more research about the hotel that we stayed at, but I had to take a real vacation. My husband had just returned from Iraq and while he worked very hard for our country, I worked very hard raising two children while working fulltime for an architect and writing on the side. It was time for a break, but I could not fight the desire to write just a little. Morgan House Hotel was very clean which is a relief; I have been in my share of nasty dirty hotels. Beautiful landscaping invited us in and the paintings on the hotel lobby walls told a history that no living member of my family would remember, of days when the British had a fort and occupied Jamaica. Wait, that would be from my husband's great great grandfather's era when he was governor of Jamaica and the bastard son of a royal family member back home in England. Some other time I will dig up more facts about Port Royal but not now. Now, the marina beckons me. I can hear the beautiful song the wooden boats make as they gently rock in the waves.
That night, after I wandered all over the sandy beach, listening to the waves gently pull back with the tide emptying the salt water pool, I sadly discovered that the water pressure in our room was so low that I had to use a bucket to collect enough water to rinse. There was no explanation in advance from the management. There was one towel to share for the four of us; I choose to air dry much to my 12 year old daughter’s dismay. I was too tired to ask for another one and the stifling heat was slightly decreased by the new but inefficient air conditioner. The large gap between the two doors that led to the open area by the bay probably helped what air conditioning was in the room...escape. No one thought of adding weather-stripping as it might have stopped the little mosquitoes from coming in. I didn’t care that the advertised cable and wi-fi didn't work as I was wonderfully tired from swimming in the regular chlorinated pool. Somehow we managed to wake up on time in spite of the wake-up call that we didn't get because it was logged into the wrong day-a vacation must always have something that is funny!
I want more time in Port Royal, Jamaica. It was unfair that we were there for only 12 hours. I loved the history, the culture, the food, the people...I loved the untamed wilderness and pray that this country doesn't become a concrete island like Puerto Rico. I know I was only in one part of the town for a small amount of time, but I fell in love. Granted, I have not lived there...so I know that visiting a place is different than living there...but at least I was able to have a taste.
No comments:
Post a Comment