In May, 1987, Barb convinced me to go to Jamaica Jamaica, where she had gone with her law school friend, Kate, the year before. This was my first trip to an all-inclusive resort and first time in Jamaica. The resort is no longer called Jamaica Jamaica and appears to have become the Jewel Runaway Bay Beach Resort.
I must say, I enjoyed the resort, especially the unlimited alcohol. Barb had more fun with the pool, beach, eating and especially napping.
The beach was pretty. There was a nude beach and pool area, neither of which we partook of, but it was kind of fun and risque to know it was there. Most of the folks there seemed to be older European tourists who probably should have kept their suits on.
Jamaica itself was a little sketchy, though we didn’t see a lot of it. The hour or so trip from the airport was not very impressive — it was still clearly a very poor country with a number of cloistered, high-walled resorts along the coastline.
We had one excursion off-resort to Dunn River Falls; the Falls themselves were fun, but we had to get through a gauntlet of touts foisting all manner of ganja, massages, hair braiding and other questionable delights to the tourists. The same sort of touts would appear daily on the beach as well.
In all, we had a fun few days, ate a lot of mediocre food, I drank a lot, and we both got more sun than we should have. But I wasn’t impressed enough with Jamaica to have been drawn back. Once again, I’d been spoiled by Hawaii.
You must be logged in to post a comment.