You’ll always find good, like minded people where ever you go.
But sometimes you have to scratch the surface a little harder…
Oh Montego Bay… What an adventure. We left Houston beyond excited to begin our journey and landed eyes wide and bushy tailed. The moment we stepped foot outside the airport doors, we were prime targets and fresh meat. How little we knew, how much we had to learn.
Jenna: With luck and fate, we ended up at Cedar Ridge Lodge, where Arlene, First Man and Cardalisa were more than amazing. Having spent months in Jamaica, these few are among the handful of genuine individuals we met. With arms wide open and genuine love for all, we were embraced and safe here.
Luke: Arlene was wonderful. She drew us a map on our first day and provided us with a wealth of information to travel the island, with various contacts and accommodation suggestions.
We set off down bouge hill via a route taxi which doesn’t cost much as you are hopping in with the locals. We made it to the bus stop and were packed in like sardines, all headed towards Negril.
Upon arrival we hired a moped from a man called Rambo and intended to ride it around the island. Wishful thinking.
Jenna: The first night in Negril we stayed at a backpackers, where the owner was not only overwhelming, but so rude. I’ve not met a man like him before. It was disgusting. Our fellow French hipster backpacker said ‘in Jamaica, money is obsession’ how right he was. The next morning Luke set out early (by force) to find us a new place to rest our heads.
Luke: It has been rough at times but magnificent at others and we will never get the opportunity to do it again!!!
Jenna: Luke checked us into a mini resort on the Carribean coast. He was rum punching it all day on his own. When I came to meet him on the beach lets just say pickled is putting it nicely.
Luke: It was such an ordeal the day before with both Rambo and the inn keeper from hell, lets call him chicken George. Once I had solved the issue of where we would be resting our heads and been given a welcome rum punch, it was like red rag to a bull. I got pissed. Alone, but had a ball. By the time Jenna caught up on her sleep and came to greet me I was falling in and out of the water like a bumbling walrus. I didn’t see the sun set that evening due to being star shaped in our hut.
Jenna: It was jokes. Onward we moved with all intention of making it to Treasure Beach, but our shitty ass moped broke down in the middle of nowhere and we had to get towed to the nearest town, Black River. Shit on top of shit. Rambo was kind enough to bring us another bike, but the following day it broke down 5 miles outside of Treasure Beach. Luke pushed it up the hills and we had to sail this thing down. It was ridiculous. We ditched it and walked the rest of the way. I was so angry at this point I shouted hate at anyone who would listen.
Luke: Please, when factoring in all the issues that we had to solve and that it was fffff-ing hot, we looked like we had just come out of the Sahara desert. It was exhausting and the only help you will get costs in Jamaica – this we know from every angle of a hustle that hit us.
The bike was knackered and I was happy to ditch the piece of shit at the nearest hairdressers. It wasn’t so much the bike as it was the horrific roads and people that you see on them. It was as if you were going to get pulled off the road and dragged into a corn field. Threatening hungry eyes honed in on us, which have a darkness behind them, always hunting for an angle to extract wedge from an ever tightening purse string. I’m struggling to warm to this country.
Jenna: We spent the next couple of days at Shakespeare’s Cottage in Treasure Beach. Bliss. The owner was a peaceful man who kept to himself and allowed us to get on. We spent most days on the deserted beach, diving in and out of massive waves.