Honeymoon!
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We had to get up at 5:00 AM to get a ride to the airport to catch our flight. I was looking forward to the honeymoon like a woman stranded in the desert looks for water. We had been under so much stress up until wedding day. I craved peace, quiet, relaxation and alone time with my new husband. I was a tad apprehensive about the trip. We had used a local travel agent for the first time, but because we waited too long to book the trip, the only flights available were on Air Jamaica. I really wanted to fly an American carrier. Why? It all had to do with my comfort zone. I had never flown an international carrier and wasn't familiar with them. I should always trust my instincts. On top of that, the travel agent told us she was unable to get an ocean view room...we were booked into mountain view. Unacceptable! John called the resort personally and found out that we could get a deluxe ocean view SUITE for only $40 more a day. So we went for it. We probably should have called the airline too.
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We wandered slowly down to the gate since we still had a some time to kill before boarding. If only we had known. We got to the gate and people were already getting on the plane. There was no boarding announcement. They just opened the doors and people started to pile on. No rhyme or reason! We both had carry-ons and scrambled to get to our seats. There was NO room left in the overhead bins and a man in our isle had filled up the area under ALL the seats in our row with his stuff. He was pretending to be asleep. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to flag down a very harried looking flight attendant. She said in a very clipped and heavily accents voice, "What you want?!" I explained our problem and she shouted at the man and just took the stuff out of the space in front of our seats and carried it away. We shrugged, stowed our bags, and sat down. We had the window and center seats (this was before I learned my lesson and began asking for isle seats) and climbed over the now glaring man on the end. I made myself as comfortable as I could as we waited for take-off.
Once in flight, I swiftly noticed another problem of flying an international air carrier. The cabin of the plane was filling with smoke! I could feel all my mucus membranes drying out, my eyes getting bloodshot and I couldn't stop coughing. I even caught a whiff of a heavier, sweeter smelling kind of smoke (reminded me of college.) As I started worrying about our pilot getting a contact high and landing the plane in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, his voice came over the loud speaker. I could just make out what he was saying over his heavy Jamaican accent..."An if you look out de right of de plane, you see Cuba. Air Jamaica is one of de few airlines permitted in Cuban airspace." Whoa. I began scanning the cabin for any passengers who had a suspicious "terrorist" look about them. As visions of hijacking danced through my head, breakfast was served. The surly flight attendant was back. She threw a small foil wrapped parcel in front of each of us, gave me a dirty look, and moved on. I removed the foil and looked at the runny yellow concoction and little bits of pimento with suspicion. "Looks like eggs," my husband blandly stated the obvious. I should have known better, but I was hungry and willing to overlook my occasional sensitivity to eggs (a mild allergy). I reasoned that it was a very small portion and the semi-raw chunks of potato would cut back the likelihood of a reaction. I topped off the meal with the small can of simulated orange juice-like beverage.
Breakfast complete, I settled back slightly queasy, to play cards with John until we landed. As the plane began to descend, I eagerly looked out the window to catch a first glimpse of the tropical paradise that awaited us. My excitement grew as we broke through the cloud cover and I spotted land. The sun was a little too bright and hot, so I sat back and waited until we were lower to look out the window again. As the plane slowed and leveled off, I looked out the window and my heart sank. The area around the runway looked like a large brown wound in the greenery. I could see rusted tin hangers and other assorted ramshackle outer structures with holes in the roofs and unidentifiable hulks of abandoned equipment strewn around. It was very bleak. I turned slowly to my husband and said, "Honey, this doesn't look like the brochure. I think we are landing in Nicaragua." His eyebrows went up and he leaned over me for a peek. He sank back into his seat and tried to reassure me. "It must get better away from the airport."
We swiftly deplaned (my first time exiting an aircraft down mobile steps right onto the tarmac). The air was so thickly humid, it was almost visible. I instantly broke out into a heavy sweat. I have never been very heat tolerant. It wasn't long before my hair was soaked and plastered to my head. We retrieved our bags and headed through customs. The customs agent gave us some flack for not having passports but eventually let us through. I shot my new husband a dirty look and he shrugged apologetically. The SECOND we were through customs we were assaulted by men trying to rip our bags out of our hands and carry them for us. Other men tried to sell us "Red Stripe" beer in open bottles hidden in plain brown paper bags. I was feeling very overwhelmed! We managed to find the green and white buses described in our itinerary that would bring us to our resort. The driver grabbed our bags and put them in the bin under the bus and we boarded with relief. It took a few moments to locate a seat with a functioning window. The bus was already filled with smoke from the other passengers and we just knew the air conditioning would not be working. We were right. As we waited for our driver to get underway, I glanced out the window and noticed all the bags from our bus were being quickly removed and loaded onto another green and white bus. I grabbed John's arm and pointed just as the other driver closed the luggage compartment, climbed aboard, and left. I was certain that was the last we would ever see of our baggage.
Our bus finally got underway and as we left the airport I noticed two things. The driver was on the wrong side of the rode and the speed limit signs said 25 kilometers per hour. John told me that was like 20 mph. Our bus was probably doing 60. We began to climb in altitude as our bus went up a road that looked as if it were carved into the side of a cliff. I saw no guardrails, but the bus didn't slow down. The road was so narrow I couldn't see pavement out our side of the bus. It was just the dizzying drop and then the water below. Suddenly the curves arrived. Again our bus didn't slow down. The road didn't look wide enough to accommodate two vehicles in each direction and we tested that fact many times. The honking of oncoming cars and taxis as they swerved around our bus made me jump in terror every time. The constant sway as the bus teetered on the brink around curves so tight that John couldn't keep from sliding and crashing into me on the seat was beginning to make me ill. The more the bus jerked and swayed, the sicker I felt. Finally, John traded seats with me so I wouldn't look out the window and increase my motion sickness. I put my head down between my knees and took a deep breath...it took 15 minutes before I could stop coughing from the big cloud of smoke I inhaled.
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My husband came over after a while and glumly announced that our room wasn't ready. I was too washed out to protest. We sat in the lobby for an hour until the room was ready. In the meantime I noticed a man bringing in luggage. I sighed with relief when our suitcase came through the door. How in the world did the bags arrive AFTER us when they left before...??? Ah well. At least we were on our way to our room. The bellman opened the door for us and we got our first look around. The room was beyond
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The rest of our week long vacation went by in a flash. We romped and snorkeled in the surf, spent tons of time in our pretty suite, relaxed in hammocks, dared each other to take the boat ride over to the private island/nude beach, and ate only dinner and midnight snack each day (we slept the morning away). We never left the resort. I had no desire to see Dunns River Falls or go shopping at the public markets. I'd had enough of being approached by hordes of begging locals trying to sell us something. On the second to last day, both John and I were hit with some sort of intestinal ailment. We spent the rest of the trip taking turns in the bathroom. It was awful! One of us would pace while the other used the facilities, then we would trade. John screwed up his resolve and ran to the resort gift shop and bought out their supply of Imodium AD. We prayed it would start working before we got on that nightmarish bus ride back to the airport. It kicked in just in the nick of time! I got smart and dozed on John's shoulder all the way back. I didn't even move when the bus stopped at another "rest stop", but John screwed up his courage to go pee. He came rushing back onto the bus mumbling, "gross...gross...gross" under his breath. I grinned weakly and went back to sleep. We liked our resort, but as things stand, we have NO desire to return to Jamaica for another visit. Whew! Oh! And one last thing...I went with the flow and did a "10" thing with my hair. I got cornrows! Even funnier than a really white girl with cornrows? Going for my NJ drivers license name change and getting the new photo taken...in cornrows. I had that photo on there for four years. HAHAHAHAHA!
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