I managed to scrape myself out of the cabin and down to
one of the restaurants for some breakfast.
I kept a slice of toast and sip of coffee down before having a dip in
the Jacuzzi in an attempt to ease the all over pain I was feeling from being
sick for 14 straight hours The Jacuzzi
wasn’t actually on, so I was really just lying in a big public bath. After exhausting myself sitting in some water,
I headed back to bed in the hope that I’d feel a bit better by the time we
docked in Jamaica.
I forced myself to get off the ship in Ocho Rios and my
stomach was thrilled to see no tenders, as the dock was big enough to ensure
that I didn’t have to get on another boat
before my feet hit terra firma.
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| Welcome to...Chorios? I think this guy overestimated the amount of space he had. |
The minute I got to the island, the rain started. It was extremely hot, but very wet, and just
past immigration I found myself a local guide called Orville, who agreed to
take me around and show me the sights.
I prayed that he would drive slowly as I really didn’t want to be sick
in the back of his taxi.
The roads in Jamaica were in a pretty poor state in some
areas. They’re worse than some of the
roads in Lanarkshire, if you can believe such a thing. I was treated to a few Bob Marley numbers by
my tour guide and asked the age old question ‘do you like to party?’, which I’m
reliably informed means ‘do you like to smoke weed?’ I replied that I didn’t and Orville looked
at me like I had two heads. Explaining
to him that I’d been really sick for the past day, he seemed to accept that as
a valid excuse and asked no further questions.
Orville took me to a part of the island called the
Rainforest, which is the area that sees the most rain per year. By Scottish standards, it was nothing, but
we can’t all live in wet places, can we?
On the way there, we passed the No Problem Bed and Breakfast and Orville
explained that, when you check in there, all your problems disappeared. I had
a good laugh when it dawned on me that the No Problem B&B was actually the
local graveyard.
Continuing further up the island, I saw coconut, banana,
papaya and mango trees. Orville even grabbed a bunch of allspice as we passed
and handed it back to me. It was amazing
to see the first few aisles of my local Tesco growing leisurely by the
roadside. And there wasn’t a wonky trolley
in sight.
On the way back down from the rainforest, Orville stopped
the car and introduced me to Ugly Derek. UD, I was reliably informed, was a local man
who grows herbs and spices. He cut up various bits of nutmeg and cocoa for me to
taste and I bought some curry powder and jerk seasoning.
Feeling a bit peckish, Orville dropped me at the Jerk Hut
so that I could try the famous local dish and a cocktail (or two). He stayed in the van and had a kip
while I grabbed some food and a couple of Red Stripes. Still not up to eating much, I picked a plate
of various chicken bits. After closer
inspection, I discovered that the thing I thought was some kind of mutant wing
was actually a charred chicken foot.
Luckily, I was still too sick to have ventured that far round my
plate. Thank the lord for stomach
viruses.
 |
| I barely had the strength to lift it... |
It was while I was sitting avoiding consuming chicken
claws that it struck me. I had arrived on
the island, jumped into a taxi, driven up a hill in the middle of nowhere and
purchased two bags of herbs from a strange Jamaican man. It probably wasn’t a story I should relay at
customs. I’ve seen footage of young
women in Thai prison cells, swearing on their lives that the thought they were
just buying something to perk up their dinner.
I can see the headlines now…
On the off chance that Ugly Derek had sold me something
that wasn’t actually authentic Jamaican spices, that jerk chicken I was
planning to make when I get home will be a whole different dish.
Unfettered, and still clutching my herb mixtures, I then
paid a visit to Dunn’s River Falls. The
Falls is one of Jamaica’s biggest attractions and I joined a guided tour full
of people, holding hands in a kind of chain gang, making their way up the
waterfall. The water is pretty fast
flowing and I seemed to be the only person not wearing crocs. I might have broken my neck, but at least if
I died my family would be spared the additional grief when they received my
belongings and realised I had actually owned a pair. Talk
about tarnishing someone’s memory…
After getting a bit wet, but having fun scaling the
waterfall, Orville dropped me back at the boat, bade me farewell and hopefully,
went off to ‘party’. I snuck past
anyone that looked like they might want to inspect my purchases and ran back to
hide my stash in the safety of my cabin.
 |
| that'll do nicely... |
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