I was delighted when my husband and I received Betty’s invitation for a picnic lunch at the Sunset in the Palms Resort in Negril, Jamaica. The setting was lush, the food and wine enticing. Conversation, though, was a tad strained. Betty was there with her kids, and it was hard for her to attend to them and focus on her guests at the same time. She was also working hard to maintain the grounds. Betty is a very resilient goat—and one of Sunset’s favorite staff members.
Sunset is an airy, compact oasis in the middle of a jungle, wood-filled and woodsy, the abundant foliage making the transition from outside to inside seamless. It is so different from the many large, bustling, antiseptic resorts that line many Caribbean beaches. Here you’re a part of Jamaica, mon!
The beach is a short walk away. Spotting a red flag usually indicates a warning sign of some kind. Here, placed in front of your chaise lounge, it simply means, “Please bring me another pina colada.”
Tranquil was a word I heard a lot. Maybe because the all-inclusive resort is for adults only—except for Betty’s kids, of course, and they’re not likely to be running down the halls. And as appealing as reggae music is in the Caribbean, it is often ear-splitting along the beaches and the bars. Here, it is actually mellow.
The resort comes by its name honestly. All the rooms resemble palm-fringed treehouses. The hammock on our tree-topped balcony was just a bonus. One morning I was awakened by an unaccustomed sound, only to find Betty, husband Royal Brown, and kids bleating greetings below our balcony.
The resort is all about service, and they take pampering their guests to an extreme. A crossing guard ushers you across the street to the beach, for example. Admittedly, I felt like I was in grade school again and petulantly assured the poor guard that I had been crossing the street by myself for decades without mishap.
Like every all-inclusive, this one offers a number of restaurant options, but how often do you go to a restaurant with no menu in sight? Welcome to the Chef’s Showcase, where several nights a week a surprise five-course meal is served in a candlelit setting that sparkles with class and romance.
Just sitting at the bar is an island experience in itself. Locals instinctively move to the music as if they were on a dance floor. And not just any dance floor but one in the middle of a dance contest. And perhaps not without some embellishment. Everywhere on the island there is that unmistakable whiff of the ubiquitous substance for which the island is so famous. Possession of small amounts is now legal—but don’t tell hotel management, since they frown on such activity.
Overheard at a bar one afternoon, a local remarked that he'd be ready in three minutes. He then added, “That’s six minutes in Jamaican.” Welcome to island time, the precision timepiece upon which Jamaica runs.
Jamaica is famous for three things: Dunn’s River Falls in Ocho Rios, the aforementioned ganja, and Rick’s Cafe in Negril, where everyone at one time or another has to go to see the sunset. So go we did, despite the noise, the crowds, the commercialism, and a sunset like many others (OK, so it was a pretty nice sunset), for which the masses erupt in applause.
A much more authentic experience happened on our Rasta Tour, where we met with Fire. To do that, we had to first climb a mountain. No exaggeration. To say it was worth it is also not an exaggeration, not only for the views and the excellent all-natural meal prepared by Fire but mainly for his story.
Fire has been living away from civilization for 33 years in a lean-to that doesn’t even qualify as a hut. Long ago, he felt a need to get away from his mainstream life and learn how to survive—literally—in the 21st century. He grows what he needs to live, espouses a simple, less-stressful life living off Mother Earth, and adopts the Rasta approach of kindness and simplicity, eschewing financial gains.
When he shredded coconut on a grater, it sounded a lot like a reggae beat—which somehow seemed fitting. Life as a Rasta, Fire said, became much easier after Bob Marley. He lost me just a bit when he answered his smartphone, after which he acknowledged, with a smile, “There goes my reputation.” But technology is ubiquitous, even on top of a mountain.
A more typical outing was the trip to YS Falls and the Black River, one of the hotel tour options. YS Falls offers a multitude of ways to swing over, jump into, swim under, and play in a wide variety of waterfalls. And if none of that appeals, the falls alone provide sufficient photo ops.
