After getting dropped off and shown our rooms, the first thing Amy and I did was make our way for the beach. The cerulean waves lick the white sands with the gentle white shushing of water rolling onto beach, creating the sort of beautiful scene one only experiences while watching a Corona commercial. In short, the water was pretty sexy.
And unlike my first experience with the black, freezing Pacific Ocean earlier this year, the Caribbean Sea was crystal clear and warm like bathwater that’s been sitting and cooling off for an hour. Swimmable water means awesome water activities, and luckily for us the resort offered a bunch of great stuff to do out in the Great Wet Abyss for no extra charge.
The tamest of these ventures was our glass bottom boat tour. Escorted by an extremely knowledgeable Jamaican teen, we glazed over coral reefs, schools of varying fish, and even an old crashed catamaran. In general it was a rather sedate experience, except that on the trip back along the coast we passed some of the other resorts. This is worth mentioning because one of those resorts was Hedonism II, a nude resort. As we cruised by honking our horn and chortling like fifth graders hearing the word “penis” in Sex Ed for the first time, scattered old men stood up to flash us their junk. It was almost enough to make us not eat our free delicious lunch. But just almost; it was a free delicious lunch, after all.
Later in the same day we got a little more personal with the fishes via a snorkeling escapade that ended with mediocre results. Other than a brush with a school of black-and-yellow fish that swam right through me en route to whatever aquatic destination they were heading for, the most we saw was fancy rocks and plants. I was hoping for Spongebob Squarepants, The Little Mermaid, Finding Nemo, or at least some sharks or stingrays, but to no avail. Just those black-and-yellow fish and a mouth full of saltwater.
One of our earlier aquatic expeditions took us quite a ways away from the resort via catamaran (complete with waterslide and bar) to some sweet Jamaican caves and around some of the most frequented locations for cliff diving. Despite enjoying the cruise very much, Amy and I refrained from participating in either of these activities because even though we loved Jamaica, neither one of us wanted to die there.
The caves, for example, were inhabited a crazy old woman who threw rocks at a large number of our party who braved the stony, watery crevices. I’m not even joking about this. Also, watching the local adolescents back-flip off of seventy foot cliffs didn’t inspire much confidence in us to try that, either. Maybe we’re lame, or maybe we just really understand the concept of risk/reward. Whatever the answer, the whole thing was, at the very least, fun to watch.
I did give the boat’s waterslide the ol’ college try, and even though it was nothing compared to Cedar Point’s Millennium Force, it was the best the catamaran had to offer. Also, the cruise ended right at sunset, so we were out on the water watching the giant orange sun float back behind the horizon as we headed back for port. It was a charming little excursion.
All of this is gumdrops and tricycles compared to parasailing, however. Those who know me well understand my desire to experience flight (and not the American Airlines type of flight—the Superman kind), and this was as close as I’ll probably ever get to that.
Basically, Amy and I were strapped together onto a gigantic parachute, and then the boat we were attached to started driving very fast, lifting us up into the wild blue yonder. Feet dangling 400 feet above the water, we floated and cruised with a bird’s eye view of the western side of the island. If Amy hadn’t been white-knuckled from gripping her harness in anxiety, I would’ve enjoyed it a little more, but even she was glad we did it and admitted to having a nice time.
Moses, the giant Jamaican man who assisted us in this endeavor, was more than happy to take our money, but also genuinely seemed to wish us a good time and a great vacation. Like I said, Jamaican people are awesome.
The water was pretty friendly, too. We could’ve done water skiing, scuba, or kayaking, but most of those exercises would’ve probably caused either welts and bruises or psychological distress, so we passed. Okay, so we’re not exactly Jacque Cousteau, but we definitely enjoyed our time with the water while we had it.
Plus, I really, really suck at water skiing.