When we first started talking about where The February Trip would be this year (it’s a work thing that makes the missed dinners and travel worth it), Mr. CPQ told me that Jamaica was one of the available options. I’m pretty sure I wrinkled my nose and said something that may have sounded like “Anywhere but there, please”, which I know makes me sound like a spoiled princess, but it has nothing to do with my comfort and everything to do with tales from my brother’s honeymoon 25 years ago.
Mr. CPQ gently reminded me that things may have changed in 25 years, and besides, rumor had it a five-star resort with a butler and a pillow menu waited for me there.
Spoiled princess it is, mon.
We stayed at the Iberostar Rose Hall Grand and I can’t say enough about what a beautiful place it was. The rooms were gorgeous (the only exception being the mocking set of bathroom scales just to the side of the whirlpool tub), the views spectacular (the picture above is from the balcony in our room – thanks, Barrington, for the upgrade), and the staff among the most courteous I’ve met anywhere in the world.
The food was great. I was feeling adventuresome and tried some new things like curried goat (interesting), octopus salad (loved it- had seconds), fish and pineapple salad (hmmm), Jamaican beef patties (yes, please, and I bought some frozen at the warehouse club yesterday so I could have the islands with me), ackee and saltfish (which is a breakfast dish and quite possibly the first and last time I’ve had fish before 9 a.m.), and jerk chicken (come to mama).
I have deliberately avoided eating jerk chicken my entire adult life because I wanted my first taste of jerk to be authentic (Along those lines, I’ve not had a fish taco yet because I want to eat the first one in Southern California). We chose Scotchie’s for our jerk lunch because A) the bus driver recommended it; B) the hotel staff recommended it; and C) its lack of roof, doors, and sanitation rating sealed its authenticity.
We ordered two of everything and it was delivered to our table wrapped in aluminum foil.
We basically threw caution to the wind and ripped it open and ate with our fingers, until we discovered that scotch bonnet sauce probably shouldn’t be anywhere near our fingers that might inadvertently rub an eye.
One of my two bottles of water because of the aforementioned (and as you can see, heartily eaten) hot sauce.
Think I ate three of them.
And we were very happy.
(Me and my travel buddy for the last five years, Fran)
Have a nice day.
Tomorrow: Seeing ghosts and trespassing onto property belonging to people who may or may not be famous.