Jamaica: A Tale of Four Visits, Part I

In all the years I’ve authored this blog, I’ve never written posts about our trips to Jamaica, because if I were to, they would all pretty much read the same. We stay at Couples Swept Away in Negril and:

• eat great food
• drink fancy cocktails 🍸
• read, lounge, and take long walks on the beach
• swim in pools and the ocean
• partake of hot tubs and massages
• snorkle, scuba dive, SUP, and sail
• banter with the Jamaican staff—quite possibly the friendliest and most fun-loving people on earth

Admittedly, these are not particularly adventurous or culturally deep trips. We go there for a reliably fun, relaxing, invigorating, and indulgent getaway.

In other words, blissful to experience, but a real snooze in print.

But then I realized that each visit has its own unique tale and, having just returned from the island for the fourth time (as an adult, after two forays as a youngster) I thought I’d regale you with them here. Grab a rum punch and settle into your imaginary beach lounger.

Tree-lined beach and no high-rise buildings – two things we love about this place.

TV-free, tropical Atrium rooms – another thing we love about this place.

Visit: 1

Reason: 10th wedding anniversary

Trip Nickname: Our First “Missed” Christmas

The school year calendar prevented us from traveling over our actual anniversary, so we went at the soonest possible opportunity: Christmas break. Though we had a hellish time getting to the island, once we finally arrived we got down to business taking advantage of everything our tropical home had to offer. One of those amenities was a free resort dive. The husband—Water Pokémon and son of a Royal Navy rescue diver—passed the swim test with ease and was eager to get submerged. But I—Earth Pokémon and old-lady-style paddler—couldn’t pass the swim test. Ergo, no diving.

To really drive home the point, they painted it on concrete.

My wife’s an embarrassment, but whatever. Let’s dive!

Read more: When Bad Things Happen to Good Travelers, Episode 1: The Layover of a Lifetime

The husband did one additional dive on this trip to get PADI certified (a third attempt was aborted due to inner ear issues). As for me, my poor swimming skills and lack of comfort in the water meant that deep down I was kind of relieved I didn’t have to SCUBA, but paradoxically, I was also disappointed to have missed the experience. Despite this, we had such an outstanding time on the trip that, on the plane ride home, not only did I vow aloud that we would return the following Christmas, I also decreed that the husband must teach me to swim properly in the intervening twelve months so that I could finally join him on the sea floor breathing canned air. Time would tell if either of us had the skills to pull it off . . .

Visit: 2

Reason: See above

Trip Nickname: War & Peace (& War & Peace & . . . )

In one of my proudest accomplishments, I did learn to swim properly in the year between trips. The husband and I don’t have a great track record when we engage in instructor/pupil pursuits, particularly when he’s the instructor and I’m the pupil. Arguments rise to the surface like nitrogen bubbles in a diver with the bends. But this time, the stakes were plain and time was limited, so we adjusted our attitudes and made it work.  After mastering my freestyle, all that was left was to open my eyes underwater. Simple, right? Not so fast. I’m supremely eyeball squeamish, so it took me many more months before I could finally work up the nerve to do it. I disliked the sensation intensely, but I didn’t go blind, so I guess it can be called a success.

The dive boat. Photo by fellow resort guest and diver, Liz Hart.

Bilateral breathing and eyeball opening accomplished, we made for Jamaica where everything was as it had been the year before . . . except for one thing.

The husband’s PADI certification meant unlimited free diving, and this meant that the husband donned his neoprene and disappeared every morning for hours on end. I felt abandoned and neglected, which led to him feeling pressured and resentful.

Classic.

It was the age-old tale of differing and unmet expectations. Bickering ensued. Lots of it. Just what you want on a romantic vacation.

Eventually we came to a truce, and on future visits, knowing how rarely the husband gets a chance to dive, I would know to moderate my “us time” expectations and embrace the freedom of my extra “me time.” For his part, he would be more sensitive to my needs once back on dry land. These attitudinal calibrations alone have made all the difference.

Just following directions

And in case you’re wondering, I did pass the swim test and do a dive. For this Earth Pokémon, it was a lot like going to Las Vegas: glad I did it . . . don’t need to do it again.