Birthday in Jamaica

It’s taken me a stupid amount of time to write what I figure is going to be a quick and dirty recap of my 2015 international trip. I kept going back and forth about whether I should delve into my thoughts on all-inclusive resorts and whether to discuss the uneasy sense of privilege that followed me around Jamaica. In the end, I decided not to. It’s definitely the sort of thing I want to discuss, but I guess I’m still grappling with my thoughts on the matter. So I won’t bore you with them…yet.

Our resort

I decided on a trip to Jamaica based on a few criteria. 2015 was sandwiched between two very expensive trip years (Peru and Ecuador in 2014, and Tanzania on the horizon for 2016). I needed an affordable 2015. I’ve already been to Mexico and Canada, so they weren’t options. I considered Belize and a host of Caribbean islands, but in the end Jamaica won because it was the cheapest. Sorry, Jamaica, it’s not  an insult. I genuinely appreciate how easy you were on my bank account. I was able to find a great deal on an all-inclusive resort for my birthday, and two of my best friends were joining me and my boyfriend, which made what I worried would seem like a generic or impersonal trip feel much more special. And did I mention some fool was giving me all I could eat and drink?

We left a cold and rainy Austin on the last day of November and headed into uncertain weather. Well, the reports were all certain it was going to rain in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, the whole time we were there, but I refused to accept rain on my Caribbean birthday vacation. It just wasn’t going to happen. Off we went, Christina and Matt with sensible coffee (it was a morning flight), Andrew keeping tabs on the obnoxious birthday girl, who was already trying to exploit “birthday week” with wine on the plane. (I thought it would be free because we were on an international flight. I was wrong.)

It was an easy flight into Montego Bay and then a long shuttle ride to Ocho Rios, where our resort was. Always a good sport, Andrew took the shit seat. After about two hours, we arrived at the resort (Riu Ocho Rios), checked in, and headed to the buffet just in time for the early bird dinner. But to tell the truth, it wouldn’t have mattered what time it was; at an all-inclusive, everyone just eats all day long.


After dinner, we all grabbed a drink (but not the wine from the “barrel” in the dining hall—don’t do it) and headed to the beach. The sun was setting and it was starting to get dark, but we wanted to be by the water. As soon as we hit the sand, a guy appeared out of the sea, silently and magically standing in front of us where one second before there was just air. He went straight for Matt. “Hey, welcome to Jamaica, do you want [digging inside his swim trunks] some ganja [pulls his hand out of his crotch holding a bag of weed]?”

Rasta beard

I should mention that weed has recently been decriminalized in Jamaica. Yep, believe it or not, it used to be illegal. However, according to my research, the police tended to only enforce the law on locals; tourists were free to do as they liked. Fairly and justly, locals can now buy, sell, and smoke in peace as well. I should also mention that Matt has a giant, unruly beard that, based on our experience, translates to “Hi, friend! I want to be rasta! Please come talk to me!” in Jamaica. Every time our group was approached by dealers, they always went to Matt and chatted about his beard while offering him their goods. Women also approached him a lot and asked if they could braid his beard for him.

Dance party!

Anyway, we resumed our stroll along the water, watching the sky darken and the stars come up. We took a break on some beach chairs to listen to the waves and name the stars we knew, and then, with no warning, a dance party broke out just a few yards away. We were a little confused, so naturally we headed to the nearest bar, which happened to be directly above the patch of beach where the dance party erupted. It gave us a great view of the action, which was a variation of what we would see throughout our trip: resort employees leading the “nightly activity” for drunk or awkward (or both) tourists. It reminded me so much of Dirty Dancing.

In addition to the beach party on Monday night, we were treated to karaoke on Tuesday (Andrew and I ROCKED OUT to “Enter Sandman”), a song-and-dance history of Jamaica on Wednesday night, and a reggae band that also did cover songs to which we are all forced to dance on Thursday. No lie, the whole arrangement was weird. But the drinks remained free, so it wasn’t too weird.

Jerk Hut

Our days were exactly what you would imagine: sleeping in, eating plates and plates of carbs at the breakfast buffet (that was mostly me; Andrew, Christina, and Matt managed to not eat like animals somehow), and hanging out at the beach. (By the way, the weather reports were wrong, and I was right. It didn’t rain at all; it was sunny and perfect the whole time we were there.) One day we chilled in the resort pool with the swim-up bar, but mostly we stuck to the beach. They made jerk chicken in a hut on the beach every day for lunch, but they also had a lunch buffet.

Matt and me sailing in the Caribbean

On Tuesday, Matt and I paid $20 for a sailing “lesson” on a catamaran provided by the resort, and then we were able to use the boats for free the rest of the trip, so we took Christina and Andrew out another day (they didn’t take the lesson and had to supervised by the pros). On Wednesday, we took a shopping excursion into town to see the local artisan market (don’t do it; it’s a bunch of magnets and purses that were probably made in China), but other than that, we just relaxed on the beach, ate a bunch of food, drank a bunch of drinks, and enjoyed being lazy and coddled by the resort.



We left on Friday morning after one more fill up at the breakfast buffet and said goodbye to a beautiful island that we only got to see on the shuttle ride to and from the airport. The trip was everything I expected, but I didn’t experience the culture of Jamaica. That’s the nature of the all-inclusive beast, I guess.