The ocean eats the cliffs of Negril this morning. I jumped off the lowest of cliffs into the salty, but have seen no dolphins yet. I dream of dolphin kissing dolphins here in Jamaica. We ate ital soup on the side of the road yesterday after Ja Round picked us up at the airport. The ital food is the clean natural diet of the rasta, maybe from Africa. In a country ravenged by Nestle and Nabisco, this is a welcome connection to soul. There are so many goats running around the place, I ate goat curry last night, and our fine chief Juliette will hunt for the sea puss for us on special occasion.
There is little industry besides tourism and men are forced to make their livings supporting the whimsys of white tourists. I say this because at the airport the lines at customs was filed wall to wall with white skins.
With all of this said, delight in the bohemian charm of Banana Shout, a real vacation, staycations are out
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