We Jammin’

The trip to Jamaica was eventful for it’s uneventfullness. We stayed at a hotel in Altrincham as it was near the airport and offered free car parking for the duration with a taxi ride to the airport in the morning. Our taxi driver was a great chap, pointing out all the footballers’ houses (he wouldn’t stop to let me urinate in Roy Keene’s letterbox) and making sure we knew the best way to get picked up when we returned. The trick, folks, is to get your taxi at T2 departures, not arrivals. It saves the taxi paying a parking charge that they’ll pass on to you, and it’s also far less busy.

The flight was fine with decent grub (airline food doesn’t deserve the bad reputation it’s gained) and the kids were amazing. Little Miss was a bit tearful, but she doesn’t like travel (at all – anything further than Nana’s is “abroad” in her eyes); Little Mister was incredible given the 10 hour flight duration; and Littler Miss was staggering. She barely slept and probably cried for something approaching 14 seconds during the entire journey.

If there was a downside, it was the Scouse couple behind Gillian who caused her to pass Littler Miss over to my folks (on the opposite bulkhead) a couple of times as it seemed they were going to come to blows. The “gentleman” of the couple was on a path to a hiding from both of us with his behaviour towards his wife, but in all honesty she wasn’t helping. Huge credit must go to the flight staff who calmed them down as best they could otherwise I’m sure someone within the surrounding few rows would have laid the wanker out, if for no other reason than to stop him yelling obscenities with children around.

The transfer at Montego Bay was pretty smooth with minimal immigration worries. The staff at the counters chatted to each other and with us, and the lady going through our stack of passports went from “why haven’t you signed this” officialness to “Oh my, she’s gorgeous!” as soon as it came to checking Littler Miss’s details.

A one-hour bus ride to our resort in Runaway Bay followed with good company from the driver and other staff, which of course required a tip. A point of note is that Jamaica is very much a “tipping” culture – the monetary sort, not the drunk mid-Western United States bovine-bothering college student type. Having saif that, they’re quite fair but we felt bad tipping in UK coinage as all of our travel money was still packed.

Our resort seems lovely though I’ve only seen it in the dark. We’re at the Royal Club Decameron on Runaway Bay. Due to the 6-hour time difference, it’s night on 3am as I write this having just sampled some rather excellent Mexican Rice and refried beans from the restaurant. That’s “real world” time. Here in “holiday world” it’s not even 9pm. The room is “functional” as we’ve opted for little wooden cottages. There is aircon, a fan, nice TV and comfy bedding. We’ll have to adapt how we bathe Littler Miss and it’s not The Ritz but it is lovely and about 30m from the beach.

My one quibble is that internet access is an additional extra so I’m not sure when I’ll get posts and photos up, but will do my best especially next Monday when we get married!

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