Ok it’s true, I never had a big desire to go to Jamaica. I had heard too many stories (actually looking back, only from one or two people) about being constantly harassed to buy things. So how did I find myself in Negril? Another friend’s happy memory of a super laid back place named the rockhouse hotel. Yes it really does look like that.
Off the girls and I went one cold February morning – flight was easy – westjet direct to Montego Bay. I had arranged a pick up through the hotel, easier than renting a car for the hour plus drive. Because once you’re there, you don’t need (or want) the car.
As far as rooms, all that was left was the standard room – note to self, book early next time. But no worries, the room was totally fine. One daughter and I shared a bed and the other a single bed.
Days were spent swimming from point to point (250 metres or so) in the warm crystal blue waters of the hotel’s calm bay. Jumping off the bridge ( 15 feet high and very scary for me) and sitting pool side drinking the “occasional” pina colada.
An easy taxi ride to Seven Mile Beach, Negril’s most well known beach. While it’s true the beach was filled with vendors and entertainers, whose eyes you didn’t want to catch unless you were prepare to pay. The water was clean, warm and we were left in peace.
An afternoon spent at Rick’s café, well known for the diving towers, that locals and tourists jump off. Count me out, but the girls jumped. An excellent jerk dinner at 3 Dives Restaurant, one of the best in Negril.
Ending the day back at The Rock House Hotel.