The drive-thru service was impeccable. These fine young men were all too eager to sell us their latest catch of the day, complete with a mystery sauce from a coke bottle (Once again, you'll notice his "Digicel" T-shirt-- EVERYBODY has one, except me). Although I was always taught to never buy food from local street vendors in third-world countries, I couldn't resist doing it just this once.
We had to make sure to try all the different flavors (check out the SpongeBob T).
Lambi in hand, it was time to hit the road. Although we were lucky enough to make the trek in an air-conditioned SUV, you could find the rest of the world travelling any way they could--mostly piled into the back of rustic trucks like this one.
We made good time and arrived in Jacmel late in the afternoon.
If I had to paint the picture for you in a few select words (or maybe several), here's what I'd say: Quaint, authentic, rustic, real, relaxed, "100% security," totally Haitian, lush, colorful, warm breezes, ocean air, lively people, ripe smells, completely ineffecient, purely untouched, where poverty meets paradise. That, my friends, is one heck of a combination.Here we are coming in on the main drag.
This road, skirting the entire length of the city, is about the only paved one you'll find.
Jacmel is a city of motorcycles. It is the most common, and frankly the easiest form of transportation. Instead of hailing a taxi, you flag down motorcyclists.
On average, you'll find two to three people to one motorcycle. But a couple of times I did catch four guys crammed on to one bike--definately a delicate balancing act that these natives seem to have mastered.
Two weeks in advance we made reservations at a hotel recommended to us by Alex, our native "Jacmelien."
We had confirmed our reservations twice with the management, but when we arrived here to check in, our rooms had mysteriously been taken by somebody else. We were a little confused by this. The manager then proceeded to explain, quite matter of factly, that the receptionist (who had been dealing with us over the phone) didn't know how to write. Hmmm. Isn't that kind of a prerequisite for the main desk?
So after checking out what we would be missing, we began the great hotel hunt. Since it was Easter Break, this wasn't an easy task. Most every place was booked solid. But alas, we found two free rooms for one night at this little bit of paradise below.
As soon as I found my room, I dropped my bags and took off to explore my environs. I walked down some stairs in the back and was welcomed by a lush, panoramic view of the coast.
I also met up with some new friends. Now don't ask me why, but this girl insisted on taking a picture with me, "gangster" style. Really, I didn't get it. But I played along.
Being from Oakland, (or "Baja Piedmont"), I didn't feel too out of character.
After standing on my balcony watching every last drop of sun go down, I joined "the fam" for a relaxed evening outside eating fresh seafood and listening to a local band play a lively mixture of French oldies and Haitian folk. But quite honestly, I couldn't wait to get back to my room, sit on my balcony, and stare out at the water. The view from my room was one in a million. I opened up the sliding glass door, left the curtains wide open, and thoroughly enjoyed falling asleep to the sounds of waves on the ocean.
Waking up to this view was really not so bad. I took off for a morning run and then lived it up at the breakfast buffet (one of my favorite past-times---the eggs were the best I've ever eaten).
This road, skirting the entire length of the city, is about the only paved one you'll find.
Jacmel is a city of motorcycles. It is the most common, and frankly the easiest form of transportation. Instead of hailing a taxi, you flag down motorcyclists.
On average, you'll find two to three people to one motorcycle. But a couple of times I did catch four guys crammed on to one bike--definately a delicate balancing act that these natives seem to have mastered.
Two weeks in advance we made reservations at a hotel recommended to us by Alex, our native "Jacmelien."
We had confirmed our reservations twice with the management, but when we arrived here to check in, our rooms had mysteriously been taken by somebody else. We were a little confused by this. The manager then proceeded to explain, quite matter of factly, that the receptionist (who had been dealing with us over the phone) didn't know how to write. Hmmm. Isn't that kind of a prerequisite for the main desk?
So after checking out what we would be missing, we began the great hotel hunt. Since it was Easter Break, this wasn't an easy task. Most every place was booked solid. But alas, we found two free rooms for one night at this little bit of paradise below.
As soon as I found my room, I dropped my bags and took off to explore my environs. I walked down some stairs in the back and was welcomed by a lush, panoramic view of the coast.
I also met up with some new friends. Now don't ask me why, but this girl insisted on taking a picture with me, "gangster" style. Really, I didn't get it. But I played along.
Being from Oakland, (or "Baja Piedmont"), I didn't feel too out of character.
After standing on my balcony watching every last drop of sun go down, I joined "the fam" for a relaxed evening outside eating fresh seafood and listening to a local band play a lively mixture of French oldies and Haitian folk. But quite honestly, I couldn't wait to get back to my room, sit on my balcony, and stare out at the water. The view from my room was one in a million. I opened up the sliding glass door, left the curtains wide open, and thoroughly enjoyed falling asleep to the sounds of waves on the ocean.
Waking up to this view was really not so bad. I took off for a morning run and then lived it up at the breakfast buffet (one of my favorite past-times---the eggs were the best I've ever eaten).Some day, when I'm rich from my high-paying job in the world of non-profit development work, I'll be back--for a slightly more extended stay this time.
