Can you tell I have a total fascination with public transport in this country?
We drove a few miles down the road, past scenic landscapes of lush foliage
until we arrived at....."The Jaclef Plaza Hotel." Do not be fooled by the somewhat impressive name or outside facade.
We joked that the rooms felt more like prison....stuffy, dark, completely non-functional, cramped, and with no air circulation or ventilation. But at least I could appreciate the decor.
And believe you me, this picture does not do it justice. I grabbed my pen and paper to jot down style notes--(interior design is my hobby after all). But don't get me wrong, I was grateful to have a place to rest my head. But who comes to Jacmel to stay inside??? It was time to head for the water.
En route, you could find large crowds of colorful folk, dressed in bright clothing, dancing, singing, playing musical instraments, and generally engaging in a moving street party.
This was only one of many "RaRa's" we would witness that weekend. RaRa--named after the cheer (think of people cheering, "ra! ra!"). After Carnival in February, people just can't accept that the fun and games are really over for another year. So every consecutive weekend afterwards (ending this Sunday), people congregate into different clubs and essentially form moving processions of merriment--that carry on for miles, into the wee hours of the morning. What a concept. 
The men with the rainbow swirly skirts were a hit.
Is that a Confederate flag I see flying? You could spot flags of nearly every genre--pirate flags, peace flags, gay-rights flags,--it didn't really matter as long as it was something pretty to waive around.But it was not our intention to join the local RaRa movement. It was time to sink our toes into the sand, soak up the sun's rays, and swim in ocean waters warmer than I have ever known. "Temoyage" was its name, and I have yet to find a beach that compares (Mozambique, the only exception).
Proving that white really is the new black--the camera has caught me combing the sands in search for the perfect spot to absorb the sun's most direct rays (the goal being to promote the quickest, most efficient tanning).
But the fun and games were just beginning. It was time to get a lesson from the locals in efficient coconut-handling practices. "The Jacmelien" (Alex) loaded our trunk full of coconuts from his house and brought them to the beach with us. Completely amused by this new art form I was witnessing, I took careful note and studied under the master before attempting to take a crack at it myself.
I wasn't quite as skilled with the long, hatchet-knife device as I thought I would be.
My pathetic attempt was short-lived, quite messy, and generally unproductive. My technique could best be described as "stab, whack, and hope for the best."
But in the end, the prize was so sweet.
Below, Sany demonstrates what to do next. Sip and enjoy one of nature's best kept secrets.
I wish I could say I hacked this one to perfection, but I didn't. I can say that I enjoyed every last swallow. After binging on coconut milk, our local friend Ketty informed me that the stuff works as a natural laxative of sorts. I was grateful to acquire this information, after the fact.
While the kids played in the sand, I enjoyed people-watching. I'm killing myself for not buying a hat from this great, local character below. My practical side took over and convinced myself that I wouldn't get much use out of it in real life. But honestly, I don't see why I wouldn't.
So when another local crowd-pleaser stopped on by selling these one-of-a kind "Jacmel" T's, I jumped on the opportunity to add another T-shirt to my wardrobe. I know you're supposed to barder with these people, and I've had great success doing so in the past, but honestly, this lady was too convincing. Even though she spoke Creole and I didn't really get a word she was saying, I still felt guilty for trying to lower the price. I paid in full, (probably five times what I should have) and considered it my contribution to the country's fragile economy (at least telling myself that made me feel better for being a total push-over and a full-fledged sucker).
Meanwhile, back at camp, the restaurant/bar/hut below was busily preparing our freshly-caught sea food. Or at least we thought it was. 
We placed our order at 1:30pm and got our food 4:30pm. That officially tops my list for slowest service ever experienced. Three hours? Maybe that included going out to catch the lobster itself.
I think I remember why I never order lobster when I go out to eat. You have to really work for your food. All the banging, cracking, and trying to tear away at the hard outter shell is far too time consuming and labor intensive for someone who just wants to shovel it in.
Meanwhile, down the street, another RaRa brigade was quickly approaching.
They then turned off the road and started coming closer to our little beach-side picnic table.
They came closer and closer--banging on drums and blowing on exotic, hand-made instruments.
At first I thought it was really cool that they liked us so much. But then when they lingered and began dancing a little too close to my personal sphere of comfort, the coolness wore off a bit. Namely, they had their eyes on this chair -- upon which rested my big, black, money-filled bag. So I decided I had better make another contribution to the struggling economy--and fast. That, and this group kind of scared me--I felt a little outnumbered by the men in rainbow skirts.
So I decided it was time to take off and do a little exploring. "The Jacmelien" took us on a guided walk up and down the shoreline.
What can I say. I was in my element.
Small houses and bungalows dotted the pathway. And I've decided that this is definatley real-estate I will purchase some day.
Proving that white really is the new black--the camera has caught me combing the sands in search for the perfect spot to absorb the sun's most direct rays (the goal being to promote the quickest, most efficient tanning).
But the fun and games were just beginning. It was time to get a lesson from the locals in efficient coconut-handling practices. "The Jacmelien" (Alex) loaded our trunk full of coconuts from his house and brought them to the beach with us. Completely amused by this new art form I was witnessing, I took careful note and studied under the master before attempting to take a crack at it myself.
I wasn't quite as skilled with the long, hatchet-knife device as I thought I would be.
My pathetic attempt was short-lived, quite messy, and generally unproductive. My technique could best be described as "stab, whack, and hope for the best."
But in the end, the prize was so sweet.
Below, Sany demonstrates what to do next. Sip and enjoy one of nature's best kept secrets.
I wish I could say I hacked this one to perfection, but I didn't. I can say that I enjoyed every last swallow. After binging on coconut milk, our local friend Ketty informed me that the stuff works as a natural laxative of sorts. I was grateful to acquire this information, after the fact.
While the kids played in the sand, I enjoyed people-watching. I'm killing myself for not buying a hat from this great, local character below. My practical side took over and convinced myself that I wouldn't get much use out of it in real life. But honestly, I don't see why I wouldn't.
So when another local crowd-pleaser stopped on by selling these one-of-a kind "Jacmel" T's, I jumped on the opportunity to add another T-shirt to my wardrobe. I know you're supposed to barder with these people, and I've had great success doing so in the past, but honestly, this lady was too convincing. Even though she spoke Creole and I didn't really get a word she was saying, I still felt guilty for trying to lower the price. I paid in full, (probably five times what I should have) and considered it my contribution to the country's fragile economy (at least telling myself that made me feel better for being a total push-over and a full-fledged sucker).
Meanwhile, back at camp, the restaurant/bar/hut below was busily preparing our freshly-caught sea food. Or at least we thought it was. 
We placed our order at 1:30pm and got our food 4:30pm. That officially tops my list for slowest service ever experienced. Three hours? Maybe that included going out to catch the lobster itself.
I think I remember why I never order lobster when I go out to eat. You have to really work for your food. All the banging, cracking, and trying to tear away at the hard outter shell is far too time consuming and labor intensive for someone who just wants to shovel it in.
Meanwhile, down the street, another RaRa brigade was quickly approaching.
They then turned off the road and started coming closer to our little beach-side picnic table.
They came closer and closer--banging on drums and blowing on exotic, hand-made instruments.
At first I thought it was really cool that they liked us so much. But then when they lingered and began dancing a little too close to my personal sphere of comfort, the coolness wore off a bit. Namely, they had their eyes on this chair -- upon which rested my big, black, money-filled bag. So I decided I had better make another contribution to the struggling economy--and fast. That, and this group kind of scared me--I felt a little outnumbered by the men in rainbow skirts.So I decided it was time to take off and do a little exploring. "The Jacmelien" took us on a guided walk up and down the shoreline.
What can I say. I was in my element.
Small houses and bungalows dotted the pathway. And I've decided that this is definatley real-estate I will purchase some day.This one was nice, but a little too high maintenance for my liking. 
I think I'm more of a hut person.
Especially the kind with no front door. That way, you could always look out at the view and have people come and go as they please.
Some more of my favorites. This one was just missing out on a few windchimes, plastic gnomes, and pink flamingos in the yard.
But my pick of the day was this little piece of architectural beauty. I could see myself calling it home one day.
Since by this time the tide was pretty far in, we decided to head back to base camp via the road. We followed it back to our car just as the sun was going down. I stared jealously at local passerbyers who called this place their home.
Isn't if funny how a whole day can so easily slip away when all you've really done is stare out at and flirt with a big pool of salty sea-water? But really, I think we all need a little more time to breathe, play, and be consumed by warm ocean waves instead of the hustle-and-bustle of everyday life. It's good, once in a while, to just to feel like a kid again.
I think I'm more of a hut person.
Especially the kind with no front door. That way, you could always look out at the view and have people come and go as they please.
Some more of my favorites. This one was just missing out on a few windchimes, plastic gnomes, and pink flamingos in the yard.
But my pick of the day was this little piece of architectural beauty. I could see myself calling it home one day.
Since by this time the tide was pretty far in, we decided to head back to base camp via the road. We followed it back to our car just as the sun was going down. I stared jealously at local passerbyers who called this place their home.
Isn't if funny how a whole day can so easily slip away when all you've really done is stare out at and flirt with a big pool of salty sea-water? But really, I think we all need a little more time to breathe, play, and be consumed by warm ocean waves instead of the hustle-and-bustle of everyday life. It's good, once in a while, to just to feel like a kid again.
