AMERICANWAY

man in the world, makes an appearance at Independence Park. Most of Jamaica looks more li ke a g reen ca r pet tha n a n urba n jungle, however, and I'm pleased that Tally has pointed us toward the Blue Mountains v ia an overnight v isit to Strawberr y Hill, the Chris Black well resor t that has been referred to as the one "that Bob and Bono built." Blackwell is the producer who signed Marley to a recording contract and is cred- ited with popularizing reggae music. He also represented U2, led by frontman Bono. Blackwell's eye for exceptional lodging mirrors his ear for superb musicianship. Half an hour from Kingston, Strawberry Hill is part Caribbean hanging garden and part Island Records Gold Record shrine. I'm ad- mittedly exhausted from dancing the night away, though Tally appears no worse for the whirling. I slide into the classic jungle bun- galow with its whitewashed walls, mosquito netting and palm-frond ceiling fan to doze away the afternoon. Tally, fueled by Blue Mountain co ee, wanders the gardens and hangs out by the infinity pool w ith some musicians on break from recording in one of Kingston's famous studios. Blackwell's Jamaican roots run as deep as those of the gumbo-limbo tree, referred to locally as the "Tourist Tree" because its fl aky red bark resembles the skin of north- ern tourists after submitting to the tropi- cal sun. Blackwell's mother, Blanche, hails from "The 21 Families" who once reigned over the island. A neighbor was James Bond novelist Ian Fleming, who became the love of Blanche's life. Like the best records, the narrative came full circle when Christopher Black well purchased Goldeneye from the Fleming estate. Settled on the veranda for dinner, I choose escov itch — snapper marinated in vinegar, onions and assorted spices, a delicacy that evokes the wonderful, tangy, zestful tastes typical of Jamaican cuisine. I'm working hard to stay mellow, but I'm challenged by the laissez-faire Jamaican ethos the next morning when it appears, to me at least, that the lackadaisical breakfast ser vice might force us to miss our rafting appointment across the mountains on the Rio Grande River. "Dad, you have to understand, very little is actually scheduled in Jamaica," Tally ex- plains as I anxiously check the time after he sends his breakfast back, the server hav- ing brought the wrong order. I suggest he share my fruit plate, but he's determined to eat ackee (a fruit) and saltfi sh, Jamaica's breakfast staple. Slowly, as our driver plays cassettes featuring his favorite selectors (the best DJs enjoy celebrity status in Jamaica), I acquiesce to the idea that our itinerary may change. I might actually learn to rela x on this vacation. My grandfather was such a stern vacation taskmaster, he would extract us from the queue of It's a Small World at Disney World after we had waited in line for an hour if his preprinted schedule declared it was time to line up for Splash Mountain. I admit I've been known to ride an itinerary raw as well, prompting my wife (Tally's stepmother) to inform me on a recent trip to Rome that I might just "destroy travel for our younger children" if I continued to run them ragged. Regardless, I've gone rafting all over the place, and every operation employs the same rule: If you miss the boat, well, you've missed the boat. But this is Jamaica, where we col- lect our captain along the roadside near the river 's delta and bring him to the launch- ing point, paying cash for the use of a raft of tethered bamboo. We board the raft, the captain poling behind, and begin our course down the Rio Grande. Again, I recognize the futility in tr ying to control the trip's fate against not only Tally but all of Jamaica. I also realize I have no time to keep except the measure of my son's company. Once out of sight of the ticket o ce, our captain swaps out the company issue for his personal raft, which has … cup holders? Few excursions put one in the Jamaican frame of mind like this lazy fl oat down the river known by the same name as the one on the U.S. southern border, the Rio Grande. We are gently poled by our certifi ed captain and complemented by a fl oating bar featuring Red Stripe, the famous Jamaican beer. We recline on the bamboo chaise built for two — a delightful raft luxury — as the river me- anders past mangrove forests, banana groves and rock formations. Halfway through the journey, we pause for a grilled-fish lunch on a river shoal, our chef having carried her stove and goods over the hill to create the makeshift café. According to legend, no less an adventurer than local resident Errol Flynn converted these rafts from cargo transports to vessels of leisure, the better to entertain his many fe- male visitors. The two-and-a-half-hour tour concludes at the Rio Grande delta w ithin I RECOGNIZE THE FUTILITY IN TRYING TO CONTROL THE TRIP'S FATE AGAINST NOT ONLY TALLY BUT ALL OF JAMAICA. I ALSO REALIZE I HAVE NO TIME TO KEEP EXCEPT THE MEASURE OF MY SON'S COMPANY. JAMAICA 8 0 N OV E M B E R 2 01 4 A A .CO M/A M E R I C A NWAY

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