H & J - March, 2014
WORST. DIF. EVER.
Admittedly that's a strange title for an eight-day week so awesome it
qualified for my first report after three trips to Hedo. Now, we all
realize it's common to catch a case of Dreaded Island Fever before going
to the resort or after departure, but this was the first time it ever
walloped me while I was STILL THERE.
It was about 3 am the morning of our last full day while in our room
that it came, in stealth like a drooling monster in the darkness, and
attacked with full force. The glum realization that there was only one
more day of rapturous bliss in paradise before the inevitable return to
the stark contrast of regular life...with the hiding behind clothes, the
barrage of news, world events, phones, computers, financial
considerations, traffic, work schedules separating me from my gorgeous
hot sexy wife, and the stresses they all produce...assaulted me like a
relentless tidal wave. The DIF was of an intensity I hadn't experienced
before and wasn't prepared for at 3 am. I was only able to regain
composure after forcing myself into present-moment awareness and a
subborn refusal to waste oven one minute of my final day in Nirvana
dreading my imminent departure. Here I was still in Jamaica, the frogs
were still singing, every little t'ing gonna be all right. So what made
this trip so excellent as to bring about such violent and premature DIF?
In a word, everything. I hardly know where to begin or
end. For starters, the weather was unbelievably perfect all day, every
day. Thanks to Jah for that. The occupancy was also ideal--enough
revelers to bring the famous Hedo energy and throbbing vibe, but not so
many that the tables for dinner got scarfed up at 7:00 in the morning by
groups taking over. Our room (2277--easy to remember in any mental
state) was in an absolutely choice location, 2nd floor right by the
stairs, just four units away from the jacuzzi with a fantastic view of
the beach, trees, Delroy's and the nude pool. Miraculously, two
different technicians were instantly responsive and available to fix
both the safe and the window on Day 1, meaning we could slide open the
window and totally enjoy the pool party and music while enjoying each
other on the couch. I mean, come on!
Speaking of hotness and the jacuzzi, it did feel like it was rapidly
turning us into a couple of boiled chickens when we got in. So we had to
sit on the edges, but it certainly didn't deter all the other boiled
chickens--I mean partiers. I had the opportunity to clink glasses of
Crown Royal on the rocks with new chairman Harry Williams, who was very
cordial and excited about the improvements he's overseeing at the
resort. He mentioned the bacterial "danger zone" between 90 and 100
degrees--so the cool pools are below and the hot tub above those levels.
He also explained that he wanted to make an immediate impact when he
bought in, so he greatly increased the expenditure on food and
doubled the liquor bill. For example, he likes Grey Goose, so he
decided to stock that premium French vodka, setting Hedo apart from many
other all-inclusives and hotels. He added a further bit of good news for
us all that I'm glad to share--he intends to make Hedo a "family affair"
(relax, now) in the wholesome sense of his daughter, now 25, hopefully
taking over in the future when he eventually retires. Meaning no worries
about anyone grabbing the reins and making it into something alien to us
all. It was also very nice meeting his charming Japanese wife, who I
believe is called Yoko and who wore a perpetual sweet smile despite
having undergone three root canal procedures just prior to their trip.
Wow, what a trooper! They make a warm, successful couple whose affection
is inspiring.
So many of the things we sometimes see complaints about on the site were
just no problem, mon. The showers and side jets worked perfectly,
with plenty of hot water on demand. The food was ridiculous every single
day. I deliberately booked Friday to Saturday to incorporate two lobster
nights, and they were off the fricken chain. I inhaled an inhuman amount
of the largest, most succulent grilled crustacean I'd ever
tasted. My wife being a vegetarian, I did my duty to consume her share
as well. I hadn't had any lobster in years despite living in Florida, so
I had some catching up to do. Three nights we ate at Mario's, which was
comparable in atmosphere, service and food quality to any four-star
gourmet restaurant where I've had the pleasure to dine. Denva the maîre
d' was very accommodating when we popped in on short notice without a
reservation (no problem, mon!) and Cyrine was most gracious, reminding
us that each dish she brought was "prepared and served with love". I had
absolutely the freshest, most scrumptious shrimp I'd ever savored, which
is significant since I am personally responsible for depleting the
shrimp population of the planet's oceans. Words do not exist to describe
the freshness, which is everything when it comes to seafood. Pasta was
al dente and vegetables were sublimely NOT overcooked (both rare treats
in the US), portions were ideal to allow enjoyment of all six courses
(!), and the desserts were transcendent. One night we dined at the
hibachi with new friends at Harry San, and our chef entertained us with
the expected manual dexterity and cooking expertise--and an unexpected
repertoire of song. He never once stopped singing and smiling. If you've
had him you know who I mean, he's the only singing chef. Forming the
fried rice into the shape of a giant set of male genitalia amused and
delighted us all while we dined, as one might assume. The rest of the
nights we were stoked to stoke up at the buffet, which was nothing short
of massively better than our last trip eight years ago in terms of
variety, preparation, flavor, food combinations and freshness. Maybe the
melon and pineapple could have been more ripe, so that can be the tiny
dot of yin in a wonderful sea of edible yang. The pastries were
delectable, and my wife and I each gained ten pounds. Crazy? Hell yes,
but worth it.
The entertainment was really excellent, too. Winston brought the house
down on our first night with a drag performance to equal anything we'd
seen in recent memory, complete with a finale of tearing off the wig and
boobs, pounding the floor in an over-the-top, massively dramatic
commitment to the song's message. The luscioius lady Diana did a
smoldering rendition of Christina Aguilera's Nasty Naughty Boy
involving a kiddie pool filled with milk, slowly drizzling mouthfuls
over her heavenly, beautiful brown, nearly-nude body and bringing the
number to a "climax" that invloved, let's just say, a male dancer and
her spitting a 15-foot stream of the white liquid at the moment of the
act's conclusion. Stunning and hot! One of the slickest, sexiest things
we've seen on stage at Hedo. All week, various competitions involving
the seven ladies in the annual Ms. No Swimsuit contest delighted
everyone on the main stage as well. They all deserved to win, and in the
end it was the lovely and super personable Tonya from DJ's Island
lifestyle club near Pittsburgh who took the cake. The DJ's Island group
was the most prominent and raucous band of fun-loving folks at the pool
party every day too, making for a rockin' good time for the whole crowd.
We had a blast playing trivia and other games for Hedo Bucks, which I
got to cash in later for a Hedonism T-shirt in fluorescent green--just
in time for St. Patty's Day! One of the poolside contests involved four
ladies kneeling before their men, having to bite a hole in the tip of a
condom held just so and filled with vanilla pudding, then suck out the
contents fast enough while displaying enough of it on their breasts to
win the approval of the judges. Another had the ladies lie on their
backs with a shallow pan on their abdomen containing mudslides and a
stick of bubble gum somewhere at the bottom. The men had to fish it out
using only their mouths, then chew the cold gum enough to blow a bubble.
I'm happy to say we did well enough at both challenges to take home a
nice bottle of Appleton Special rum, which we guzzled the next day while
reliving the vacation. The Thursday night talent show brought out some
excellent performers from among the guests featuring everything from
balloon animals and hot rock guitar to a steamy, sleazy blues version of
Led Zeppelin's sex-oozing Custard Pie. Met some great friendly
people on fetish night--one couple, whom I'll call K and T to respect
their privacy, came dressed to impress. He was a deacon in a full-length
black robe and white collar, carrying a Bible that was hollowed out to
hold a flask...and she was a naughty nun in a super short sexy dress
featuring large crosses on each thigh. He said the costume set was
called something like "The Deacon and the Bad Habit". Talk about taking
a theme to the extreme! I told them, "You guys aren't just pushing
the envelope--you're setting it on fire in the blazes of Hell,"
which they of course took in the "spirit" intended, as a supreme
compliment.
Kemar had the piano bar rocking in full-tilt boogie mode every night,
with a lively succession of sexy, libidinous ladies dancing on the piano
in varying stages of alluring undress. What a personality, a true
showman Kemar is. When he coaxed a newlywed couple of Hedo virgins up
top, the lady did an amazing striptease for her man that tore the roof
off the place. Winston also showed up a couple of nights and entertained
the crowd with his astounding vocal range and song styling. That man is
one amazing woman, which I know would make him smile, and a hell of a
top-notch entertainer.
We took the horseback riding excursion as we had done twice before, and
it was fun and relaxing, although we were saddened to learn that the
hurricane and recent appearance of robbers had eliminated the mountain
trail, our favorite section of the ride. Just the day prior, thieves had
stolen three of their horses. Still we got to walk them through the
ocean a bit, and then something happened that was unusual, for me
anyway. On the short walk up the trail after returning the horses to the
stable, I encountered a peacock perched placidly atop a post. Evans, our
guide, casually mentioned that he likes to be petted, so I got video of
me standing there, just lovingly stroking that warm cock. And boy, did
he ever like it. (OK, that's enough...) Then our other guide Seon came
over and cracked me up by answering my query as to the bird's name: "Kevin."
Yup, Kevin the peacock. I laughed long and loud at that one, but
Kevin was unfazed. This bird will sit there and absorb all the affection
you want to dish out--unlike his cousins, who love to fan their
drop-dead gorgeous feathers all right, proudly strutting and posing for
photos, but are too wary to let any humans approach for contact. As I
petted Kevin I complimented him on his awesome plumage and for his not
being aloof like the others. He seemed to genuinely appreciate my having
noticed. I remarked to Evans, "This is the highlight of the tour right
here. I mean, thanks for the horseback ride, but THIS..." That gave him
a grin.
Some of the greatest memories of the trip relate to our decision to take
the catamaran cruise three times. While snorkeling the reef naked, my
wife and I saw a couple of 10-foot stingrays lazily gliding around a
glass-bottom boat tossing food bits overboard to keep them interested
for the passengers' viewing. They came within a few feet of us, making
the experience the most enjoyable I've ever had with anything tubular in
my mouth. (Don't think I can say the same for my excellent wife,
heheheh.) When we visited the caves, we first had a wild ride in the one
on the left, with the energetic and turbulent swells taking us for a
roller-coaster ride deep within near the rocks. The hot, wet, salty
makeout session we managed while clinging to the boulders was more than
worth the few scrapes we picked up. Just the price of love. Then we went
over to the cave on the right and happened to look up. There in the
crevices of the ceiling were a family of what I call Hedo bats--because
they were just hanging out, licking each other. A couple of them
stretched out their wings, and I said, Boy, how cliché can you
get...bats, hanging upside down in a cave. Real original. They objected,
but missed me with the guano bomb. (I stuck out my tongue taunting them,
but then decided maybe that was inadvisable.) I'd never noticed them on
multiple prior trips to the caves. Rick's Cafe was OK, though crowded
and two hours before sunset. Better to go a bit later. They get $5 for a
Red Stripe--and a larcenous SIX BUCKS for a Red Stripe Light, which
ranks right up there with Milwaukee's Best Light among the world's least
noteworthy brews. Apparently you gotta pay an extra buck to have the
flavor removed. Recommend instead trying "Jamaican Me
Crazy"--three kinds of rum, banana liqueur and pineapple juice, just $5.
Ya mon!
The highlight of the cat cruises, as usual, was getting to party with
Rasta Ralphie. I told him that for us he IS Jamaica, the embodiment of
one love, a joyous being whose genuine smile radiates the warmth of the
Caribbean sun on everyone. I had fun jamming to the reggae with him on a
small percussion instrument called a bamboo scratcher, sharing a bit of
good cheer belowdecks, and scored an autographed Rasta Ralphie T-shirt
featuring a photo of a dreadlock-festooned dachshund on the back,
labeled "Dread Dog". (Perfect, since we have a weiner dog at home.) When
just a T-shirt makes you feel overdressed, you know you're in the right
place!
We met a ton of Canadians and other hardcore northerners, who had
blistering blizzards and biting cold to look forward to on their return.
I feel for them as I bask in the Florida sun, 75 degrees and balmy,
naked by the pool. What a reality shock they had waiting for them, so I
can't complain about my slowly subsiding DIF, even having been torn away
from a stellar adventure like this--never mind the parts I didn't
mention!
I know it's longer than normal, but if this trip report was even a tenth
as much fun to read as it was to relive, or 1/100 as much fun as the
trip itself, I'd count that as a win.
Irie mon!
aka hyjyljyj
Hedo bound 12/26/14 - 1/3/15 (forever from now)