Jamaica Honeymoon - Day 3
Apollo Fields Destination Wedding Photographers | Negril, Jamaica | Honeymoon Adventures
Jamaica – Day 3
Sunday, November 4th, 2018 ~7:35 am, local time
Another morning waking to the ebbs and flows of the Caribbean Sea. There’s something about the sound of waves crashing that lures your mind into the rhythm of nature, reminding you that everything that comes will also go. The whitewater that sprays into the air, jettisoning from the sharp rock face, shows no concern for my presence, or for any of the other creatures that cling to their cratered homes on this violently-formed beautiful façade. Yet it’s these wall-dwelling sea creatures — these Jamaican mussels and crabs — that taught me that we need to carve a small niche for ourselves, where we can brave the onslaught of life’s elements, if we want to survive in this otherwise unforgiving world.
We took a right out of Sundown Villa this morning for the first time on our Vespa, passing Rick’s Café among the other horribly named Americanized resorts like ‘The Palms’ and ‘Lover’s Paradise” as the wind whipped around our bodies on our way to a place called “Barney’s Hummingbird and Flower Sanctuary.” Heather clung to my back like a baby koala as we veered off the pavement onto a dirt road, her lips stammering through the worried words of her mind like mental pot holes. We passed a man walking down the road, sharpening a machete and were reminded of our cab driver who told us that all the goats that roam the island are owned by someone — and if you were to say, pick one up — you will find yourself on the wrong end of one of those blades. We swerved around the man and slowed as we approached two large, faded green doors that hung on rusted hinges.
“Hello!” Said a thin pale-skinned old man donning a worn trousers-and-suspenders outfit as he swung the gates open. “Welcome to my hummingbird and flower sanctuary. I am Barney, the proud German-Jamaican-English owner of this place,” he added. As he led us through the narrow walkways of his garden, the flutter of hummingbirds moved all around us, kind of like the sound of tiny handheld toy fans. Palms and large leaves hung down as geckos and other insects fed from the vibrant pink, red, and yellow flowers that boomed in contrast to the blue sky. Barney gave us all tiny bottles with punctured red caps that dripped with sugar water to lure the hummingbirds in. We held our outstretched arms in the air, mimicking the branches that reached over the garden’s pathways, hoping that the birds would come feed from our “flowers.” Patiently walking around, the birds began to trust us one at a time, holding fast in midair right in front of our faces, mother nature’s natural helicopters, hovering in place, wings effortlessly flapping seventy times a second. Barney grinned a grin that only a hummingbird expert could grin, or maybe it was because of the six-pack of Red Stripe.
Eager for local cuisine we stopped just up the road at a place called Just Natural Veggies. Simple enough, I thought. From there we ordered rum punch, a vegetable plate, lobster salad, sweet potato and plantain, and a bean and rice burrito. As we walked to the side of the restaurant we followed a path into the jungle, tables and chairs scattered about like a diner inside the woods. There were checker board tables that used plastic bottle caps and Red Stripe caps as checkers and each table had an orange bottle of locally made hot habanero hot sauce. We ate our freshly made dishes in the middle of the jungle, no one around but the smiling faces of the restaurant, who laughed and joked as they set down our plates. They could’ve been feeding us fried gecko for all we knew as we sat mesmerized in this restaurant that made rustic concepts back home look like four-star hotels. In the jungle and of the jungle, we walked out of there happy and full.
There are niches to be carved, if only we are wise enough to see them. These experiences will stick to my heart like the geckos on the flowers and the mussels on the rock wall. As the trip continues, I can only hope to unearth more things that I can learn from and grow closer to carving out my own crater I can call home.
Jamaica Honeymoon - Day 2
Jamaican Honeymoon | Negril, Jamaica | Apollo Fields Destination Wedding Photographers
Jamaica – Day 2
8:00 am, local time
Another welcoming morning on the Caribbean Sea. The birds fluttering overhead, searching for scraps and seeds while Heather sits up in bed scratching at her mosquito bites. The waves crashing with a regular familiarity that’s impossible to forget, kind of like your mother calling you home for dinner from the front porch. Who knows what the world has in store for us today, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The first two nights Heather and I cooked and stayed in after dark. A combination of the mysterious foreign streets and a travel-induced fatigue, we drew a bath and enjoyed each other’s company in a tub of lukewarm water. There is a definite fear of the unknown, of sitting on a wooden stool in a straw shack on any of the thousands of dark streets in Jamaica. Horror stories from the United States embedded in me creating a hesitance like that of a lost child. I am ashamed for it. It makes me think of the role that caution plays when a person finds themselves in a different culture and how trust is linked to the environments that we know.
Heather’s uncle, Rick. is a great example of this. Conservative through-and-through, he comes down to Jamaica to shake hands and bask in the safety of nostalgia, eating dishes that he knows in bar stools that he’s warmed. Surrounding himself with other light-skinned tourists, there isn’t much difference than home, other than everything that exists outside of the Treehouse’s gated walls. When does caution or comfortability take too much control of one’s assimilation into another’s culture?
As of this morning, I’m as stifled as Rick. I want to stop at an authentic Jamaican restaurant tucked onto the side of the road like a beach shanty, but because I’ve seen none of them populated by tourists, deep down I consider them unsafe. It feels like a hard-wiring that pulls back on the reigns as I ride through a culture I do not know. Today, I will make a better effort at launching myself into the Jamaican culture and trusting those that I my ignorant instincts tell me not to trust. It’s funny how trusting people is usually my strongest attribute, yet when put to the real-world test, I’m as cautious as anyone.
Yet yesterday I jumped from cliffs at heights I’ve never leaped from before and snorkeled in rough waters close to dangerously sharp rocks. There’s an adventurous spirit in me that needs to be nudged into action, but once the opportunity arises, I tend to bypass the safety valve and dive head first. Even riding a scooter for the first time on the opposite side of the road was pretty daunting. In these moments, it’s either you do what you are afraid to do, or you live with your cowardice. The many times in life my that I’ve approached this dilemma, I’ve found that great relief lies just beyond the other side of fear, hiding behind the louder voices in your head, waiting to see if you will do it. Today I will silence those voices and immerse myself in a culture I do not know.
Jamaica Honeymoon - Day 1
Westmoreland, Jamaica | Sundown Villa | Honeymooning | Apollo Fields Photojournalism | Blog
Jamaica, Day 1
Friday, November 2nd , ~ 8:09am, local time
I woke up several times to the luminescent glow in the sky of a Jamaican sunrise, stirring to the sounds of life’s reawakening to the smell of fresh fires and morning birds. Looking out onto the rigid horizon, my view was divided in two — the sky and the sea — one blue, darker and in constant motion, while the other floated in its own lightness. The semi-frequent car horn blared from the street, bringing me back to the march of civilization that we thought we left in New York.
Hungry, I waited as Heather ruminated on her back in a lounge chair. She stared at the same dialectic view, but I know her eyes told her a different story. She saw the way the light struck the different crests of the ocean, the way it played with the rocks, creating shadows and depth as geckos crawled between the dark and the light. She heard the birds and the cars but she reached another plane of mind by sheer will, wrestling her otherwise purposeful mind into a peaceful submission. It took a bit of effort, but she got there, perhaps reaching an even more placid mental state than my own.
Most things are competitions for us and why would relaxation be any different. I told her while I was reading Shantaram that it seemed a task for her to sit still, that she should go start breakfast because 1) I was hungry, and 2) I thought that it would provide her productive mind with something to do. She disagreed, saying that it wasn’t difficult, that she found no trouble or resistance in the open space of an unoccupied mind, but I could see the struggle. The struggle of a relentless spirit meeting no opponent, of a force pushing forward to find no resistance, where effort was not rewarded but yielded to. What does a warrior make of passivity on the battlefield where victory reveals nothingness? Where there is no one to fight and nowhere to go but inside one’s heart? I imagine the war is explosive and silent. I’m just happy to see her relax.
I don’t know what to expect from our time in Jamaica, safely tucked into our Airbnb on the cliffs at Sundown Villa, somewhat immersed in the culture while staying at an arms length. Before we arrived, dad and others preached caution, forewarning danger, but our host, Nadine, exudes nothing but the warmth Americans have come to expect from Rasta and Jamaican culture. Clouded in the smoke of ganja, I hope to brush shoulders with locals and eat from their authentic tradition, whether from the street or between the walls of celebrated staples. I hope to return to the States revitalized and hungry, rejuvenated yet ready to begin the search for our new home.
This One's For You, Colorado
September is here…
For someone who’s moving across the country and getting married in the next few weeks, I’m surprisingly calm. The opposite of having cold feet, Heather and I are inching towards our departure from Colorado with equal parts celebration and anticipation. Of course, leaving will be hard, but our two years in Arvada has only shown us that our ambition cannot be contained in our cozy cottage on Cody Street.
The friends we’ve made here caught us at a pivotal developmental phase of our relationship, and because of that they mean that much more to us. From the dinner parties to dancing like idiots at Red Rocks, Heather and I have never quite had the community that we’ve fallen into here. I’ve never felt more like myself than when Heather’s sampling sauce from her wooden spoon and I’m welcoming friends in through the front door. To know that our Colorado friends have helped us realize that – these core parts of who we are – is to understand an achievement of friendship that we will never feel worthy for.
It would be scarier to leave if we didn’t have such a solid plan in place. When we land in New York on October 1st, 2018, we are emptying Joey (our car) into our interim home in East Northport, NY, on Long Island, and scooting over to Ramsey, NJ, to prepare Honeymoon Acres for our wedding. It will be a week of tedious logistics where we will transform inevitable accidents and miscues into laughter and memories. After that, we get married, cry, and party. It’s that easy.
From there, we will take our wedding brand, Apollo Fields, into its next iteration: a wedding venue. We dream of a lush green piece of land with a barn and a farmhouse with a long, wrap-around porch, complete with a swinging bench that creaks as you reminisce in those long moments before dinner is ready. We see hard work and love coexisting in a space where relationships are honored as partnerships, and where friendship is built into the bones. The best part about this dream is that we cannot only see it, but that it is fully within our grasp.
I’m not going to pretend to say that I won’t cry when we leave (mainly because I already have), but I will say that the hit won’t be as hard because we have so much to look forward to. When we left New York for Colorado two years ago, we packed everything we cared about into Sacajawea (our now deceased Subaru), and now as we return we will be doing the same with Joey. With Riddle, Rumor, (and Limbo living the luxury life in a commercial trailer) in tow, Heather and I are turning the music up and making our way back home. Who knows when it will hit us, as the tears began to pour as we drove over the George Washington Bridge last time, but I know that I’m ready for them. This one’s for you Colorado.
Your Immeasurably Grateful Friends,
Terrence & Heather
(The Apollo Fields Family )
Cookbook Sale!
We’re also having a dope sale on our books to lighten our moving load! Click HERE.
Some of Our Favorite Memories in Colorado:
Photos Credited to our wonderful and talented friends:
Sam Hines
Kim Klein
Sarah Valencia