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Port Antonio, Jamaica, 1995

Port Antonio, Jamaica, 1995

Dougburnett
2003-11-22 10:59:47

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I first saw Case in the market. Although the place was packed, you could hardly miss him: he was rail-thin and thoroughly sunburned with a head of wild, curly hair. He had pulled his full beard forward into a ponytail and his clothes sported hand-stitched patches. He was clearly a man who didn't live around mirrors. We nodded a greeting. Little did I know then how often I would be seeing this strange looking fellow.

I had come to Port Antonio for a week's get-away. I was staying at a little resort on Navy Island out in the bay. I had a cozy little cottage that faced the water and I was lulled to sleep at night by tropical sound: the rustle of thatch, the calls of night birds and the sound of the surf. My days were equally pleasant. I wandered the little town, read the local papers and sat at a local bar writing in my journal.

The town itself wasn't much, just a collection of dusty streets and pastel buildings with lush vegetation everywhere. There were a few dispirited hustlers in the market but they soon give up on me. The weather was hot enough that it slowed me down - just what I was looking for.

On the day I arrived, as I was walking around, a man pointed to a little bar and simply said, "Good food." Being hungry I gave it a try. It was on a short pier, open on three sides and covered with a thatch roof. On the land end where there was a small bar and cook shed. The beer was cold and the fish was fresh. I immediately decided this was my hangout.

As it was low season, my resort was nearly empty so if I wanted to socialize I would head to the pier bar. The hotel ran a little boat between the island and the mainland. It was a pleasant five-minute ride across the calm bay and we docked near the pier bar making it a convenient stop. I would usually find Captain Case there too.

Everyone called him Captain owing to the fact that he had a small sailboat. He told me he was originally from Holland but now living in Miami. All he would say about his livelihood was, "America has been good to me Doug, very good." I had my suspicions. He was gone all day in the mountains and he didn't look the sightseeing type to me. I figured he was in the import/export business. Never the less he was excellent company and we spent many evenings together at the pier bar.

On my last evening there a short, gaunt Jamaican got up to sing. The sun was just setting as he leaned back against the railing and strummed his beat-up guitar a few times. When he had our complete attention, he started singing a ribald calypso tune in his gravely voice, a song I suspect he has sung many times before. We - Captain Case, myself and the 8 or 10 Jamaicans who had stopped on their way home - kept time by tapping our bottles and sang along on the choruses: "Yes yes, she likes the Big Bamboo."

Thinking back on it now I realize what a perfect moment it was: a balmy night with good company and cold beer. If you're looking for a place to relax, Port Antonio might just be the place for you. If you go just make sure to visit the pier bar - and keep an eye out for Captain Case, you can't miss him.

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