A room at Jakes in Treasure Beach, Jamaica.
Greetings!
"Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down." Oprah Winfrey
Some people come into our lives, leave footprints in our hearts and we are never, ever the same.
Once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary day love gives us a fairytale.
This is my fairytale.
Treasure Beach is a small fishing village located on a peninsula on the South Coast of Jamaica, I always wanted to write a story or a script for a movie or documentary as I have had so many lives, and met so many people, so I decided to write a story about the fascinating characters I had encountered. Not really clear on the subject, just knowing I had to get it out of my system, this passion, this burning, the yearning to write was consuming me.
While sitting in a rum bar talking to my village friends, most of them fishermen, who told fascinating tales of their adventures at sea. Their voices began sounding like a loud ringing in my head, I thought for one second I might have had a little too much beverage, and then it hit me like a bolt of lightning.
This was the story and it had to be told.
I took a leap of faith, a deep breath and plunged. I packed up my business in Kingston and moved to Treasure Beach.
Some people come into our lives, leave footprints in our hearts and we are never, ever the same.
Once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary day love gives us a fairytale.
This is my fairytale.
Treasure Beach is a small fishing village located on a peninsula on the South Coast of Jamaica, I always wanted to write a story or a script for a movie or documentary as I have had so many lives, and met so many people, so I decided to write a story about the fascinating characters I had encountered. Not really clear on the subject, just knowing I had to get it out of my system, this passion, this burning, the yearning to write was consuming me.
While sitting in a rum bar talking to my village friends, most of them fishermen, who told fascinating tales of their adventures at sea. Their voices began sounding like a loud ringing in my head, I thought for one second I might have had a little too much beverage, and then it hit me like a bolt of lightning.
This was the story and it had to be told.
I took a leap of faith, a deep breath and plunged. I packed up my business in Kingston and moved to Treasure Beach.
Treasure Beach is magic. It is not the most lush landscape, it is not the easiest road to travel, it is quite the opposite. The land is dry and arid, parched brown grass, the worst roads you can imagine with no signage, but the sweetest, kindest people, I have ever met in my life.
It is the only place on the planet I feel complete freedom and peace. I can wonder the streets at night, without fear, sit in the sun with a book alone, or hang with the villagers listening to their tales. It is also healing to the spirit, as you are surrounded by nature in it’s purest form.
Dolphins swim by, hummingbirds feed on flowers in front of your eyes, goats and cows, barking dogs and crowing roasters permeate the wind. In the background, reggae music can be heard from a far off radio or car as it speeds by. This is the soundtrack of Treasure Beach.
I rented a small shack owned by an old Jamaican couple from Kingston. The shack had no electricity, no hot water, no A/C no T/V..no creature comforts. Just a shack on a beach with some goats. I was all alone, but I needed this space in order to write this story. My designer wardrobe had now whittled down to a piece of cloth, tied around my hips and a pair of beaten up flip flops. This is all I needed…well...except for my case of expensive lotions and potions. You can’t expect a city girl to live on nature alone, now can you.
The Aveda, Lancome and Keils were not in short supply.
Thus began the journey of researching the material for this project of mine. I interviewed old men, young men, church ladies, children, madmen and off course the fishermen as this was to be a tale of the fishermen who lived in this remote Jamaican village. One weekend I invited my girlfriends from Kingston to come and meet my villagers and arranged a small gathering at the shack. Suddenly I looked up and walking through my door was an unfamiliar face. This beautiful brown man with deep green eyes came in and just sat on a chair in a corner. He did not say hello or goodnight, he did not smile, he just sat down on a chair in a corner. I have never been lost for words, my friends can vouch for that. I was completely lost for words. I could not speak. I stopped speaking, I think I stopped breathing too…the words stuck in my throat when I tried…no one has ever rendered me speechless...I felt slightly faint.
He never left that night or the next day or the next week, for months he never left my side.
He stayed with me, cried with me, loved with me.
I was living in my own fairytale.
I rented a small shack owned by an old Jamaican couple from Kingston. The shack had no electricity, no hot water, no A/C no T/V..no creature comforts. Just a shack on a beach with some goats. I was all alone, but I needed this space in order to write this story. My designer wardrobe had now whittled down to a piece of cloth, tied around my hips and a pair of beaten up flip flops. This is all I needed…well...except for my case of expensive lotions and potions. You can’t expect a city girl to live on nature alone, now can you.
The Aveda, Lancome and Keils were not in short supply.
Thus began the journey of researching the material for this project of mine. I interviewed old men, young men, church ladies, children, madmen and off course the fishermen as this was to be a tale of the fishermen who lived in this remote Jamaican village. One weekend I invited my girlfriends from Kingston to come and meet my villagers and arranged a small gathering at the shack. Suddenly I looked up and walking through my door was an unfamiliar face. This beautiful brown man with deep green eyes came in and just sat on a chair in a corner. He did not say hello or goodnight, he did not smile, he just sat down on a chair in a corner. I have never been lost for words, my friends can vouch for that. I was completely lost for words. I could not speak. I stopped speaking, I think I stopped breathing too…the words stuck in my throat when I tried…no one has ever rendered me speechless...I felt slightly faint.
He never left that night or the next day or the next week, for months he never left my side.
He stayed with me, cried with me, loved with me.
I was living in my own fairytale.
Then one day, unexpectedly he disappeared. Like a dream, I can never wake up from.
Wherever you are, you gave me a gift, I was afraid to open. You made me realize that something other than myself is real. For this gift I am Thankful.
I eventually wrote my story, which off course was now a love story. A Fish out of Water turned into My Jamaican Guy. It took two heart wrenching years, and a move to London and Los Angeles, but in the end it was all worth it. It is my dream that one day, My Jamaican Guy will be shown on the big screen in a cinema and I will walk the red carpet, take my bow, and smile when I hear the words..."and the winner for best picture is"
Wherever you are, you gave me a gift, I was afraid to open. You made me realize that something other than myself is real. For this gift I am Thankful.
I eventually wrote my story, which off course was now a love story. A Fish out of Water turned into My Jamaican Guy. It took two heart wrenching years, and a move to London and Los Angeles, but in the end it was all worth it. It is my dream that one day, My Jamaican Guy will be shown on the big screen in a cinema and I will walk the red carpet, take my bow, and smile when I hear the words..."and the winner for best picture is"
I hope you enjoyed this tale.
BLESSINGS, ONE LOVE & WALK GOOD
...now I'm speechless...amazing...
ReplyDeleteTreasure Beach. Oh, that place is just made for love...
ReplyDeleteHowever, I will always think of it as a place to wander through the moonlight, giggling in a field with you. xoxo