I needed a vacation in the worse way. My skin was pale and cracking. My concealer from my tanned summer skin sat lonely and unused, relegated to the medicine cabinet. Worst of all my toenails were the definition of atrocious after months kept in socks and dumpy Uggs. Winter, you ruin my life! My sister was finishing up her last round of finals at Georgetown and she needed a break from group projects on Macroeconomics and boys in button-downs and khakis, so we decided to get our Nike on and just do it. Like the Divas that we are, we embarked on a four day food fest on an exclusive remote island in the Caribbean. Now when I say remote I mean Jamaica (Ocho Rios, to be exact) and by exclusive I mean an all-inclusive resort where spring- breakers, honeymooners and retirees gather around troughs of food, dripping suntan oil and saltwater on mounds of oily callaloo. To the Diva, this defined heaven.
This trip meant a lot to me and the only thing that could have made it better is if Rihanna and Chris Brown had decided to low-budget it and come at the same time and to the same place. I would have made it worth their while and performed my a capella rendition of Umbrella (ella-ella-ella) but whatever, I digress.
One of the many highlights of my trip is finding the meaning of life in the divine thing known as a Jamaican Pattie. It meant so much to me that it inspired the idea for this blog and is also the reason that it's my profile picture. Who wants to see a picture of this mug when you can look at the crispy, flaky mysteriousity that is the Pattie! After an early morning flight and bad airport food, my sister and I landed in 90 degree temps, starving! Jesus spoke to us through the simple yet inviting, toothless smile of a Jamaican Pattie vendor, who asked us kindly, "Chicken, beef or vegetable?" We were feeling brave so we went with the beef. Buttery, melt in your mouth mystery meat = BLISS. The fact that it was only $4 for 2 patties and a Ting, the native soda, is just what my girl Kimora would call Fabulousity!
Sometimes in this crazy world of job searching, love searching, soul searching, you need something so simple and beautiful and enjoyable that the experience can't be described in words. The joy of traveling with my sis is that we have our own language. Not that crazy twin kind of language because we are neither twins nor crazy. But I just had to look at her face and hear her mumble a knowing, "Mmm,hmmm," to know she understood my joy. There on a strange, dusty sidewalk in a country that is known mainly for a man who made good music and didn't wash his hair, I understood that life is all about simplicities. It is about good traveling companions, the sun on your back and a simple meal, that you can hold in your hand and take only quick, random guesses at its ingredients.
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