Natural Beauty, Quirkiness and All Things Water


We have no cell phones, no Lonely Planets and no internet. But we know someone you can stay with, our friends said when we left Italy. His name is Hadley Suwell and he lives in Port Antonio. We smiled. See, I thought to myself. We got this. We don’t tell anyone and board a plane to Jamaica.

At the one story airport, the bald headed immigration officer tells us to “watch out fo dem rastas” before he stamps our passports. When we agree to a cab ride with two rastas outside the terminal, (we were mobbed, these guys were just the pushiest) they tell us to “neva trust da bald heads” and laugh. Kate and I eye each other, ducking into the car.

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It’s all Ivy’s fault. I get dumped by Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome himself and feel like I’ve fallen off a skyscraper. I need to get out of Maui, like fast. So on December 7, 2013 (the day my Saturn return starts) I find myself in a dingy brown wing of the Miami International Airport meeting up with… the Public Defenders of Los Angeles. What the hell am I doing traveling straight from Miami to Havana with a bunch of lawyers?

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