Jamaica beyond the resorts
Itinerary aims to shrug off colonial legacy, truly help locals
“So,” said the tour guide, midway through our trip to Jamaica. “What are you really looking for?”
It was a good question. In most of the places we went, our group of four women had been welcomed and flirted with. But, we were rarely asked questions about the nature of our trip. We’d flown in from England and the United States in November, just before high season, intending to see the country over a month, while staying in and visiting as many locally owned businesses and guesthouses as we could.
Traveling from the east of the lush island to the west, and mostly avoiding the tourist hot spots of Ocho Rios, Montego Bay and Negril, we sought out places that were the opposite of what Jamaica has become known for: resortstyle luxury that doesn’t always offer locals a slice of the tourism pie. As a granddaughter of Jamaican immigrants, the search had special resonance for me.
“When people come to the Caribbean, they’re being funneled into this journey of the airport to the resort, and that’s all they see of the country,” said Riaz Philips, author of the cookbook “West Winds: Recipes, History and Tales from Jamaica.” “Usually, if you follow the money trail of that passage, it doesn’t lead to any tangible benefits for the people who live and work in those countries.”
Nicole Dennis-benn, who wrote about the dark side of Jamaican tourism in her novel “Here Comes the Sun,” explained that it can be hard for Jamaicans to start successful businesses. “It’s really impossible if you don’t come from wealth already. You’re not going to find much ownership among the Jamaican working class,” she said.
Even many of the white-sand beaches that foreign visitors enjoy are off-limits to residents, and are controlled by hotels and resorts, which limit access to their guests. Of the island’s approximately 493 miles of coastline, less than 3 miles are designated as public beaches, and half of those are used in association with hotels, according to a recent government policy paper. The public beaches that do exist are often rundown and not fit for use. That exclusion is emblematic of what some locals feel is the continuing legacy of colonialism and the history of slavery on the island.
Committed to discovering the country that few visitors see, we set out to discover if it was possible to be good tourists and travel to Jamaica beyond resorts.
Our trip began with a journey from Montego Bay’s Sangster International Airport to Kingston on the Knutsford Express (a Greyhound-equivalent bus) and then a taxi up and across the Blue Mountains, to stay at the Bluemount View guesthouse.
It was here that we met Noel Lindo and his wife, Michelle. The selfdescribed “King of the Mountain,” Lindo was born in the area. After living in London for most of his adult life, he and Michelle returned to Jamaica in
2011 — building their own house, and then the guesthouses. They are Lgbtqfriendly in a country that is not always hospitable to gay visitors, treat guests like family — and hand-roast their own coffee on-site.
“There’s so much to do in this mountain. It’s unbelievable,” Lindo said, pointing out hiking trails in the Blue and John Crow Mountains National Park, hidden waterfalls and coffee plantations, many of them owned by locals. We stopped at Eits Cafe, where we gorged on saltfish fritters, warming pumpkin ginger soup and sticky caramelized-plantain crepes while looking out across the mountains.
We wound up taking a day trip to visit the parish of Portland, on the northeast coast. Although
known for its beaches and as the location of the Blue Lagoon, made famous in the 1980 movie, we had a more rural experience. We visited the self-governing Maroon community of Charles Town in Buff Bay Valley, whose residents are descendants of Africans who escaped enslavement by fleeing to the mountains.
A tour of the small museum charted the history of the Maroons and how they have protected their freedom and culture over centuries, creating their own communities and belief systems while fighting against British slave owners and colonialists in a series of wars. Marcia Douglas, the current leader of the community, held up a heavy shackle that would have once been clasped around an enslaved person’s neck. Later, other members of the community brought out drums and sang. We were taught dances that bind the present and the past.
“What we’re offering in the tourism sector is our heritage, our ancestral inheritance,” Douglas said.
Another drive took us from the Blue Mountains down to Treasure Beach, in the southwest parish of St. Elizabeth. It’s probably the area in Jamaica best known for community tourism — low-impact travel that works in relative sync with the locals.
We spent the bulk of our time in Treasure Beach, sampling locally owned highlights like Smurfs
Cafe for the best Jamaican breakfast in town; Eggy’s Beach Bar for the coldest Red Stripes right on the sand; and Gee Wiz for tasty vegan food.
Floyd’s Pelican Bar, built from driftwood and palm fronds on a sandbank in the middle of the ocean, has to be the area’s best-known spot. Constructed in 2001 by Floyde Forbes, it’s a slick operation these days, requiring a boat journey that costs $40 per person at a minimum from Treasure Beach. But the vibes, a mile away from shore, are otherworldly. The freshly caught fried escovitch fish and bammy (a type of cassava flatbread) were the best I had on the island.
Treasure Beach is still an anomaly in Jamaica’s tourism sector.
“There’s no question that over 90% of Jamaica’s traditional room stock is all-inclusive,” said Jason Henzell, chair and co-owner of Jakes Hotel, the largest business in the area, who also runs a nonprofit to support locals. “I sat on the board of the Jamaican Ministry of Tourism for eight years, and I know they had been quite hesitant about community tourism. Not necessarily in Treasure Beach, but overall, because they were worried about crime. That’s the cold, hard truth.”
The Ministry of Tourism did not respond to requests for comment.
Our last stop, two hours from Treasure Beach, was Mel’s Botanical Retreat, in Westmoreland, the westernmost parish of Jamaica. The retreat, featuring three handbuilt wooden cabins and a communal kitchen, is high above the shimmering Caribbean Sea. At present, it’s run by a teen girl, Kiara Clayton. She is trying to do something special: keeping a dream of Black womanowned community tourism alive.
Kiara’s mother, Melessia Rodney, founded the retreat, built on the site of her family’s goat pasture. In summer 2021, she was pregnant with her second child and had recently married the love of her life. But then, in August, she died: At age 36, COVID-19 took her and her unborn baby.
Five months later, Kiara, 15, took over the business, balancing it alongside schoolwork and ambitions to become a lawyer or an entrepreneur in America. Despite her age, she understands the power of legacy. With the help of her family and her mother’s many friends, she is continuing to host guests at the retreat.
One night, Kiara joined me in the kitchen to talk about the business and why she decided to carry it on. “She wanted it to be this Black Jamaican womanowned business. She just loved being strong and independent,” she said.