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On my way to Jamaica, I had two hours to kill at Miami Airport. I parked myself at one of the Cuban cafes for a cubano, a perfect sandwich of roast pork, ham and pickles welded together by a semi-fluid puck of Swiss cheese.
Then in that very American, somewhat disorientating way, especially after a nine-hour flight, a man at the bar sitting next to me struck up conversation. After telling me about his time visiting London, he asked me where I was going. When I said Jamaica Inn in St. Ann, Jamaica, he spent the rest of our longer-than-anticipated time together telling me how lucky I was. Not that he had ever been: the hotel’s reputation clearly precedes itself. Finally, the announcement for boarding came with crumbs swept away. I was off to the Jamaica Inn.
The hotel, which opened in 1950 and takes a Colonial style, is steeped in history. It has welcomed Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller, Noel Coward, Winston Churchill and Errol Flynn through its doors. Another of the jet set, Ian Fleming, allegedly invented the shaken (not stirred) martini at the hotel during drinking sessions with his friends Coward and Roald Dahl, who would escape the winter cold in Britain and pilgrimage to Jamaica to write.
Stepping out of Kingston airport you are hit by a thick wall of heat before being whisked out of the capital towards Ocho Rios, a town on the north of the island. Oscar drove me through the night as I drifted asleep.
By the time I arrived at Jamaica Inn it was late, and felt even later. But I was soothed by the easy-going welcome and hospitality from the staff, which would become the defining feature of my stay. Within minutes I was in my room, where sandwiches and cakes and coffee had been left out; a few minutes later a rum punch arrived to knock me out for a restorative night’s sleep.
In the hazy morning light, the beauty of the hotel unravels itself. The room I stayed in opens onto a private veranda, which spills onto Jamaica Inn’s private beach. Within a few steps you’re in the Caribbean Sea, which is clear and warm above dappled silver sand. I stayed at the hotel at the end of October when it was blissfully quiet. Most mornings I would have the entire beach to myself.
Still on London time for most of my stay, I would get up early to bob around in the water. From this vantage point you can watch as warm wind tugs on palm fronds in front of the soft blue hotel. Looking along the coast, the emerald fingers of the island jut out around the bay and hold the sea in its half-clenched fist. I found it was a particular pleasure to swim in the rain – or ‘liquid sunshine’ in Jamaica – when the sky clings like a heavy coat and the sea turns matte green, with the slick, undulating surface pockmarked by fat raindrops. It’s an almost surreal beauty, and one so far removed from everyday life, of trodden tarmac and idling buses, that you can hardly believe you’re there.
Mangoes from market to plate
The breakfast at Jamaica Inn is incredible wherever you have it. I liked to order fruit, callaloo, porridge and coffee to my room and watch narrow fishing boats see-saw on the horizon as opportunistic birds hover overhead. Much of the excellent food at the hotel comes from the local farmer’s market, which we visited on the first morning. There, men with machetes hack open fresh coconuts for you to drink from before scooping out the sweet jelly inside. Empty bottles of Wray and Nephew are filled with wild honey. The stalls are laden with yams, scotch bonnet chillies, mangoes, squat pineapples and avocados the size of bowling balls. Back at the hotel, Chef Maurice soaks sugar cane in rum as the morning melts into day with the sweet smell of plantains frying in oil.
Jamaica Inn: Unmatched hospitality
Jamaica Inn has been family run and owned since 1958 and you feel this permeate the entire ethos of the place. It is luxurious and glamorous without ever feeling uptight or stuffy. You can dine directly on the beach under the thick, knotted foliage of a sea almond tree at Teddy’s, or get dressed up and enjoy lobster, live music and cocktails at the Terrace Restaurant.
I spent a lot of my time planted at the Beach Bar drinking planter’s punch and talking to other guests, many of whom have been coming back to the hotel for decades. And within a few hours, you understand why. Expansive Jamaican hospitality is matched only by a sense of fun and great chat – the bar staff, some of whom have been working at the hotel for over 40 years, will make you laugh even when they ridicule the football team you support.
Exploring Ocho Rios
Although leaving the hotel is hard, it is worth a trip into Ocho Rios to have dinner at Miss T’s, a buzzing family-run restaurant with strong cocktails and live music. On the way there you feel a languorous day shift into the possibility of night. You pass bone-rattling DIY sound systems as the evening comes alive. I was sipping on Red Stripe and, later, tonic wine. At Miss T’s the food is served family style: the oxtail is gelatinous and rich with plump beans, while the curried goat is sweet and earthy. The restaurant’s owners are good friends of the hotel, so you’ll be in safe hands, but get the Jamaica Inn to order you a transfer there and back just to be on the safe side, as crime is high in Jamaica.
How to spend it
‘Jamaica time’ – when the hours feel like they go more slowly than usual – is best spent lounging, as ceiling fans curdle the air. Or at the hotel’s cliff-edge Ocean Spa where I was scrubbed and pressed to the sound of waves breaking. Or sipping rosé and playing croquet.
If you venture slightly down the coast, you may be lucky enough to catch a nest of turtles hatch. Bleary-eyed they emerge from the sand before skittering and stuttering into the blunt welcome of the waves.
On my final night I sip ice-cold martinis on the terrace bar as lightning splits the sky between the island and Cuba, revealing the great expanse of water below the jagged clouds. The evening air is thick with the cries of tiny, singing frogs and cracks of thunder.
Gorgeous, life-giving Jamaica had been quite the tonic to prepare myself for the upcoming onslaught of Christmas party season
On my way back to the airport I spent a day in Kingston eating sweetly-charred jerk chicken and the best rum and raisin ice cream I’ve ever had at heritage site Devon House before exploring the vibrant murals in pulsating downtown with Kingston Creative Tours.
The team at Kingston Creative are using cultural events, art and tours to regenerate the island’s capital which has suffered decline over the last decade. As well as art tours, you can book food and music experiences directly through their website, Kulcha Connect (visiting Kingston without a tour guide is not advisable due to the high crime rate, but tour operators are well-vetted).
Gorgeous, life-giving Jamaica had been quite the tonic to prepare myself for the upcoming onslaught of Christmas party season. As the plane takes off over the verdant island, I am already thinking about a return trip to the Jamaica Inn, to be swathed in its open-palmed luxury.
Take my advice: escape the misery this January and unwind in Jamaica with a martini in-hand: Fleming would approve.
• Rooms at the Jamaica Inn cost from around £290 per night. The best time to go is between December and May. To book go to the website here
