Our itinerary says our stop for today is Montego Bay, but instead we are pulling in, hours earlier, in Ocho Rios. Hey, as far as I’m concerned, it’s still Jamaica!
Originally I was on a tour that’s no longer viable and S was making it a free day, but out of Ocho Rio there’s a tour of the Green Grotto that is of interest to us both, and off we go.
Bats. Fig tree roots digging down to find the pool of water underground. It is all very cool.
Our tour number is 21 – all of us wearing a sticker to that effect – but former diver S can envision the caves underwater as they once were, and her instincts make her want to wander off paths and go exploring (she doesn’t) but she seems like a flight risk (ha ha). Because the guide needs some way to call her, and calling “21” doesn’t help she gets named 22.
After the Green Grotto there is a brief stop for souvenirs and tastes of rum (surprisnigly yum) and/or rum cake before we return to the ship.
On board we live a quiet little life. Dinner with Barb and Mancha, Joyce, and Sue, Leslie and Betsy. Chocolate or coffee at the cafe. Evenings early in the trip we fit in a show, an evening walk outside and maybe a pizza run. But for most of the trip, evenings are more a chance to crawl back into the comfortable cave of our cabin, nursing my sore toes, reading books and falling asleep ridiculously early, with another port to look forward to.
Yes I still have my cold and I still feel like poop because of it. Pardon the little detail provided. *Tired* is my name at present.