Story: Beach Shopping

"Hey. Hey you. American. Come over here mon." The voice drifted out of the Jamaican surf and up the immaculately combed beach before reaching me, lying prone on a wooden lounge on an outdoor deck of a pricey beach-side resort, where my fiance and I had come for my best friend's wedding.

I pulled myself upright with an effort and looked out, trying to locate the voice. I shaded my eyes and gazed at the small stone quay where the SCUBA expedition had launched from the day before. Tied up next to it, bobbing on water that was blue, then green, then blue again, was a small fiberglass skiff that looked to have been made from an old wind-surfing board.

"Come here!" The voice repeated itself, full of the syllable slurs and exaggerated vowels of the Jamaican patois. I adjusted my glasses and focused on the man in the skiff. Tall, dark skinned, scruffy beard, wearing fire-engine red shorts and a tangle of shell necklaces.

"Come here mon! Buy somet'in' for you lady!" His voice was letting a bit of exasperation show and he waved his arms in a 'c'mere' gesture that seemed to start at his feet and end far over his head. "I got somet'ings to show you."

"Why don't you come up here?" I called back, thinking that I didn't quite know enough of the island's or the resort's workings to go running out the end of a pier to shop for homemade jewelry. The man's insistence was reminding me of uncomfortable times in Mexico, trying to refuse to buy the 'chicle' children kept pushing at me. Middle class uneasiness had been biting around the edges of my conscience since arriving in Montego Bay two days prior. The same uneasiness that made my chest get tight when approached by homeless men, or too-friendly locals, or service people whose grins suggested that they knew the score. The uneasiness that says 'you don't belong here, tourist'.

"Nah, mon, I can' come up dere." The man's accent thickened as he laughed off my suggestion. "Maybe later then." He added, slipping back into tourist speak and pushing away from the landing, back into the shallow water in front of the resort, to try his luck at the next pier, a short paddle away.

I remained where I was, sipping my cocktail and waiting for my friends to show up to breakfast and taking in the sights, such as they were. There weren't any landmarks or historic areas in sight. What there was, was an abundance of natural beauty. From my vantage point on the veranda, I could see for several miles down the beach in either direction, taking in volleyball courts, beach-side bars, shaded lounge areas, docks, piers and the water vehicle sign-out area, all on beautiful white sand fine enough to be luxurious to walk on while still making walking relatively easy. Directly in front of me, the ocean and sky looked like some brilliant water-colorist had started high above me with dark blue, and far below me with dark green and drew both colors to the center until they merged in the purest aquamarine, with the occasional sailboat or cloud for variety.

I turned at the sound of my name and saw Mayumi, my fiance, emerging from the walkway, her green sundress blending in with the bright yellow of our room and the greens and reds of the flower garden like some sort of resort camouflage. She was waving at me, as she walked and shaded her eyes, trying to take in the splendor of the morning all in one look.

Morrison, one of the resort's bar tending staff, caught the exchange and raced around the bar to ask Mayumi how she was that morning. He'd taken a liking to her based on her fondness for a banana and rum concoction he'd invented. Although we'd only been on the island a couple of days, she'd already formed a habit of making a beeline for the bar when it opened at ten and ordering a "Morrison's Midway".

Mayumi disengaged from Morrison after getting a drink and sat down at the table, asking me in Japanese who I'd been talking to. I told her about the guy in the boat and how he'd asked me to go look at stuff. She thought it sounded interesting but I told her that I didn't feel very comfortable around trinket sellers or swindlers and didn't want to encourage them.

My best friend, and reason for being in Jamaica, Denny, joined us while I was explaining and told me I was being an idiot. He explained the boat guys away as entrepreneurs, telling us how they sold stuff that they'd made to the tourists staying at the resorts. For a significant profit. The sellers weren't allowed to actually come on resort grounds, just up to the beaches via their skiffs and floats. Denny had already been looking at the various skiffs, hoping to find a carved figure that he could take home.

Mayumi decided she wanted to go have a look at what they were selling so we took off down the beach, our bare feet leaving shadows in white sand, trying to catch up to the man I'd been talking to.

"Oi!" I said, trying to appear confident but not cocky, as we walked between the rows of flagpoles bearing the symbols of nations represented by the current guest population of the resort and down the wooden pier he'd anchored himself to. "She's looking for a necklace or something. Can we take a look?"

"Sure mon!" Up close, he seemed like a nice enough guy. Friendly face with smile lines around the corners of his eyes and much younger than I'd thought. "Whatcha lookin' for M'lady?" I noticed that the thick accent had come back with a bright smile, perfect for getting the tourist girls to buy stuff at a large mark-up.

Mayumi looked at him in puzzlement and asked me what he'd said. I repeated it for her in English, and added in Japanese, "what do you think?"

The Jamaican looked at me. "Wha' language dat you speakin'?"

"Japanese," I said.

"Ah, dat's cool mon. Does she speak the English mon?"

"Yeah, she's just having some problems with Jamaican accents."

"Yah mon, we get dat a lot. How you be with de accents?" He smiled at me while keeping his hands busy moving some pieces to the fore of the skiff or digging others out of a box to hand to Mayumi directly.

Mayumi examined the pieces slowly as she sat on the edge of the pier, dangling her feet in the water. Tiny fish, no bigger than my thumb darted around her feet as they were pushed and pulled by the gentle waves.

"Not too bad. Took me a bit but I'm getting there." I tried to keep all traces of pride out of my voice lest he go with the full patois which I really couldn't understand. Jamaicans seem to speak three languages: Textbook perfect English, which they kept for the resorts and airports, Tourist Patois, used in shows and smaller service venues, and Full Patois which is nearly incomprehensible to anyone not Jamaican and is on its way to being classified as a language in itself.

"Dat's nice mon." Said the seller, continuing to show Mayumi pieces. She chose one to hold up to the light and asked me "Dou?" Japanese shorthand for "how is it?" or "what do you think?"

"It's pretty nice," I said, looking at the necklace, made of hemp or some similar fiber with small shells woven into the strands. The shells seemed local; they were very much like the ones I'd seen on a dive the day before. The ones that the dive masters had been adamant about not touching or taking for souvenirs. In Japanese, I asked, "Do you want to buy it? How much are you willing to pay for it?"

"I don't know yet." She said, still speaking Japanese.

"Dat's Japanese mon. Dat's nice. My lady at home, she speaks Vietnamese. Don' really know what she's saying half of the time but it's all right."

I lifted my eyebrows. "Your lady's from Vietnam?" He nodded. "Cool. Can you speak Vietnamese?"

"Nah mon" His grin revealed perfect white teeth. "Can' speak a word. But I'm gonna learn as soon's I make my cash mon." The grin got wider. "So how's the Japanese mon? I heard it's the hard language to get good at."

"Yeah, it's not easy but I'm trying." I was looking at the pieces that Mayumi was looking through wondering how I was going to handle it if she didn't want to buy anything.

"Dat's good mon. How's she doin' wit' the' necklace?" He nodded at the necklace in Mayumi's hands. It was nice, in that way that traveler jewelry is nice. Well, not nice. But easy to talk about. Easy to say "Oh, this? I got this in Jamaica a few years ago." And then prattle on about whatever. But Mayumi obviously liked it so I kept my mouth shut.

Mayumi said in English "I want to think some. About it. It's nice. But I need to think." She handed the necklace back to the Jamaican. He took it from her without a trace of disappointment on his face.

"No problem m'lady. Anytime you wan' buy, you jus' come back down de beach ok?"

Mayumi looked a question at me. I nodded. I thanked the Jamaican and Mayumi and I walked back up the beach to meet our friends for lunch.

As we walked Mayumi looked back at the seller, still floating on his skiff and now reclining, enjoying the mid-morning sun and said, "Kare wa ii hito ne."

"Yeah," I answered, "he was a nice guy."