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Up until a week of arriving at the hotel, the travel agency I had booked with was fighting with the resort to honor the all inclusive package I had booked. Somehow, I got a package that was not valid for all of my dates of stay, yet the agent guaranteed it. When the hotel balked, I was terrified I would arrive in Jamaica and be smacked with a huge, regular Half Moon rate. I most certainly could not afford this to happen. Granted, I am not sure if this was the mistake of the Half Moon or of the travel agent, but, that being said, I arrived on property with a sour taste in my mouth. This was quickly washed away by my choice of a complimentary alcoholic beverage while I waited, seated, in a room to be checked in. The sweet drink and the fact that it was only about 10 AM made me realize that I could stop worrying and that I had arrived in paradise. This feeling too, began to pass as my boyfriend and I waited about 15 minutes for the associate to arrive to check us in. |
My room, an ocean front, hibiscus junior suite, was gorgeous. Modernly decorated, the furniture was solid, the upholstery smooth, and the bed luxurious. The bathroom was the size of half of my New York City apartment. The front porch, just one step off a beautiful patch of lawn, was only about 10 feet from the white sand beach. It was the location for a movie star. Since we ended up able to receive the all inclusive package, every morning I would stroll the few steps to the beach and catch a few early rays while we waited for the room service to arrive. The beach consists of mini half moon shaped alcoves, and patches of shade from the small palm trees. The water was clear and calm, though it was, in places, extremely rocky. Due to my visit during the summer months, I was often the only person on the beach. I had my own half moon.
Breakfast was the best meal of the day. Coconut pancakes and waffles with caramel syrup, fresh fruit, lox and bagels were all delivered by friendly staff who carried the trays on their heads, much to my American delight. Lunch was served in the open air dining room at The Seagrape, whose heat and humidity in late August was appetite-zapping, and the food only fair. Flies were relentless. It was dinner that confused me most. Somehow, my chicken entrees tasted like my pasta entrees, the pasta tasted like bread, and the steak tasted like nothing. Even the dessert had no flavor, leaving flat and dreaming of a New York pizza. Salt did not help; it was most curious. I was very glad to not have to pay a la carte. Il Giardino, the Italian restaurant, was much better and the servers were wonderful. At the Sugar Mill, (a Half Moon restaurant just off property) which elicited ooohs and aaahs from the staff when we told them where we planned to dine, the food was the fanciest and most creative. It was beautiful and the atmosphere wonderful until it cleared out at around 9.30.
Service was so awful at The Seagrape that after a few days I vowed not to go back. Two people would take our drink orders yet nothing would arrive. Finally my drink would arrive but none for my boyfriend. Side of mustard? Impossible. We didn't bother asking for a few glasses of water and we stuck to room service.
Perhaps it was an unlucky time to go during the slow season of August. I was hoping to argue that the staff would be over-attentive due to the low occupancy rate. The resort is world renowned, extravagant, and beautifully lush. My massage with a fruit plate and champagne Jacuzzi session was unparalleled. If I could have that room on the beach again, let alone the spa experience, I would be on the next plane.
But I would bring a few boxes of cereal.
- Cara Chase
