We returned from a short stay at Braco last week. After lurking on this board

for months to pick up tips, I felt it was only fitting to contribute a trip

report.

By way of warning, it is long.

ABOUT US

The wife is 31 and I'm 39, and we are both U.S. citizens. We have a 17-month-old

daughter who stayed at grandma's house for the duration of our trip. We were

looking for a place where we could get away and spend as much time by ourselves

as we wanted (tough to find private moments at home with the little troublemaker

... I mean sweetheart) but with opportunities to interact with other folks when

we wanted to do that. Our travel agent pointed us at Braco, where she had been

more than a dozen times.

We've done a fair bit of traveling over the years, on cruises and to other beach

areas as well as a bunch of major U.S. cities.

By the way, when I called our little girl a troublemaker, I was only kidding.

Kind of.

OUR FLIGHT

Won't bore you with the details of the flight from Philly, only to say I get

more pissed at U.S. Air every time I fly it. I felt really bad for the saps in

front of us, who were somehow suckered into flying from Los Angeles to Jamaica

with a stopover in Philadelphia.

Anyway, we found baggage claim and customs at Montego Bay to be a snap. While

looking for the Super Clubs desk and as the wife used the restroom, I was

approached by a short guy with a wide smile.

"You smoke dope?" he asked. I told him not anymore. He took a look at my ...

uhhh ... slightly generous gut and said, "Oh, a beer mon." Observant fella. He

grinned again and was on his way. This kind of behavior may intimidate and/or

insult some folks, but I was cool with it. Once he received a no he cracked a

joke and left.

The wait for the bus to Braco was about 15 minutes.

THE BUS

I read more than a few horror stories about the bus ride from Mo Bay to Braco on

this and other boards. Even read about people considering flying instead of

taking the bus.

Perhaps we got lucky with good drivers, because we actually enjoyed the rides.

Gave us a chance to check out the scenery. The driver from the airport to Braco

was like a tour guide, pointing out landmarks and telling funny stories over the

PA.

The best one was about Safari Village, which is where the famous

crocodile-jumping scene was filmed in the 1973 film "Live and Let Die." The

driver said, "Of course, it was not the real James Bond who did the stunt, but

the man who owned the farm, Ross Kananga." I didn't have the heart to tell him

that there is no "real" James Bond.

Anyway, including a stop for Red Stripe, the trip to the resort took just over

and hour. Yes, there was plenty of passing on a narrow two-lane road. And yes,

it felt even more uncomfortable for us since they drive on the opposite (wrong)

side in Jamaica. But we encountered much more harrowing bus rides on a trip to

Cancun a few years back.

The only real problem I had was that at 6-foot-4, I struggled for leg room. That

and the asshole sitting behind us on the way back to the airport who kept asking

the driver what we perceived to be demeaning questions. Such as: "If I wanted to

buy property in Jamaica, how would I do it?" And, "How much would an Escalade

cost in Jamaica?"

The driver had great answers. To the first question, he smoothly replied,

"Through a real estate agent." To the second, he said, "I don't know, because

only the resorts and drug dealers can afford them."

On a related note, the wife was surprised by the level of poverty she witnessed

on the way to Braco. I guess in doing research, I kind of braced myself for it.

Not to be too melodramatic, but it should give everyone who visits pause to

consider how fortunate they are.

And to have the decency not to rub their own relative wealth in the noses of

people who were brought up in far more difficult circumstances.

CHECK IN

Literally took us minutes. We were offered rum punch while doing the paper work

and I asked for a Red Stripe instead. Got it very quickly. Actually had to

finish it on the way to our room. Porter was terrific, clueing us in to lots of

stuff.

THE ROOM

At the risk of being politically incorrect, the wife is a gimp. She's had three

surgeries on her left knee in the last dozen or so years and will likely have to

rehab the joint for the rest of her life. Oh, she's a functional gimp, to be

sure. But a gimp just the same.

As such, we requested (through our travel agent) a room close to the pool on the

textile side. And that's what we got. Good thing, too, because I happened to be

recovering from a broken toe myself. It must have been funny watching the two of

us waddle around the resort.

We got a cheap rate, so we had a garden view room. In a word, it was fine. Not

fantastic. But not bad, either. Nice balcony. Clean. The TV sucked, but who goes

to Jamaica to watch TV? Tile floors. High ceiling. Decent bathroom. No fridge.

AC and ceiling fan kept the place cool.

The bed seemed huge. We have a king at home and this mother appeared to be even

larger. The wife is skinny. But with a fat ass like me on hand, the big bed was

a blessing.

I can't speak for the new buildings on the AN side, but the room we stayed in

was not anything close to what we would consider "luxury" accommodations. I

don't say that in a negative way. But rather to warn folks who might have

unrealistic expectations. There were some water marks on the bathroom walls,

some stains on the walls in the room. The entry way was all ripped up for some

sort of minor construction. Just little things.

With all of that said, we most definitely got what we paid for and then some.

The bottom line on these things is value for the buck, and we did not feel

remotely slighted in that area.

In closing on this topic, at the end of every vacation, the wife and I always

come to the realization that we no longer want to spend extra money on fancy

room features. We never spend enough time there to make the proverbial bells and

whistles worthwhile.

DRINKING

It rained our first day at the resort, which seemed to throw everything out of

whack. Since we arrived in the afternoon, we crashed for a bit and then ordered

room service. An hour and a half later -- literally -- our grub and grog

arrived. The order was screwed up, to boot.

I'm a tense bastard most of the time. But I insisted to the wife that I would

tone it down on this vacation. I did just that and I'm glad. We ate and drank

what we received from room service and then crashed for another half hour or so

before getting ready to head out to dinner.

It was beach party night, but due to the rain, everything appeared to be moved

into the Victoria Market. We ate dinner there and they had a really nice spread.

But after hanging for a while, we went looking for some fun.

Unfortunately, the main bar of the resort was closed for renovation. The shindig

in the market was kind of lame and you had to order drinks through the wait

staff. After wandering around a bit, the wife and I sat down on a stool in front

of Nanny's Jerk Pit (which was closed), and I said, "This sucks." Then, like a

message from on high, I heard the angelic sounds of bottles clanking together. I

looked up and saw there was action in the second-floor game room above the main

bar.

We limped up the steps and saw a full bar setup. Ordered a couple of drinks and

headed out to the balcony to kick back on some wicker chairs. It was terrific.

Just about everything from that point on in our trip went well.

The booze is every bit as good as advertised. Top-shelf stuff all over the

place. The drinks mentioned on this board -- dirty banana, humming bird and the

like -- were all great. We drank so many of them that by the third day, my left

leg cramped up (alcohol is dehydrating, for all of you non-drinkers) while

trying to climb aboard a friggin pool float.

Broken toe. Cramped left leg. Half in the bag. Wife who weighs half as much as I

do. I was writing the obituary headline as I went under: "Tall American drowns

in four feet of water." Somehow, I gathered myself, reached the surface and

survived.

The bartenders were great, as well. Unfortunately, they were not always treated

in kind by bombed guests. The first night, a little guy stumbled to the bar and

DEMANDED "Two shots of Jack." At the pool bar the next day, the same dickwad

hassled a female bartender to no end. He was trying to make her eat food he had

gotten from the lunch buffet, saying he was a bartender back home and wanted to

serve her. I understand these folks can get fired if they are seen taking a tip.

I can't imagine eating on the job is tolerated, either.

Another time at the pool bar, a couple of guys kept insisting that the bartender

put more liquor in their drinks, talking down to the woman big time. This kind

of stuff drives me even more nuts than I already am. It made me sick to see good

people being treated poorly.

Fortunately, it appeared to be only a small percentage of the guests who acted

in this manner.

Anyway, the only place where the bar service was awful was in the disco. Didn't

even have a blender there. Everywhere else, it was terrific. Sometimes the bars

were hit with a wave of folks and you had to wait a minute or two. But it was no

big deal. As quickly as they work -- almost all frozen drinks are made from

scratch -- most of the bartenders from this resort could make huge money if they

worked at urban hot spots in the States.

BREAKFAST

Read where some people on the boards were ripping the Victoria Market breakfast

buffet, but we found it to be good. Enough stuff that you do not have to eat the

same thing every day.

The omelet dude was very good. I'm a big wuss about my eggs and always ask that

they are done very dry. This runs counter to the way a classic omelet is made,

and many folks who make them refuse to budge. This guy served them up just as I

asked.

The breakfast menu changed slightly every day, with some local stuff mixed in

with the classics. Again, we thought it worked out well. Not perfect (we

encountered some wicked bacon one morning), but overall a thumbs-up.

LUNCH

We did lunch one day at the market buffet and it was decent, too. After that, we

typically did different things at lunch time. The wife has a sweet tooth, so

she'd get a few items from the bakery. I love hot stuff. The chicken from the

Jerk Pit was sensational. The sauce was smoking. If you don't like hot stuff,

request only a bit of the sauce. If, like me, you are a fire-eater, ask them to

smother your food with the sauce.

The service at the pit was not up to par. But considering the people who were

making the food were working in an area where it must have been 120 degrees,

they get a pass here.

DINNER

Our TA was nice enough (and had enough pull) to make reservations at the french

and Japanese places in advance.

Piacere is the french place and it was outstanding in every way. Seven courses,

each better than the last. The service was tremendous. Everything was done just

right. The only extremely minor flaw I noticed was that our waiter had to pull

double duty as the sommelier and the wine flowed a tad slowly.

I don't want to ruin it for anyone who hopes to be surprised by what they find

at Piacere, but do not be afraid to try different things.

Fellas, you will look like a dolt if you show up at this establishment in

anything less than a jacket, golf shirt, nice pants and shoes. I went with a

jacket and dress shirt sans tie and did not feel out of place. In case you

forget a jacket, a guy next to us showed up without one and they offered him a

loaner.

Ladies, any kind of nice dress or pant suit works just fine.

I was little bit leery about Muna Hana, the Japanese place, because I'm allergic

to shellfish and don't really like vegetables. But we both found it to be a

great experience.

The food was very good, with beef and chicken options to get me through. The

presentation was Benihana-style, with four couples around a grill. The chef

chops stuff up and serves it to you. The knife skills of the lady who cooked for

us were rudimentary at best. I think she was in training. But it was still fun

to watch and the food was good.

We were joined by one couple from Russia. The man spoke very little English, the

woman none. This made for some interesting conversations, since our waiter was

new and had a very thick Jamaican accent. As he attempted to explain the menu,

the six Americans at the table had to listen closely to understand what he was

saying. The Russians did not get anything.

This made for the funniest moment of our entire trip. As the waiter was

attempting to explain the entrees, the Russian fella was trying say that he and

his lady only wanted sushi and sashimi, the raw stuff. The waiter was not

getting his drift. Then the American woman next to the Russian couple tried to

help. She began repeating the waiter's words, but very slowly, like she was

speaking to a child, to the Russians.

"Whhaaaaaaaatt dooooooooo yoooooooou waaaaaaant aaaaaaaaasssss aaaaaaannnn

eeeeeennnnntreeeeee?"

I thought the guy should have replied in equally slow Russian to see how she

reacted.

Anyway, the food was very good and the wife and I were both happy we went.

Dress was a bit less formal for guys. Golf shirts, long pants and shoes were the

order of the day.

As an aside, there is a sushi bar at the restaurant, but there are a limited

number of seats and you have to make specific reservations for that area. Our

dinners came with a sampler platter of pre-made sushi and sashimi, but in the

spirit of de-tente we turned it over to the Russians since we knew they really

wanted it.

Victoria Market offered a buffet dinner with some good food and some not so

good. On the night we went, the wife enjoyed the grilled shrimp and I liked the

ribs, which seemed to be braised. She loved the tomato and fresh mozzarella. We

tried some beef deal, however, which was horribly chewy, like leather taffy.

Only did this one night.

La Pasta, the Italian place, had a salad bar that the wife really enjoyed. I

make pizza from scratch at home and as such am a tough critic. But the pie we

split for dinner one evening was legit. The only problem we had was that they

seemed to have trouble getting the toppings right. When we ordered sausage one

night, we got ground beef. When we ordered Genoa salami for lunch one afternoon,

we got sausage. We spotted the Russians there once and wondered if they figured

out the secret ordering code. The lunch pie seemed like it came on a pre-made

shell. But it all tasted good.

The only dinner theme night we had a chance to really enjoy was Street Party.

This was very good. All sorts of food and everything we tried -- from stewed

oxtail to raw sugar cain -- was enjoyable. This was really a fun time.

PARTY TIME

We had a short stay, so we missed the toga party. It rained on the night of the

beach party, so we essentially missed that.

We did attend the pajama party, which was fun. The wife wore a two-piece nighty

and felt overdressed. Skimpy one-piece deals seemed to be the most popular. I

wore boxers and a T-shirt and fit in as well as someone as big and ugly as me

can. Drinks were difficult to get at the disco bar, and it had no blender, so I

took to slipping outside to the street bar and then coming back into the party.

Funny how you don't give a shit about walking around in your underwear when

other folks are doing it, too.

As I mentioned earlier, the street party was a good time. But it was more of an

eating extravaganza than a party scene.

We also stopped by the '70s party at the disco the night before we left. It

sucked and we left after about five minutes.

CALLING HOME

We brought a Sam's Club ATT card and it did not work. I pressed it with an ATT

"supervisor" I managed to track down and she said the company no longer allowed

the card I had to be used from Jamaica due to problems with fraud. I told her

that's bullshit, that the instructions on the card clearly state it can be used

for international calls and there is no mention of limitations. She told me to

take it up with the people who print the cards.

I lost.

SHOPPING

Shops were OK. But we found the rum to be MUCH cheaper at the airport on the way

home. Also, from this big-ass perspective, it was difficult to find any XXL

stuff.

The folks selling crafts down near the beach were fun. They were open to

negotiation, which is always a challenge. We landed a magnificent wooden turtle

ash tray for the mother-in-law -- including a special message carved on the

bottom -- for $12. Not a bad tradeoff for a week's worth of baby-sitting.

We did not stray from the resort during our time there and as such did not

change out our money. It was not a problem, as the shops and beach vendors both

accepted American currency (and had change).

BEACH

We only checked out the beach on the textile side, and did not like what we

found. Be advised, we are not water sports types. When we go to the beach, we

like to mess around in the waves and hang out on smooth sand. The textile side

did not lend itself to this. We did not see more than a handful of people

futzing around in the ocean in such a manner while we were there.

This is another area where we knew what we were getting into ahead of time, so

it was no problem. On the textile side, at least, the beach area was clearly set

up for people who wanted to snorkel, scuba and such.

POOLS

First a warning. Bring lots of sunscreen. We were very white before we went and

used spf 30. It worked well. But the floats and chairs tend to rub it off, so

reapply often or risk funky burn marks.

In our effort to spend time apart from society, we found a little nook in the

textile pool and hung out there. We were just to the right of the pool bar,

around the bend from where the games were being played. Spent most of the time

drifting about on floats. It was extremely relaxing. We loved it. Drinks were

within short paddling range yet we were in relative seclusion.

The only thing we did not like was that they kept playing the same songs over

and over. Reggae is great, but there must be more than eight songs done in that

style.

Pool towels were at a premium. So we began stopping by the pool before breakfast

every morning to pick up a few and then keeping them with us until we returned.

Like all resorts, deck chairs were an issue. Some people would come down first

thing in the morning, put towels on the chairs, then go do something else until

coming back early in the afternoon. I've never been one to go for this staking a

claim bullshit, whether on a cruise or at a hotel. Where would it all lead?

Leaving towels on chair the previous night so no one will take "your" chair.

My philosophy: If you are anywhere in the pool area, you can claim chairs by

leaving your stuff there. Don't want to risk leaving your stuff, no chair. As

such, on a couple of occasions we (OK, I) simply tossed the "saving" towels in

hostile chair takeovers.

When we slipped into the pool once, a woman came and tried to sneakily reclaim

her chair, even though my stuff was on it. I very nicely pointed out that my

stuff -- which included a pair of size 13 flip-flops that could have passed for

pool floats -- was there. She put up a small argument, but seeing my massive

frame quickly backed off. If only she knew about the broken toe and waiting

cramp, and that she could have drowned me in a second.

We were curious about the AN pool, but held off. The wife has a C-section scar

about which she's a tad sensitive. I'm ugly with my clothes on, and I believe it

gets worse in direct correlation to the number of garments I remove. So we spent

all of our time in the textile pool until...

...our final morning. We went to breakfast in pool gear covered by T-shirts,

hoping to get the most time in the sun we could before leaving, figuring we

would arrive at the pool before most of the chairs claims were staked. After

eating, however, we talked about taking the AN plunge, figuring it would be a

while until we had a chance to do it again. After thinking it over a bit, the

boss -- I mean the wife -- said, "what the hell?"

So we limped over to the AN side, found a couple of chairs (no one was saving

them anywhere), dropped our drawers, applied the all-important spf 30 sunscreen

to the proper areas, grabbed a couple of floats and headed for the water. En

rout, I asked the wife if she thought they disinfected the floats every night

(think about it).

The pool was tremendous. And none of our worst fears came to light (you know,

sunburn, snickers from the crowd, unexpected excitement). It was actually pretty

fun, something we're glad we tried and will probably do again next time we visit

GLB.

IN CONCLUSION

Speaking of visiting Braco again, it is something we discussed often while

there. Would we or wouldn't we? Seemed the longer we stayed, the more we liked

it and the more we thought about returning.

There was a time when I loved going to different places and setting up all of

the dinner reservations at different restaurants and party times at different

bars. But now that I'm getting up in age, with so many family AND work

responsibilities, there is definitely something to be said for the timesaving

all-inclusive approach.

Braco offers nice rooms, excellent food (overall), fun parties and a good

swimming pool setup. We avoided a lot of the group stuff -- games at the pool,

ocean activities and such -- to spend time with each other, so I can't comment

critically on that. The trip to and from the airport was actually fun.

Jamaica is a terrific country and the people we encountered were largely

fantastic. Most of the guests were great, too. They came in all shapes, sizes

and colors (one had the world's largest mullet -- cool) and most everyone got

along. We even broke bread with the Russians -- figuratively, at least. More

accurately, we ate raw fish with them.

The bottom line is the trip gave the wife and I a chance to reconnect to each

other in so many ways and have a blast while doing it. With that in mind, I'm

sure we will return some day.

As soon as the little troublemaker ... I mean angel ... allows it.