Friday, September 01, 2006
Shoes
My mom reminded me that I haven't told the shoes story yet. Here it is.
When we prepared to go to Jamaica, Scott did a lot of research abut eating. He bragged that he had all his meals planned out, and knew what restaurants he would eat at. I believe there were about 12 to choose from. There was a dress code that wasn't too hard to fulfill. No shorts and t-shirts at supper. Easy. Scott wore pants and golf style shirts. Nowhere did he see mention of shoe dress code.
Early in the trip, I wanted to eat at a secluded garden restaurant. It beckoned me every time I saw it. One night we came to the entry of the Courtyard, expecting to get in. We were refused because Scott's shoes didn't meet standards. That was the first we heard of the shoe dress code. Disappointed, we went to another restaurant for some authentic Jamaican food. That will lead to a story in another blog.
Every day we passed by the Courtyard on numerous occasions. I longed to go there. Near the end of our stay, we were walking past on our way to another restaurant, and saw people lined up to get in. Their shoes weren't up to code. But they got in! We quickly went after them and....we were in! We noticed during the meal that one man who got in with the "right" shoes immediately changed them into beach flip-flops once seated.
Ther restaurant was so beautiful. Scott was given the best view at our table, and we agreed that halfway through dinner we would switch. As soon as we said that we felt a few raindrops. The staff came and started to clear tables our of the garden and set them up in a small conference room. As they came to ours I sat and looked up at them. "I don't mind the rain. We're from Vancouver Canada and it rains all the time. Can we stay here?" It was all I could do not to hold the table desperately as I said it. They told me we had to go in the other room. So we did. Then they drew the curtains and we couldn't even see the garden! When we left 45 minutes later there were no remnants of rain. There weren't enough evenings left in the trip to go back.
The shoe problem wasn't just ours. The second week we were there, every where we went we heard men talking about needing to find some dress shoes or not being able to eat in certain restaurants. It was a hot topic. "I never knew" "Oh, I knew." What kind of shoes did you bring?" "Oh, those will never do." "Sandals aren't allowed unless they're closed toed or leather." So much thought about shoes! We even asked to rent some shoes from one of the staff. Smelly? Who cares. The comfort of the food would wash away all cooties.
When we prepared to go to Jamaica, Scott did a lot of research abut eating. He bragged that he had all his meals planned out, and knew what restaurants he would eat at. I believe there were about 12 to choose from. There was a dress code that wasn't too hard to fulfill. No shorts and t-shirts at supper. Easy. Scott wore pants and golf style shirts. Nowhere did he see mention of shoe dress code.
Early in the trip, I wanted to eat at a secluded garden restaurant. It beckoned me every time I saw it. One night we came to the entry of the Courtyard, expecting to get in. We were refused because Scott's shoes didn't meet standards. That was the first we heard of the shoe dress code. Disappointed, we went to another restaurant for some authentic Jamaican food. That will lead to a story in another blog.
Every day we passed by the Courtyard on numerous occasions. I longed to go there. Near the end of our stay, we were walking past on our way to another restaurant, and saw people lined up to get in. Their shoes weren't up to code. But they got in! We quickly went after them and....we were in! We noticed during the meal that one man who got in with the "right" shoes immediately changed them into beach flip-flops once seated.
Ther restaurant was so beautiful. Scott was given the best view at our table, and we agreed that halfway through dinner we would switch. As soon as we said that we felt a few raindrops. The staff came and started to clear tables our of the garden and set them up in a small conference room. As they came to ours I sat and looked up at them. "I don't mind the rain. We're from Vancouver Canada and it rains all the time. Can we stay here?" It was all I could do not to hold the table desperately as I said it. They told me we had to go in the other room. So we did. Then they drew the curtains and we couldn't even see the garden! When we left 45 minutes later there were no remnants of rain. There weren't enough evenings left in the trip to go back.
The shoe problem wasn't just ours. The second week we were there, every where we went we heard men talking about needing to find some dress shoes or not being able to eat in certain restaurants. It was a hot topic. "I never knew" "Oh, I knew." What kind of shoes did you bring?" "Oh, those will never do." "Sandals aren't allowed unless they're closed toed or leather." So much thought about shoes! We even asked to rent some shoes from one of the staff. Smelly? Who cares. The comfort of the food would wash away all cooties.
// posted by Annette @ 6:37 p.m. 