Do go chasing waterfalls

We hired a car and drove from Montego Bay to Ocho Rios today to go and climb Dunns River waterfalls.
It took about 1hour 45mins to get there and was a hilarious journey of non-stop horns, cars swerving all over the road, undertaking, overtaking and locals trying to sell us stuff.
Within minutes of arriving at Dunns River one of the locals jumped on us trying to persuaded us to buy two small, hand-carved, wooden people.
Before we could say 'no thanks' he (Anthony) had carved Jessika "be happy, don't worry" on one. And Jimmy "No problem mon" on the other.
He told us to "love each other, stand by each other but more importantly don't forget the jiggy jiggy." Before carving four lines on each for love, peace, respect and prosperity.
We handed over 3000 Jamaican dollars (£24) and went on our merry way with a wooden man and woman, and a traditional Jamaican necklace.

The two hand-carved figures, now engraved with our names

The waterfalls were amazing. Spectacular and scary. The water was flowing rapidly and the rocks were really slippy. We climbed to the top, swam in the whirl pools and went back to the bottom to do it all over again.


Jimmy getting excited half way up the water fall

We drove through the town of Ocho Rios on the way home, past all the small, shack-like bars\ restaurants, roadside sellers selling coconuts, bananas, other local fruit and huge stems of aloe vera.


A beauty salon we past driving on the way back to the hotel

Our butler, H-bomb, organised a romantic picnic for us which he'd packed into the boot of the car - salmon and tuna sandwiches, cakes and champagne. It was a great end to the day. The evening ended on a slushy note. We arrived back to our room after dinner, a bit drunk on rum 'n coke and Dirty Banana cocktails, to find the bed covered in petals and orchids placed in a heart shape.
The butlers were definitely giving my boyfriend a run for his money.


I'd love to come home to this every day :-)



Island life

We headed over to the private off-shore island today.

It's rustic, everything is made from the natural island materials. Beautiful lanterns were hanging everywhere, bamboo and palm leaf umbrellas and wooden, four-poster love-shacks with white curtains and a double bed.
There was also a nudist beach, a swimming pool and a jacuzzi.
Oh, and a parrot named Diana, after Princess Di (obviously, eh?)
A fat, naked American man gave us some bread (as well as an eyeful, a very burnt eyeful) so we spent an hour snorkeling with barracuda and sting rays before heading back to the main island.


The handmade shack where lunch is served 



Parasole and lanterns made out of local materials



Four poster cabanas on the private island



Swim up pool bar...

 

Statue that welcomes you to island life

Early morning Sunrise.

The jet-lagged kicked in a 5am today.
After lying in bed for half an hour, trying to get back to sleep, we decided to knock it on the head and get up to see the sunrise. Which was utterly beautiful.
And we spotted a local fisherman (see bottom picture) dancing in the morning sun. Perfect start to the day.

Everyone's smiling

After only a few hours in Jamaica it's obvious why all the locals are constantly laughing, playing pranks on each other and smiling from ear to ear.
It's beautiful, blazing sunshine at 9am and a infectious chilled out, laid back vibe.



Our private beach

On our first dip in the sea we meet Skinny Man. A local who rides around the waves on a surfboard, with paddles, selling stuff to tourists. By 'stuff' I don't mean the usual tourist souvenirs sunglasses, hats, CDs - more like weed, hash, cocaine etc.
He sells carved wooden souvenirs too, in a bid to fool the middle aged, conservative Americans.
We've already spotted a number of guests reading the bible on the beach or other religious books such as "God will teach you to forgive."
Despite the naughtiness of Skinny's 'souvenirs' he's cool, and full of banter. He supports Man U and spends 8 hours every day in the sea. He has no front teeth. He also tells blatant lies, we worked this out quickly. But he's good comedy value.



Skinny Man doing his thing

We spent the whole day sunbathing, swimming and snorkeling. Our second butler Ellis (forgot to mention we have two butlers now, I know, I know! Ellis and H-bomb do 1\2 day shifts each) dropped off a cool box of beers to us on our sun loungers, around noon. He later brought cocktails and snacks too. It's safe to say I love this place. 

Us relaxing on a swing with Dirty Banana cocktails and Red Stripe

It still feels really weird having someone do everything for us. However, Ellis and H-Bomb are both really (genuinely) happy and keep telling us how much they love their job - so we try and stop being so typically English and polite.


Our second butler Ellis, the super smiley dude...

There's an American couple next to us on the beach who are ordering the world off their butler. I'm surprised they're not using him as a footstool.
There's and abundance of Americans at the resort. They're loud, brash, self involved and pretty intolerable. Their whiny, elongated twang is as annoying as the peacock who's woken us up both mornings so far at 5.30am with his mating call and general racket.


one of the many peacocks at the resort

Penthouse. WTF? Butler seriously WTF?

Just arrived at Sandals The Royal Caribbean in Montego Bay...it's gorgeous, a long winding driveway down to a spectacular looking building.
We're greeted with champagne and rum punch. After a couple more glasses of champagne we're told our butler will be along shortly.
Butler. Me and Jimmy look at each other wide eyed, obviously trying to keep it cool. "Did she just say butler?!"
Moments later he arrived and introduces himself, "What's up friends. I'm Hugo. But you can call me H or H-bomb."


H-bomb with me and my boyfriend Jimmy.

Obviously we'll be calling him H-bomb from now on.
He takes our cases (he wouldn't let us go anywhere near them) and says with a killer smile "right we're off to the Penthouse."
We assumed he was kidding. Obviously. As if we'd be in the penthouse.

Five minutes later we're inside the penthouse.
A huge, decadent room with mirrors everywhere, a mahogany framed four-poster bed draped in white cotton, a luxurious Roman style tiled bathroom with huge jacuzzi bath, walk in shower and his and hers basins.
There's two massive plasma flat screen TVs at each end of the room, an Ipod dock and a bar with a bottle of champagne, two bottles of white and red wine and a collection of spirit bottles, rum, brandy, vodka etc.
"Help yourself to anything, seriously anything," beams H-bomb. "It's free, you drink it, I'll replace it. You wanna have a party, Jamaica's the place to do it."
"I've brought you some sandwiches and cheese and biscuits, they're in the fridge", he adds.
We both just look at him gob smacked.
He takes us on the balcony, which is huge. Big sofa bed on one side and table and chairs on the other.
"You can see the sunset from here," he tell us. "If you want a candle-lit, sunset dinner any night I'll set it up for you on the balcony. No problem man."
Wow.
We could also see the waves, white sand and moonlit swimming pools.
I felt really overwhelmed, extremely drunk (he immediately opened another bottle of champagne) and very happy\ lucky.
He told me, "You're the most excited customer I've seen. You're gonna have any amazing stay, I'm here do to anything for you."
He tells us he's already booked us into the posh looking French restaurant in the hotel, telling me in his thick Jamaica twang, "put a nice dress on Princess, it's that kinda place."

H-bomb arranges to meet us at 8pm to escort us to dinner, but first he's off to buy us some cigarettes. He insists, we argue we can go ourselve, he's doesn't take no for an answer, so we curiously accept, despite it feeling a bit weird.
We put Jack Johnson on the Ipod, took the champagne to the balcony and start jumping up and down on the spot, trying to stifle our excited shrieks.
We've struck it lucky...


The balacony



the room



Bathroom



Goodbye London, hello Jamaica

Excitement woke me up two hours before my alarm this morning.
Setting my alarm at 8.20am on a Saturday was already worryingly early. (I'm a lie in bed until noon kinda girl).
However 5.30am me and my boyfriend Jimmy were wide awake charged with excitement about our Caribbean adventure.
We got to Gatwick an hour before the flight, slightly panicking. But still like excitable kids on a school trip.
We completely underestimated how long it would take to get to airport, then took too long buying books\ snacks. The usual capers. Most of our friends know how useless we are at being on time and organised. A couple of glasses of red wine into the flight it started getting really rowdy on the back three rows.
A group of Irish friends, about 12, were getting stuck into the free booze. Shouting, swearing, cackling, jumping over chairs, pushing each other.
All the surrounding seats were now empty as everyone had asked to be moved. One elderly lady looked like she was going to cry. Thirty minutes later the pilot announced someone had been smoking in the toilet and put the whole flight in danger. People were panicking and getting angry.
Police will now be waiting when we arrive in Montego Bay.
Moment later alcohol is banned as everyone's to rowdy. There's still five hours to go.

We arrived at airport, get escorted into a VIP Sandals lounge, our bags are taken away and replaced with two ice cold Red Stripes and we're told our chauffeur will be ten minutes. Our chauffeur arrived, tells us to get two more beers and get in the back. Two minutes into the drive he says, "so you guys wanna smoke back there? You wanna buy some weed? Everyone in Jamaica has a smoke, put a smile on your face. You're here to have fun." It's obvious, instantly, we're gonna love this holiday.

Showbiz nuggets

I have a few moments spare as I'm still in the office waiting for my showbiz column to be subbed.

So there's some interesting snippets going on in the showbiz world to wet your juices.

Firstly Paris Hilton is gunning for an invite to the Royal Wedding at the end of April.

This is the empted-headed star who declared: “Princess Diana is my idol” before trying to pull Prince William.

I don’t blame Paris for trying but really, why on earth would Big Will and Kate Middle-of-the-range invite her to their special day?

Unless they wanted to film it for a reality TV show, of course.

Or get some tips on their Wedding night DVD… arf, arf. 

Two years ago Paris meet Big W for the first time and promptly said: “I'd be more than happy to date you as long as you ditched the mousy girlfriend.”

Brash.

However, in true brainless style she whinnied: “I couldn’t believe how awesome and hot he was”.

That carry on deserves an invite if you ask me. 

Meanwhile newly engaged Sarah Harding and Tom Crane prove once again why maybe they’re not singing from the same hymn sheet.

Party animal Sarah is planning a wild hen night in Las Vegas while Tom is having a traditional country gentleman stag weekend.

My friend in the know revealed: “Maybe they work well together because they’re so different. Sarah wants a raucous girlie weekend in Sin City, while Tom wants a country gentleman weekend of fishing, shooting, hunting etc.”

Meanwhile, here are their dreams of the perfect wedding...

Tom says: “I want an old-fashioned English wedding, something subtle, the full top and tails malarky” while Sarah says: “ I’d love to have it in a Gothic castle and show my dark side, I want everything to be dark."
That could be awkward?

In other news

Janice Dickinson jumped into bed with Victoria Beckham.

Well, she accosted her on a flight to LA, where poor Posh has little choice but to pout and bear it.

Wacky motor mouth Janice said: “Posh is beautiful. I saw her on a first-class flight I went over with a glass of wine, a seductive, and got into bed with her.”

As you do.

She took time out of stalking Posh Spice to slag off Jordan.

Saying: “People don’t know her in America. She couldn’t act her way out of a paper bag, her lips and tits would get in the way. She looks like a beached tuna.”

And to round of a batty day on the showbiz hot desk Gary Lineker’s wife Danielle missed the beginning of a Calendar Girls performance last week, as she was stuck in the toilet with the runs.

I kid you not.

She revealed: “I went AWOL at curtain call, the crew were running around in chaos trying to find me. I was trapped in the ladies. I had a curry the night before and was stuck in a cubicle with Vindaloo’s revenge.”

I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Sunshiiiiine, dead animals and Finley Quaye

Everyone gets fired up when the sun rears it's beautiful, beaming face.
Including me.
Yesterday was the first day, for months, that the sun was out in full force. And within minutes London regained happy equilibrium once again.
As I started spring cleaning, yep I'm morphing into my mum, I turned up the tunes (Finley Quaye, obviously), hung out the washing and watched my cat chase flies in the garden.
Normal free-spirited life has resumed.
Hopefully my low levels of enthusiasm, which appear during dank, winter months, will depart my life.
 

While eating poached eggs on toast in the garden (it probably wasn't that warm, but I'm a Brit) I decided to re-do the bathroom.
I've never installed a new sink, or in fact ripped out an old one, but it can't be that hard? Surely?
I’ve inherited my Dad's stubbornness so there's no way I'm paying someone else to do it.
I managed to plumb in a washing machine, on my Jack Jones, earlier this year.
DIY is a new challenge, my new poison.
While Finley was booming out my Ipod and my boyfriend was mowing the lawn all was well, until we came across a dead rabbit under the BBQ.
The poor thing was half eaten and seriously mangled.
I looked at my cat... who was happily chewing a blade of grass. She couldn't murder a rabbit, could she?
We hoped it was a wild rabbit killed by a fox.
But the reality was it was black and white (wild rabbits are usually brown) and we've never seen a fox in the garden or the street.
Oh God, my cat is a part of the cat mafia and stole a pet rabbit as a symbolic warning threat.
She's part of a criminal feline underworld. And as a London city cat, she would have a top ranking.
A Don.
My cat Cariad is pretty badass she once caught a crow bigger than herself, and she's been known to catch a shifty few squirrels.

My boyfriend suggested we cut off the rabbit's foot or good luck. I think, hope, he was joking.
Anyway, how did I digress from spirit-soaring sunshine to murderous Mafia killings?
Sorry.

Allow me to be smug, just for a while

This time next week I'll be boarding a plane to Jamaica, in possession of a good book, my ever faithful eye mask, some sweets and my Ipod.
Oh and my partner in crime /fellow free-spirited one (boyfriend Jimmy).


This is where we'll be hanging out

I've spent the last few hours getting giddy with excitment about what lies ahead.
We're staying in Montego Bay and already can't wait to get on the beach, sample traditional rum, down some Red Stripe, dance to Reggae, eat curried goat/ jerk chicken, have a laugh with the local Rastafarians etc.
Heaven on earth... or as the locals say 'no problem mon'.




Our nearest beach bar



Rum cocktails

Enough said.

Late night Curry on Brick Lane

So I've been back from LA now for over a week. Still feeling jet lagged and worn out. What a dullard.

I went for my first ever curry on the notorious Brick Lane on Friday night.
It was a fun experience, I love the way all the restaurant owners haggle with you in the street.
Each standing outside their own entrance, protecting their turf.

After fighting off the first few restaurant owners (we wanted to get further than just two meters into curry paradise) we sucummed to a very persuasive man.
We offered us two free drinks each and £10 all in menu. Sold, to the pushy man waving menus in our faces.

The lads, per usual, each ordered a Madras, soon to find out, as usual, it was too hot to eat.
But boys will be boys,
And one of the lads even said: "You're not a man if you can't handle a hot curry."
He clearly didn't think about that one.

We then ventured off down Brick Lane to a dingy boozer before ending the night in Hoxton Square.
Good times.



It didn't take long for the Jagermeister shots to come out.



At the Hoxton Hotel before the night got rowdy

The Oscars aftermath... Day Eight

Bizarrely on my last day in LA I had breakfast with a life coach.
I was sat in my hotel restaurant alone and so was she, so we sat together. People outside of London are nice to each other, so this didn't actually feel that weird.

It was an eye opening / ear bending but pretty cool experience.
I think if I stayed in Los Angeles much longer I'd get royally sucked in to all the parallel living nonsense.

Wendy (the life coach) left me with this little nugget of wisdom, "It's all about seeing the vision of your future Jessica and accepting it's presence".  Er, OK.

If I stayed another week I'd be coming back to Blighty with a face pumped with Botox, new boobs, a personal psychic, a mild eating disorder, super white veneers, a wheat intolerance and a pathetically small dog.

Luckily, for my boyfriend, six hours later I was boarding a flight home.

I had a fair well lunch with my LA friends at the Chateau Marmont, then headed to the airport full of calamari and Prosecco …great combination.
In the Chateau was Eva Longoria, Meg Matthews and Jade Jagger.
So annoying to have celebs at your finger tips and not be able to do anything about it.

Oh well.
Next year I think I’d just stay at home in London with a bottle of wine, a takeaway and watch it on my telly.
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, as it was an amazing experience, but the jet lag and frustration of not being able to do my job probably seriously took it’s toll.

Amen.

Oscars day...Day Seven

The day of the Oscars….dun dun dun.

I was staying on Sunset Boulevard which means I was literally in the hub of everything happening.

There were film crews, transmission trucks, glamourous TV news reporters everywhere.

There was also a man dressed as Jesus wandering around blessing everyone with “love and gratitude”. Only in LA.

Here's a quick run down on what happened on Oscar night…

Anna Hathaway was a brilliant host, which was quite surprising for all. She revealed her secret weapon was to “change my dress as often as possible, so people pay more attention to what I’m wearing than my nerves.”

Leonardo DiCapro plans to move in on Russell Brand’s older woman Helen Mirren revealing: “Id love to work with Helen, she’s an amazing actress and seems fun. I’m gonna try and get it sorted tonight.”

Florence Welch gushed: “I'm so excited, I never dreamt I’d be in Hollywood at the Oscars doing a duet with Sir Elton John.”

After scooping best actress Natalie Portman admitted she will not be calling her unborn baby Oscar saying: “That’s really funny, no one’s asked me that yet, but no, there’s absolutely no change I will choose Oscar. We can stop that rumour, right now.”

Russell Brand has officially turned his back on his rock n roll routes. He proudly brought his Mum to the Oscars instead of wife Katy Perry.

Scarlett Johansson admitted: “The ceremony’s so long people sneak food into the theatre, I know it’s not very glamorous but it’s true”

And Gwyneth Paltrow shocked everyone by announcing she wants to turn her talents to hip-hop. “I would love to do a duet or collaboration with Jay Z," she said, "he’s a genius and I’m a massive fan.”

The after party everyone wanted to go to was at the Vanity Fair party…which looked like this from outside our hotel.

Still no signs of Cheryl Cole….

Oscars Eve...Day six

We started the day with a quick drive up to see the Hollywood sign in the hills and had a general cruise around Melrose Avenue and Beverly Hills

in our Beetle. The sun was out, so naturally the roof had to come down. Come on, we’re Brits abroad after all.

Me and my column mate Sonja attended the Golden Raspberry Awards in Los Feliz on the evening.
It was the biggest waste of time imaginable. Not one celeb, seriously not one.

Not to worry tomorrow is the big Oscars day.

Los Feliz is cool though. A compact bohemian area about 15 minutes out of town.
Littered with men sporting beards, tattoos and old skool Adidas jackets, hanging around in quirky bars with their Mac books.

We met our LA based showbiz journo pal Nadia and whipped out our laptops over some tea... Chamomile and honey to be precise.



Nadia, Me and Sonja



Day Five

The day of the OK! USA Oscar party.
I was feeling a bit hacked off with life. Waiting around for hours for celebrities and getting nothing is frustrating.
So to re-evaluate my life I went, on my own, to Mel’s Diner.
The perfect American fast food joint,
A drive-in diner, where each table has it’s own juke box and everything comes with a side of fries.
I seriously love this place, no showbiz glamour, no drama, no paps, just chill time and good food. Their breakfast pancakes are out of this world.

Well, this is what I thought until Katie Price turned up with her son Harvey, thinking exactly the same as me. A place to escape.

It amused me to think most of Tinsletown were probably preparing for flashy pre-Oscars parties by getting their hair/ nails preened while drinking champagne and eating posh food.
Meanwhile Jordan and I were chowing down fast food in a slap up diner. Classy.


Gotta love the personal juke box

There was a road block outside the OK! Party and everyone was struggling to get inside, luckily as I work for the same company (Daily Star is part of the Express Newspapers Group, as is OK!) I breezed straight in.

I spent a while chatting to Amir Khan (above), Ricky Whittle, Mel B and then finally in waltz Jordan.

She wasn’t “flirting outrageous", “groping” or “snogging” Amir Khan as was reported in all the newspapers days later.

In fact it was a very low key affair. They probably spoke to each other for three minutes. If that. Before he left for the night. Some newspaper reporters really are a bit sloppy. Just saying.


At the bash with my friend Nadia




Day Four

I sat around in The Beverly Hilton lobby for two and a half hours waiting for Sly Stallone and Matt Damon to come out of a charity dinner they were hosting.

Don’t get me wrong, there could be worse places to wait, it was posh, had a Starbucks in the lobby and random C list celebs were wandering around (mainly just famous people’s wives and other media types).

But after waiting that long to chat to Sly or Matt, it was pretty soul destroying to find out they’d left an hour earlier, through a private back entrance.

Some days this job seriously sucks.

Before getting disgruntled and downhearted we drove over to The Sunset Marquis where Cheryl Cole was residing with her bed buddy Derek Hough.
We had dinner, a few cocktails and waited for a recognisable Geordie twang to bounce off the walls.
Cheryl never appeared, according to the bartender she'd spent over 48 hours hidden away in her bungalow…no-one had seen or heard of her since she arrived.

I did find out that Kings Of Leon front man Caleb always checks into LA hotels with a saucy fake name, so fans can't hassle him. He checks in under Dixie Enormous, and quite rightly, he finds it hilarious

Day Three

We hired a convertible Beetle and took a drive out to Santa Monica to check out Muscle Beach and Venice Beach.
It wasn't just a beach jolly though, we heard Gwyneth Paltrow, who was singing at the Oscars ceremony, had just checked into posh 5star hotel Shutters On The Beach.

However, after a few hours we realised Gwynnie was nowhere to be seen.

We did, of course, spend some well deserved time rubber necking sexy, buff men, working out topless on Muscle beach. It's impossible not to look. Come on.

men pumping iron in the sunshine

We walked the entire stretch of the beach (took over two hours) while gawping like tourists at all the different people - LA is full of eccentrics and weirdos. 

There was homeless people everywhere, looking ultra chilled out in the sunshine. Smoking weed and drinking 'liquor' out of brown paper.bags,

Travellers trying to sell anything and everything. Joss sticks, paintings, palm readings, wood carvings and so on.

One budding entrepreneur caught my attention straight away. A young punk who had a board around his neck with “Kick my butt for $1” written on it.

Never before had I contemplated hurting someone for my own pleasure, let alone pay for the privilege.
But I have to admitt, I was very tempted.
Who wouldn’t pay a mere 50p to boot someone in the ass? For a laugh?
I refrained though, in the light of day, it seemed a tad harsh.

walking our friends dog Killer.

Day Two

After hearing Katie Price had arrived Stateside for the we went on a wee mission to track her down.
Didn't take long.
First stop The Ivy (a up-market, not as posh as you’d expect, quaint restaurant in Beverly Hills) A bona fide celeb hangout.
Luckily, considering we're not celebrities, and hadn't booked a table, we managed to get a seat a few tables away from Kate and her crew.
Our LA mate asked the maître’d if there was an "opening" for lunch? This code word seemed to work.  
So we waltzed in.
After spending far too much one just three salads, we grabbed Jordon as she left the restaurant, surrounded by a merciless mob of paparazzi braying for the big dollar shot.


Jordan looked really demure, for a change

She looked scared telling us: "It's mental and a bit scary, I really can't stop, I'm jet lagged, been up since 4am and I have to deal with this crap."

It was an eye-opener to see how she lives her life, even in a country where she's not that well known.
She looked genuinely intimated by the wolfish pack shouting and pushing to get a piece of her.

We spent the evening at another affirmed celebrity haunt The Chateau Marmont.
Despite swarming with celebs, this is one of my favourite places in LA.
It's trendy and oozes showbiz charm but is so chilled out. The architecture is magnificent inside and out.
It's hedonistic, glamourous and definitely a place for the A list to get their kicks in private.



Rhys Ifans was working his magic on Anna Friel in the garden area (the best area to chill, and it’s heated) snogging in full view of everyone.
How does he punch so far above his weight? First Sienna Miller… surely it can’t solely be his Welsh charm?
Annoying thing about the Tinseltown celeb watering holes is staff are like mini Hitler’s regarding discretion.
If you even pull out a camera, you get kicked out. And barred.



Not easy for a showbiz journalist reporting on celebrity comings and goings.

Me , Amy and her dog Killer



Arriving in LA for The Oscars

OK, so the plan was to blog every day in LA and keep you informed on the showbiz shenanigans across the pond in Tinsletown.

Er, well...
Jet lagged kidnapped me for the first few days, then the party scene kicked off, work got a bit crazy and in short,  I had no time to write.

So, as the saying goes...'better late than never'. Here's a recap of how the week in La La land panned out.

Day One
Jet lag woke me up at 7am...(as the week went on this proved to be a daily re-occurrence...much to my annoyance).
Went to my first ever red carpet event in Hollywood...The Global Green awards at Avalon nightclub (a favourite of Paris Hilton).
I was expecting big things. After all this is Hollywood and surely their red-carpet has to be the best in the land.
I was promised to interview the likes of Orlando Bloom, Jim Carey, Hayden Panettiere.
None of the aforementioned turned up. It was like a who's who's of the American Z list...and being a Brit I had no freaking idea who anyone was.
I did meet a curious, peace loving tree-hugger who I had a lengthy conversation with based around the vacuous showbiz world....bizarrely, that was the highlight of my night.
Also taxi was $52 on way from hotel to event and $12 on the way back....hmm think the first cabbie smelt a tourist.