Dave and I are very lucky to be staying at a private boutique hotel at the far tip of Negril’s west end cliffs. The Hide Awhile is aptly named. One taxi driver dropping us off here told us it was where movie stars stay, looking to hide from paparazzi.

If anyone deserved paparazzi to be following them around, it is the elegant, silver-haired Italian gay couple staying at the villa beside ours. They are gentlemen with means – incredibly tanned (having been here since December, and will stay one month more) and always casually fashionable (even their swimsuits are fabulous). They have been here so long, they grow their own basil and other herbs for cooking. I love hearing them speak to each other in Italian, the occasional time their voices can be slightly overheard (for they keep to themselves and are very quiet). They bomb around town in their own Fiat 500 (whereas most tourists like Dave and I hail down a taxi every time we want to get around). They could be in a Fellini movie.

We have only spoken once, as they recognized us at the beach. “Francais?” they asked. No, we said (sadly). “Italiano,” they said smiling back at us. I was thrilled they even acknowledged me.

I will never forget our second night here. The resort right beside this property was hosting a wedding, with the loud-thumping hip hop, screaming and annoying DJ on the mike that accompanies such affairs. I couldn’t sleep and was annoyed. Dave and I sat out on our balcony, deciding to watch the ocean while waiting for the party to end.

The italians had the same idea. I watched the taller one walk slowly along the path to the edge of the property by the cliff lookout. All I could really make out was his white shirt and his white hair. The music changed from hip hop to disco. Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. Dave and I laughed and I did a little chair dance. The taller Italian had the same idea in the distance. He began joyfully dancing and swaying back and forth, as his partner walked towards him (also in a white shirt)

For a brief, wonderful moment, I clandestinely watched two white shirts sway and jive to the beat. It brought me great joy, and a moment I will likely always remember.

Who is the paparazzi now?


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