Pretty much all that's left is the sign, original from that date and I don't doubt it will disappear soon. It seems they served Italian food as one might expect and the place seems to have done a thriving business for decades.
I used to stop here on my way to and from the mainland, with my previous rescued Labrador, the late Emma, and she would stretch her tired old bones somewhat reluctantly among the flea market stalls that used to clutter up this large open space.
It seems to have been cleared and cleaned up preparatory to a new phase in its life and as sentimental as it sounds I shall miss the extraordinary old sign from Jo Jo's Motel and Luncheonette.
We have new signs promising Pacific delights to those of us with sufficiently robust livers. I cannot imagine how or why, in a world of diminishing energy resources, rum and water need to be imported from a bunch of featureless islands in the South Pacific. Globalization is our mantra. Personally I don't at all mind being stuck with one or other of the delicious rums produced in our own Caribbean back yard. And rainwater from my roof will do fine for me if Fijian water is not available.
From the ridiculous to the sublime.
And then the road opens up and watery vistas once again...
...absorb our attention.
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