Up there where the air smells like the coffee plant, where the trees shimmer blue against the midday sun, where parrots can be heard carrying on a conversation. where the voices of the farm workers can be heard as they harvest the coffee beans. Where when it rains the rich soil sticks to your feet as you trod through the underbrush. Where rainbows hang so low you feel like you can reach out and catch them when they fall. Where the air is so crisp and clean it shocks your body at first breath. Where birds sing a melody as peaceful as a Marley song. And when the night fall, you can hear the echo of Rasta drums bouncing off the rolling hill tops. So you sit there quietly consuming the Blue Mountain magic.