March break, finally.
11:46 p.m.
Our flight to the D0minican Republic was uneventful, i.e. we arrived safely at our destination, departing M0ntreal in extremely frigid temperatures (I fell in the parking lot on some glare ice while waiting for the shuttle). There was, however, the passenger from hell seated directly behind us, a middle-aged woman who must have started drinking at 6:00 a.m. The flight was late getting away because we were waiting for 40 meals that the caterers hadn’t managed to get on board. She started cursing the airline, cursing the employees, with the most horrible epithets imaginable, and the flight staff removed the nice elderly francophone couple who were seated in her row and found them somewhere quieter to travel.
The window seat in our row was filled late by a boy (it turned out he was 17) who came onboard during that time, who was all ready for the warm weather, wearing a white undershirt (also knows as a “wife beater” [no, I don’t know why either]) and this woman lit into him about being obscenely garbed with another outpouring of colourful language. It was really very annoying. The stewardess was very sympathetic, and the young man was extremely polite. It was only this shrew behind us who made our trip anything but pleasant. Luckily I managed to sleep for quite a bit of it, which helped.
We arrived at our hotel in the early afternoon, a resort of extravagant opulence. I became quite used to it over the next two weeks, but at the very start it seemed excessive. There was a pool with turtles right in the lobby, a pond with five beautiful (albeit insane) pink flamingoes, a raging bullfrog (who croaked at any hour of night or day -- loudly), orchids, birds of paradise, hibiscus and other colourful plants and flowers. It was paradise.
My husband, ever the sportsman, found the tennis facilities, and the pro, and played nearly every day. The resort organized tournaments -- singles and doubles -- and he participated in everything that he was able to.
He also brought along the “campfire” guitar, and spent many hours practicing for an upcoming concert, which meant that I had a lot of time to spend lazing at the pool, reading, working crossword puzzles, dozing, chatting with strangers (although I didn’t do enough of that really) and writing in my journal.
On the first full day we were there, we made our way down to the beach
where we were immediately accosted by one of the natives who convinced me I should get my hair braided. So I did. It was one of the singularly most annoyingly painful experiences (as opposed to truly painful, like when I had my endometrial biopsy) in my life, and I sat there for two and-a-half hours while this woman dug her long thumbnails into my scalp and affixed extensions (just the front part) and pulled my hair so tight I thought I would bleed. It took days before the tightness subsided, but I ended up taking the whole thing apart after a week and a day, finally being overcome by the constant itchiness.
We took advantage of a couple of outings, of course, a trip to the city of Puert0 PIata where we toured the Brugal rum factory (the Ang0stura factory in Trinidad was more interesting, if truth be told), were given an opportunity to purchase amber and larimar (we did in fact buy a necklace of amber beads for me, earrings with both stones for our daughter, and a large chunk of polished amber with a fossilized mosquito therein for my husband), before being whisked off to visit the oldest fort in the western world, San FeIipe.
From there we toured the amber museum where we saw a most famous piece which contained the fossil of a lizard, all of a half-inch long. It was very, very cool.
After lunch they took us to S0sua Beach, which was really very lovely, except that we were bothered every step of the way by hawkers selling their wares. I put on a serene smile, never made eye contact, would nod politely at people, and keep walking. My husband is absolutely too nice a guy to be rude like that, and he kept falling behind as he struggled to get away from aggressive sales people. We ended up renting chaise longues on the beach for a brief time and being bothered by people who wanted to perform services or sell us things.
We also went out on the boat one day so the divers could dive and the snorkelers could snorkel. I did neither, although my husband got all gussied up with scuba gear and had a wonderful time underwater. I have snorkeled before, in Cuba last year, and I found it to be an interesting but not delightful experience, due to my very active gag reflex and dislike of salt water. Besides, I anticipated that I would be seasick, which I in fact was, losing my breakfast (which tasted much better going down than coming up) over the side. I wasn’t the only one. There were quite a few lost lunches on that trip.
The only cable car in the Caribbean is in Puert0 PIata, and that was the last excursion we took. It was amazing, rising up the side of the mountain with only one tower to support the car. The mountain is called Mt. YsabeI de T0rres, after the queen who sent C0lumbus off to discover a passage to India. At the summit is a domed building which was used as a jail, and the dictator of the day built a huge statue of Jesus thereupon so that the townspeople below would not know that there were political criminals being detained in their midst, but would think that there was a church atop the mountain. I don’t know if it worked or not.
It was a really nice trip. I wore SPF 30 to 55 sunscreen the whole time we were there, getting only a little burned from our excursion on the boat, and that on my tummy, part of me that wasn’t otherwise exposed, yet I still managed to get a reasonable tan. The D0minican people are the most beautiful I have ever seen anywhere, being of mixed race. They had beautiful features, straight white teeth (as opposed to Cuba, where the dental displays were horrific), and were so friendly I wanted to take them all home with me. We met people from England, Scotland, Germany and Holland, as well as many, many Canadians and a few Americans. The staff at the hotel, at least the ones who interacted the most with guests, like the entertainment people, were quadri-lingual, speaking in Spanish and repeating everything in English, French and German. The food was fantastic, the evening shows amusing, the facilities very accommodating. There are things I could complain about, but I won’t bother, because they were mere flies in the ointment, easily picked out and disposed of. I can say, though, that I have seen enough nearly naked fat people to last me for a very long time. Oh well, what are you going to do?
I leave you with a photo of the happy couple, as snapped by one of the resort photographers one evening as we were dining fashionably at one of the à la carte restaurants.
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