Photos from Dominican Republic trip – part 1

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We woke up the first morning to this view.

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Our room

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Swords at the museum

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Katie in the water

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Katie took this lizard pic – only saw one other lizard that colour.

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More beach at the Barcelo Capella

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Beach at Saona Island. The water was an unbelievable colour. The whole day was like living in a dream.

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The cave at Tres Ojos

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A turtle which came and checked us out at Tres Ojos cave

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This woodpecker came out in the rain and had a meal next to our hotel room.

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Look, I’m having fun in the water at the Barcelo Capella.

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Exceedingly cool mural detail from the National Pantheon in la Zona Colonial in Santo Domingo

home again home again

I will mention with great brevity how the return trip was fourteen different shades of dark horrible in terms of discomfort (but not safety or efficacy) and then mention that in practical terms, I have to spend today with my feet up. I didn’t get swelling of the ankles like this during a summer pregnancy in Toronto; I can barely get into the most comfy shoes I have. Since nothing else has happened to me except my return, I’ll leave it at that. I’ll post pics once I crop the best ones.

last impressions

This morning, Miriam funnelling Bloody Marys into Katie at Las Carambolas, our favourite bar at the resort (I stuck with beer). Last night, lightning flashes in the distance around 1 am when we emerged from the disco.  A night heron who posed for us, but who, when we first saw him, appeared to be mesmerised by the music coming out of the disco (he was actually using the lights to hunt crabs).  I walked up to him slowly and he ran like the hammers for the water but did not consider taking off.  Then he came back and eyed the moths longingly. 

Walking in the waves with the brilliant stars overhead speculating on when the next nova that will be visible in the daytime will occur.  Then a DAMNED BIG COCKROACH.  Outside.  And proud as anything; she scarcely moved when I tapped the railing next to her.

This morning, we called for the big lizard (about an 8 inch body), who greeted us every morning for three days and then inexplicably vanished – and there he was, running along the path to say goodbye.  Katie finally catching a glimpse of the enormous hummingbirds.  A woodpecker in the palms.  Check out ludicrously easy and they gave me my change in American money, which, if you knew how f*****g hard it was yesterday to get enough US money together to leave the country, was as laughable as how painless the checkout was after the extended agony of my interactions with the front desk over the course of the last week.

Now I’m sitting in the internet cafe and I just forked over about 20 bucks for Katie to get braids.

Happy birthday to me.

Internet access

The hotel didn’t have functioning internet until the day before my birthday, and as an added fillip, the merengue band was playing “Happy Birthday” as I trotted up to the internet salon.  I can understand why hardly anybody uses it… they charge more than 3 times what the rate is across the street and the internet is slow as “dominican minutes”. 

Yesterday, Santo Domingo.  Beautiful architecture, lush vegetation, tourist traps in masses and heaps, and grinding poverty.  Lorne, a guy from Edmonton Katie and I have been hanging with on the field trips, saw a guy drinking from a puddle in the street yesterday.  I think homeless people in Vancouver do not have to do this, but then maybe I’ve just never seen it.

Today, I went to Paradise for 90 minutes.  Saona is exactly as beautiful as advertised, and the vendors were persistent but not up in your face like the guys at the cave yesterday.  The Lonely Planet guide said they were the worst in the Republic, and they weren’t just passing the time of day.  The cave (Tres Ojos) is beautiful and just about the hottest place in the DR.  We were all wringing wet by the time we emerged, dodging hawkers to get to the blessed, blessed a/c tour bus.

Saona was the most glorious coda to a most glorious trip.  The entire speedboat ride back there was an immense, brilliant rainbow, and the sun set into 900 kilometres of water, as that’s how much there is between Saona and the Venezuelan coast.  Frigate birds wheeled around the harbour.  The water was a exalted turquoise.  I was so happy I broke down and bought jewellery from a vendor, and I must have been an easy mark, because he gave me a free ‘cucaracha del mar’.  Imagine a turquoise and black trilobite and you get the general idea.

No vegetarians need apply

This is a hard bloody place to be a vegetarian in.  They serve meat with every meal.  If you’re a vegan, you’d have to pack your food in – it would be virtually impossible to live here otherwise.

Today, more collapsing gently and beaching.  Plus eating and drinking.  The weather has been gorgeous with the exception of a very well behaved rainshower yesterday.  Katie got a magnificent picture of a jewel green lizard yesterday which I hope to post on my return.

I read her the last 5 chapters of Harry Potter VII and we both cried like idiots.  What’s wrong with me??? I’ve read it already, it’s not like it came as any surprise.

Blue skies (no work)

Katie has gone back to the hotel room to keep reading Harry Potter VII.  We’ve breakfasted, and the locals who swarm the place on the weekend have all gone back to work.  The internet cafe is deserted except for me; it’s really quite remarkably peaceful and cool (A/C not being in any short supply here).  Inland I imagine it’s a different story.

Last night was the first time the mosquitoes were really bad; the buffet is located in a pavilion open to the sea breezes, but also to one of the ugliest little cats ever (sat by our table begging and meowing), sparrows who have learned to fold their wings up as they fly through the gaps in the curtains and to tiny, hellaciously persistent mosquitoes. I contemplate our bites (as usual, Katie’s getting it way worse than I am) and think about dengue (which is endemic) and malaria (2004 outbreak).  We cut short dinner to get back to the room. 

If I said I am doing nothing and enjoying it, would you believe me?

I keep seeing bugs and critters that I can’t take pictures of because they move so frikkin’ fast – and I can’t hold what they look like in my head long enough to be able to remember to look them up afterwards.  There was an immense mostly black-with-yellow-bands butterfly on the wall outside our room as we went out to breakfast, but it had vanished by the time I got back into the room safe to get the camera.

Later, a black and yellow bird the size of a bush tit serenaded me from a tree.  I could see half way to his stomach while he was singing….

Tomorrow, more nothing, then Santo Domingo,  then Saona.  Then home.

Viva la Republica Dominicana

I’m sure glad I read up on this place before I stuck down my money.  I knew that check-in would be a nightmare, so I just stayed very very calm.  And waited.  And waited.  We ran into a lovely middle aged Finnish Canadian couple the first day and we’ll be touring Santo Domingo and Saona with them.  Lonely Planet says Saona is a great example of how places get f=cked up by tourism, but I frankly do not care.  The place I most want to see is Trujillo’s unused palace west of Santo Domingo, but instead I will be shopping in la Zona Colonial in the old city and we will be going to the gorgeous sun-drenched isle of Saona – but that’s all the touristy things we’ll be doing apart from hanging at the resort, which is, since some people may care, the Barcelo Capella in Juan Dolio, room 1351.  Since Katie and I have achieved perfect agreement about what constitutes a holiday – someone else cooking, someone else cleaning, and air conditioned tour buses – we’re having a lovely time.

I didn’t bring my USB cable for the camera so the grisly pictures of our horrible time (NOT) will not be available until our return, ever supposing I don’t lose the camera.

To rewind:  The flight was bumpy.  Like, really really bumpy.  Like, clutching Katie’s arm while she laughed at me bumpy.  She was not impressed by my childish display of fear…  Got here at night, drove through Santo Domingo in the dark.  Katie burst into laughter when she saw a midsized truck loaded to the gunwhales with bananas.  You just don’t ever see that in Canada.  The tour bus had to wait as four people were stuck in customs but we were only delayed about an hour and the package coordinator Leo said, partly to entertain us, that we had a challenge and a commitment, to support the beer factories of the Dominican Republic.  Personally I find Presidente beer quite refreshing, but in the last day Katie and I have branched out to Cuba Libres and Pina Coladas.  Whoever said, in the reading I did about the resort, that they water down the drinks is a raging bloody alcoholic; Katie and I have seen NO evidence that this is the case.

 They are supposed to have internet access in the resort, but fat freaking chance, muchachos.  I’m across the street at the mini mall, pounding away for 100 RD an hour.  The story is that the resort doesn’t have a ‘code’ but all that means is that they aren’t paying their suppliers.

There are a million little lizards on the grounds – which are stunning, no word of a lie – and they move like greased lightning.  There is a little pool with flamingos in it – they croak when they speak – and do yoga.  I have pictures, and hope to prove this assertion later. 

Other than reading Harry Potter; body surfing in the warmest water I’ve ever experienced while keeping a sharp eye on our crap; drinking (5 drinks or less per day, spaced out carefully); napping; eating damned good buffet food given the climate; sleeping; walking around the grounds being all happy; booking trips; a small amount of outrageously expensive shopping for the items we couldn’t bring on the airplane; and standing for a long long time waiting to talk to the reception dudes and dudettes – we’ve done nothing at all.  Okay, we’ve watched lizards and been chased down the hall by the biggest goddamned moth I’ve ever seen in my life.

The vendors on the beach are by no means as pressing and persistent as the guidebooks said they’d be, but they are still out like bugs, as Katie remarked. 

The room is really nice, and the a/c – when we run it – keeps the place ice cold.  I was terrified at the complaints about the stench of mold in the rooms, but the smell is omnipresent because of the heat and humidity.  The first thing I did when I got to the room was smell the bedding for mold and bedbuggy evidence, and I was vastly relieved when there was no sign of either.  We’ve slept like dormice every night.

So far the biggest complaints I have are that they don’t have functioning internet, that the elevator in our building doesn’t work, and that the front desk staff appear to have been provided with Quaaludes as part of their compensation package.  However, I also note that the desk staff appear to work 12 hour shifts in heat and humidity that would cause most Canuckistanis to experience convulsions after about six hours, so I make my comments with that admonitory note.

The hurricane Noel that passed through a week ago did not appear to put the grounds in much disarray.  The upkeep on the grounds is amazing – we’ve seen groundskeepers working every day trimming and feeding and watering and in general keeping things looking lovely.  At this time of year not much is in bloom, but the lushness is amazing.  There’s a cactus that is twice the height of a person out by the buffet – I hope to get a snap of Katie standing in front of it.

Another fact I gleaned from the reviews of the resort is that it’s jammed with locals on the weekend.  If the notion of having well behaved children and gorgeous young twenty-something couples strolling around the grounds and sharing the buffet space with you bothers you – which evidently it did for some of the stuck up dickweeds who were reviewing the place – then obviously weekends at the resort will bother you.  Since Katie and I have found any of the Dominicans who have enough money to get into this place quite charming I am thinking the reviewers had ‘issues’.

There were also whiny noises made about the buffet. Dominican food is so bland that anybody used to sampling the culinary delights of Vancouver, with its Thai, Sri Lankan, Szechuan and Sushi smorgasbord, will be saddened by it; me, I’m just happy to be eating food that can’t possibly upset my stomach.  Katie, with her background in Foodsafe, has been watching like a hawk for any evidence of unsanitary practices, and she pronounces herself happy.

Beach is full of ground up shells, so you have to wear footgear in and out of the water, but it was so gorgeous that we didn’t care.  The water, as I say, was bathtub warm, and the waves were big enough to provide interest and small enough to feel safe.  Except for the one time I got smacked real good from behind and Katie nearly died laughing.

You would think after the long airplane ride and the hour long bus ride my back would be a wreck, but I feel better than I have done in ages.

Another item which makes me shake my head is the people who complained about the floor show every night.  I think it’s great, although I’ll probably be tired of it in a week.  It’s quite loud – but nice to hear from your room.  A nine piece live merengue band is an auditory treat.

My kind regards to all you suckers.  I’m having a wonderful time.

Science meets anthropomorphism

How to make a rat laugh.

Anyway, this time tomorrow I’ll be winging my way to “still recovering from Noel” La Republica Dominicana.  Just to give you an idea of how cool the Canadian anthem is, here’s a portion of a really really bad translation of the national anthem of the DR.

Compatriots, let us proudly
Show our face, from today prouder than ever;
Quisqueya may be destroyed
But a slave again, never!
 
Please note Quisqueya is what the native peoples called Hispaniola. That’s one of the closing verses.  The version that is on Wikipedia is so bad I suspect Haitians put it on Wikipedia just to poke the Quisqueyanos in the eye.
I’m packed.  Do I want to take my mandolin, that’s the question that’s bugging me.
I heart Hugh Laurie.  Omar Epps isn’t exactly Mr. Uggly either. 

A certain age

I can’t believe how much a simple chat with a friend can cheer one up.

If you are a certain age you will get most of these references (the alphabet in pix). 

Now people want my tapioca recipe. This is terrible, because I don’t have one.  I just stand there stirring, and staring dreamily off into space, thinking about cabana boys.

I have started on the first season of House.

Tattoo you

My mother has a tattoo. Don’t worry, she didn’t have a Raging Granny fit and have Fred Astaire in a top hat engraved on her bosom; it’s the merest few dots for the siting of the radiation. My father has now had occasion to ask an uncaring universe why it is that he is now sleeping with a tattooed grandmother. Age spares us no indignity, as a great man once remarked. Continue reading Tattoo you