Dominican Republic reflections

​Arrival
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Everyone working at the resort greets you with “Welcome Home.”  It is heard being echoed every hour throughout our stay.  

​One of the first people we interact with is the day trip planner assigned to our group, we will touch base with him many times over the next 4 days. When he finds out I live in New York he tells us he used to live in Queens.  He says that life was “too hard,” and there were “too many rules,” in America.  He prefers the Dominican.  His daughter is married and lives on Long Island, they visit every three to four years.  He has one brother in Queens and another who “ploughs snow,” in Pennsylvania.

​Every structure in the resort has a roof of dried palm leaves.  They are intricate in their artistry and give the place a more natural feel.  The upkeep is continuous and the work takes place around us everyday, trimming, discarding and filling in what remains.

Our room is a haven of calm.  Fresh flowers scattered on the many surfaces and bed. Dark wood and grey stone in the large bathroom with two sinks, a jacuzzi tub, and an open, glass shower.  Baskets of rolled towels.  A large walk in closet.  A bedroom that’s double doors open onto a patio with cushion furniture and a swim up pool shared by just a handful of rooms.  It is quiet apart from the buzzing of wildlife.

This stretch appears to also be a public beach.  It is beautiful.  The perfect temperate with a breeze and a strong sun.  The water is the right temperature for swimming, with soothing waves that aren’t too rough.  In one direction there are spaced out resorts mixed with abandoned plots of land.  In the other direction we reach a large sign telling walkers to “PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.” This area of the beach is not patrolled.  There  are a few men selling paintings and other goods.  Outside one of the larger resorts there is a sign warning guests not to shop outside the resort, as the beaches, unlike the resorts, are “owned by the Dominican State.”

The Zika virus is spoken of often and a few times a day a man walks through the resort with a machine spraying a natural bug repellant.  It leaves strange clouds that dissipate soon enough. 

There is a cat and her kitten who often show up near the dining room tables.  They are healthy and happy and looking for food.  No one shoos them away they  are welcomed and unafraid.
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A noise like a boat engine revving, startles us the first night.  Our waiter informs us that it is a frog.  I want to see this massive sounding creature, but it is too dark.

Day 2

Yoga in a hut on the beach.  A reflective way to begin my morning.  It is the meditative beginners class, with only four practitioners.
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During another walk there are about 10 horses tied among the palm trees and small groups of riders go up and down the length of the beach.  Higher up on the beach trash has accumulated where the land is empty.  A large clearing with abandoned buildings features one white building intact, where a large two story veranda beckons.  A man leading a group on horseback, blows kisses in my direction. Another man, was being followed loyally by a group of dogs we had seen roaming the beach earlier.  

Traveling the roads provides endless visuals and thoughts.
​Lanes full of tourist vans, yellow school buses, new model cars, and dirt bikes.
So many dirt bikes.  Often carrying more than one rider.
electric pillars of concrete
gated apartment buildings near resorts
fields of homes with metal roofs
concrete structures painted vibrantly  
mountains in the distance
Open aired “cafeterias,” with varying level of crowds and a frequency and size similar to bodegas in Manhattan.
Communities passing time together.
​Imposing gates and walls leading to sprawling resort complexes.

Our resort has cream colored walls around it, with an amount of barbed wire.

Day 3

Walking through a nature preserve. Our guide says everything in Spanish and then in English, and one can pick up the speech pattern based on where the jokes are place. He wants to make us laugh, while still giving us some more troubling facts. 

​We learned of orchids and other plants.  We are told that Trujillo brought vultures to the Dominican to eat the bodies of the people killed.  

Like in Antigua, the Mongoos were brought by the colonizing Europeans to get rid of rats, but instead they ate many of the original lizards and mammals.  There are only two indigenous mammal species left today.  
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A plethora of butterflies are featured, some even flutter about our treck through the lush rainforest.

The water at our destination, a shade of blue that seems impossible, in a limestone pit.  A Cenote. Created by the minerals in the fresh and salt water meeting in this watery cave. Our guide tells us that local legend says an hour swimming in the water will make one ten years younger.  The water is cold and refreshing after our walk. To just tread in the center of this depth of jewel, corroded rock and dancing reflections of light.  It is a calming, romantic place.  Upon our return we share pictures with our fellow travelers.  Most comment on the vibrant beauty of the place, but one says in hushed tones “Did you know that they used to use those places to make human sacrifices?”

Lots of seafood and Tres Leches cake. We sample about 12 flavors of a special kind of infused tequila, everything from coconut to star fruit, while listening to the live music offered each evening.

Final Day

The same staff who worked dinner service are back at breakfast.  I’ve been told that the resorts here have staff housing near the resorts.  Another tourist informs me that the housing provided is better than what the employees could get elsewhere, but I'm not sure where he got this information.

Our day trip planner speaks 4 languages: Spanish, English, Dutch, and Italian, plus he is half fluent in French.  His father wanted him to be a lawyer, but he didn’t want to “spend all his time arguing.”  He confides that he would make more money working in an office, but he likes the resort for the interaction with other people.  Plus he gets to use all those languages, his real passion. 

I here a woman walking by our beach hut, whisper to her husband, “Honey, this isn’t real.” 
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​After another day under a secluded beach hut, we go to the spa, where little fish in a tank eat our feet, it is ticklish and fun.  My sister and I  can’t resist swinging in a hammock as the sun sets.  Laughing and squirming, just like we have all our lives together.  There is no one quite like my own sister. 

Departure

I wanted to talk to more people, collect more stories, visit more places and walk the streets of Santo Domingo.  I will need to return some day, and complete what feels vastly unfinished. There is mystery in this place that  exhausts me in questioning. 
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A snow storm approaches the east coast of the United States.  Our cancelled flight to Philadelphia ends us taking a plane to Charlotte followed by a winding train all the way up to NYC.  In a course of 30 hours I sleep a lot as I go from the tropical island of warmth, jump high over the ocean, and rattle through forest, rural, town centers, and ever gathering snow.  It is a moderated and beautiful trade off that feels like a prolonged dream of landscapes and moving people.