Gone fishing
For my 30th birthday, N took me on a holiday.
My homage to
jerakeen's holiday photos.
So, a couple of years ago I told N that when I turned 30, I expected him to take me on a holiday to some exotic island. He just kind of went "uh huh" at the time, but come 2013, I started bugging him about it for real. I still wasn't sure if he'd actually do it, because it's a boatload of money, but when 2014 rolled around, he started looking into it.
By this time I'd already started my HR diploma studies, which would keep me very busy until November. In order for me to actually enjoy the holiday and not stress about my essays, we agreed that instead of May, which is my birthday month, we'd go when I was finished. We put it off until the end of November, because by that time the hurricane season at the Caribbean was supposed to be over.
And I say Caribbean, because while I'd mandated that the precise location would need to be a surprise, I had to give the poor guy some pointers. So I told him the Caribbean, but not Cuba or Jamaica, because both seemed too obvious.
The whole surprise thing was very interesting for preparations. We had to get some vaccinations, so I walked into the travel clinic with a note in my hand from N that had the destination's name on it, and told the nurse that I needed shots for there. She thought it was all terribly romantic, and that I was very lucky to have such a boyfriend (which I am ♥). Same thing repeated at the pharmacy where I had to pick up my malaria tablets (they're off the counter, but they have to ask you where you're going to confirm that you're getting the right kind).
When we then finally got to November, I still didn't know where we'd be going. It wasn't until we got to the check in desk at the airport and the lady asked for our destination that N had to reveal that he'd be taking me to the Dominican Republic! The area itself was called Punta Cana, which is somewhat amusing if you speak Finnish (punta meaning pound [the currency] and kana meaning chicken).
I was rather terrified of the flight beforehand, since it was over 8 hours, but at least it was a direct one, and in the end the time passed okay between in-flight movies and my books. The plane departed at 10 in the morning, so with a time difference of 4 hours, we arrived there around 3pm. The moment we stepped out of the plane, it was clear that we were not at home anymore. The arrivals building had a straw roof (not even a thatched roof, from what we could tell), and only 3 walls. As someone who comes from a country where building anything revolves around insulation, I was completely blown away by this. Obviously I've visited countries with a warm climate before, but I'd never seen anything like that before. It was that little detail the finally made it sink it just how far from home we really were.
On the way over, we had to fill in arrival forms, which was also a first for me, having mostly travelled within the EU on my own. We didn't need visas as such, just had to pay a $10 fee online beforehand, which was quite fortunate, as having to apply for one would've probably spoiled the whole surprise aspect of the trip.
Otherwise the airport itself was fairly unremarkable, and we eventually collected our bags from the most dysfunctional luggage belt we'd ever seen (the feeding belt spat the luggage to the circling belt at a 90 degree angle, causing most of the luggage already on the belt to be pushed to the floor).
We found our lovely, air-conditioned transfer coach with no issue, and hopped on. After leaving the airport and the usual collection of semi-industrial buildings that seem to surround airports everywhere, it was at first ugly, brown plains, and then impenetrable-seeming jungle. It was clear we were heading to a beach resort with no towns around.
We arrived at our hotel after a short drive, and I could immediately tell that N had chosen well. I have somewhat exacting standards, and he'd been very nervous about having picked the hotel all by himself. The main building was massive, built from what looked like pink marble, and everything was shiny. We got checked in after a nerve-wracking couple of minutes where the clerk frowned at his computer, energetically shuffled his papers and questioned other people in rapid-fire Spanish. You know, one of those moments where you just know that the hotel has lost your booking and you're stranded 7000 km from home.
Thankfully, he did confirm our booking in the end, and sent us on our way. The hotel grounds were gorgeous: several smaller buildings around a massive, sprawling pool system, all surrounded by lush greenery and palm trees. The pool had been another one of my requirements to N. I've seen so many photos online of luxury hotels that have a boring rectangle pool tossed in the middle as an afterthought, and I wanted a fun pool. This one certainly delivered with its numerous miniature bays; there wasn't a straight line in sight.
We'd been given a twin room, which we were quite happy about. Obviously we usually share a bed at home, but the big distinction here is that we don't share the covers. As is the norm in Finland (and apparently nowhere outside of the Nordic countries), we both have always had our own duvets. As such, we're not used to sharing one giant duvet, and having to do so anywhere else in the world leads to restless nights.
Our first room.
After having settled in, we made a quick tour of the grounds, what little we could see as it was already getting dark. We had dinner at one of the many restaurants (they had one for each day of the week, and everything was inclusive), and then settled into sleep. Our room was on the third floor, so there was very little noise from anyone passing by.
On our first morning there, we got up early and headed to breakfast in the main building. They had an absolutely massive breakfast buffet, and I fell in love. This is now the breakfast all other future breakfasts will be compared to. They had fruit, vegetables, yoghurt, porridge, bread, cereal, bacon, sausages, pancakes, beans, eggs... Everything in as many varieties as you could imagine. I was in absolute heaven, and I fear that I've now been spoiled for life for any other type of holiday food.
We got there early enough that we managed to snag one of the tables outside, and got to enjoy our breakfast there, listening to the birds sing. It was quite literally what I think paradise would be like.
N's typical breakfast.
And mine.
Breakfast was obviously followed by a trip to the pool. It had these amazing floaters that you weren't allowed to reserve or take away from the pool, so you could always catch one if you wanted to. At one point N left to go to our room, and didn't return for ages. Before I could really get worried, however, he finally showed up and told me that the lock on our room door had broken, so he'd had to walk to the main building and wait for them to sort it out. It was apparently the type of breaking that would take several hours to fix, so we received a complementary upgrade to a poolside room.
No complaints, but the new room was the dreaded double room with just one bed, and all the complications that implies. Oh well, we survived...
New room with direct pool access.
We also did a more extensive tour, and I have to say that the grounds were just lovely.
Part of the massive pool.
They held a couple of weddings under the dome while we were there.
Spot the peacock.
They also had plenty of fauna around.
They had at least four of these guys, and they always spent the night on the same third floor balconies. Would've been lovely to stay in one of those.
Also four flamingos that had a very distinctive daily rhythm and could always be found in the same places.
We were delighted to learn that a parrot in Spanish is papagaia. It's papukaija in Finnish, which had never made sense to be, papu meaning bean and kaija being a woman's name.
The obligatory lizard photo.
And some statues, some more bizarre than others...
The next morning we again had breakfast outside, and got to observe something remarkable. There were a lot little black birds around (a quick googling suggest they were probably Greater Antillean grackles), and they'd clearly become well-accustomed to the luxuries of living on top of people. But these were no ordinary thieving birds. Sure, they'd pick up the odd crumb if it fell near them, but what they really were after were the packets of Splenda on the tables.
They'd wait until the occupants of the table left, swoop in, grab a packet of Splenda, and fly to a nearby tree to enjoy their spoils. Although there were a couple of types of sugar available as well, they only ever went for the Splenda, and the ground below the tree was littered with the remains of the little packets. It was great fun watching their antics every morning at breakfast.
If you look carefully, you can see it holding a Splenda packet in its peak.
And of course we had to try the beach as well! It was nice, with plenty of sun loungers to go around, but unfortunately really windy. Punta Cana is right on the east cost of Dominican Republic, meaning the Atlantic hits it with everything it's worth. It was all warm, what with the temperature being 26 to 29 degrees every day (79 - 84F) in the middle of winter, but it did mean that the sand got absolutely everywhere.
The surging of the waves also made the water a lot more muddy, and threw tons of seaweeds to the beach.
Yours truly braving the waves (and the seaweed!).
Our third day at Punta Cana coincided with Thanksgiving. With so many American tourists present, the hotel obviously catered to this, which resulted in typical Thanksgiving foods at dinner at the buffet restaurant, some incredibly cheesy signs at the beach, and a truly bizarre incident of a guy dressed as a giant turkey being chased through the hotel grounds by another guy dressed as a pilgrim and holding and axe...
The third day was also our first excursion day. The hotel offered all sorts of them, from shopping trips to scuba diving and sand buggy safaris to pirate cruises. We chose horseback riding. Well, I chose and N agreed to come along, although he'd never even sat on a horse before.
We were picked up from the hotel by a ranch hand in a vehicle that was quite probably on its last legs, rattled terribly, and had no seat belts. We were joined by a couple from Ohio on their honeymoon, and a mother and daughter from Canada.
The ranch itself wasn't in a much better condition, I'm sorry to say, and there were clearly pregnant cats and dogs milling about everywhere. The stable wasn't modern by any means, and the horses were quite skinny, but fortunately didn't appear to be mistreated otherwise. They picked horses for us, helped us up (the first time I've sat on a western style saddle), and off we went.
They gave us some very basic instructions on how to steer and slow down, but it immediately became clear that the horses knew what they were doing, and input from us was neither required nor desired. The entire time, for whatever reason, the horses seemed driven to pack as close to each other as possible, never mind all the feet banging together or getting crushed between them.
Seeing how we had a first-timer with us, I was expecting a couple of hours of leisurely walk along the beach, and at first that's what it was. We rode through a forest, admiring the views and chatting amongst ourselves. I made the mistake of giving N our camera, not thinking about the fact that it was his first time on a horse, and he'd spend it clutching the saddle, with (understandably) no thought spared to taking photos, so unfortunately I don't have any pictures from the ride itself.
We trotted a bit along the way to the beach, and it was just as painful as I remembered. I hung on like a sack of potatoes, while the lady from Ohio sat on her horse like it was a part of her. I was sure we'd slow back down when we got to the beach.
Nope.
We got there, the ranch hand riding at the front yelled "vamanos", and the horses went. Personally, I was having the time of my life galloping along a beach, with the sun starting its descent, but I can't believe they just did that. They'd made us sign non-liability documents before we started, but it was still completely unexpected.
I didn't get to talk to N much during the ride, as the horses had their own minds about the constantly changing order in which they moved, but we did stop and dismount at one point. He was doing pretty well for a guy who'd just been subjected to a surprise gallop on his first time on a horse, but the horn on his saddle was missing, so he'd had to hang on to the front on the saddle itself, and he was developing quite the blister on his hand.
While we were paused, they offered of fresh coconut juice (they cut the coconuts right in front of us!), and posed us for several pictures. We knew what the guy taking photos of us with a massive lens meant, so we were very surprised when they offered to take a couple of photos of us with our own camera.
Headless horsemen. Sorry for the silly photo but, you know, faces on the Internet..
Back at the ranch we were offered water (for free!) and the chance to buy the pictures they'd taken during the ride. Considering that the trip itself cost $45, and they wanted $35 for the photos, no one took them up on their offer, which clearly agitated them.
We were crammed into a Jeep (all 6 of us, plus the driver) and they dropped us and the Ohioan couple back at our hotel first. This was really weird, as our hotel was further from the ranch, so it definitely would've made more sense to take the mom and her daughter first to make some room in the car. We didn't really think about it until after, though, and I can only hope that the two got to their hotel okay. The ranchers had clearly been unhappy that no one would buy anything, and we were worried that the driver would try something on the lone woman and child. But we didn't know their names or their hotel's name, so there really wasn't anything we could do at that point, except curse that we hadn't insisted that the driver drop us off last. I just hope we were all being paranoid.
When we got back to our room, I was feeling completely shattered from the riding. Not only did my muscles hurt, but I also felt cold and weak, like I had a fever. We ended up just ordering room service (first time ever for both of us) and staying in bed for the rest of the evening.
The following morning I was back on my feet (if with a literally bruised ass), and we went on a shopping trip. Since we were in the middle of a jungle, it meant another bus ride. We thought they'd take us to some shops that the locals visit, but instead they took us to a mall that had all the same brands as back home, only more expensive. I did manage to buy a beach dress and a wrap-type of thing, since I'd managed to slightly burn my arms in the couple of days we'd been there, despite religiously applying SPF 50 every moment I got. We also bought some postcards from a tourist shop, where the sales lady spoke no English (not that I'm expecting everyone to, it just seemed a little unusual in a place catering specifically to tourists).
Before our trip, we'd bought Dominican pesos to use, only to find out we would've been better served by the almighty dollar. All prices everywhere were only given in US dollars; you could pay in pesos, but they'd have to do the exchange rates on a calculator.
On the fifth day we went snorkelling. A bus took us to the south coast, and we were loaded into a catamaran. It took us somewhere on the sea where they had a fenced off area with stingrays and small sharks. It wasn't until the crew were handing out masks that I realised I wear glasses. Not the most mask-compatible accessory known to man.
The fish enclosure.
There wasn't really anything else to do than leave them at the boat and hope for the best. N promised to stay by my side the whole time (I pretty much have to be touching noses with someone to recognise who they are, to give you an idea how well I see without my glasses). And a good thing, too, seeing as I had a minor hysteric episode as soon as I touched the water.
I'd never worn a snorkelling mask before, I couldn't see anything, and the flippers they'd put on my feet messed with my sense of balance. I just about managed to follow the rope from the boat to the enclosure, but after I was supposed to make it on my own, I just couldn't stop crying. The crew obviously noticed the crazy crying lady clinging to a fence pole, but since they only spoke French (or Creole, I can't tell the difference) we couldn't really communicate what was wrong (not that even I really knew what was wrong).
Finally they found a crew member who spoke English, and we agreed that taking the flippers off would probably help. They seemed bemused by this, but did as asked. I calmed down some after that. N kept perfectly cool the entire time, and kept repeating that he was there and wouldn't let anything happen to me. If it hadn't been for him, I don't know if I'd have been able to bring myself to calm down.
Eventually I was able to let go of my fence post, and do some actual snorkelling. Obviously I didn't see much details, but the stingrays were big enough even for my poor eyesight. It was quite fun in the end, but our enjoyment was hampered by the fact that the reason we were able to swim with stingrays was because their stingers had been cut off. You could even have your photo taken petting one, but we refused that (to the crew's further bemusement).
After we were all back on the boat, they started serving alcohol and blasting music. They took us to a place in the sea that they called the "national swimming pool", a spot in the sea where the water came down to your shoulders at most and where apparently every other cruise also dropped off their tourists. They let us go swimming, and continued to serve alcohol on trays balanced on top of ring buoys. Since we were on the south coast, we were protected from the strong winds. There was different music blasting from a dozen different ships, making everything chaotic, but all in all it was still a nice experience.
The national pool.
Some scenery on the way back.
I just wish that everything didn't have to be a "party boat". That you could just have an excursion with like-minded people who don't want loud music or dancing or forced fun. Just be on a boat, enjoying the sun and sea, maybe with a drink in your hand, go see some wildlife that hasn't been butchered or isn't being kept in captivity (and if there isn't any, then so be it), take photos, and take the boat back. There have to be holidays for curmudgeons like us, right?
The crew dancing and trying to entice the tourists to join them.
Although the holiday was all inclusive, the trips obviously cost extra, and by this point we'd spent as much as we felt comfortable doing, so the last two days we just stayed at the beach or by the pool. In the evenings they had movies showing on the beach, and we managed to catch both Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2. We had dinner in a different restaurant each night, and just enjoyed being away from it all. Ever since we moved to London, most of our holidays have been to Finland. And of course I want to see my friends and family, but those trips aren't holidays in the same sense that this was. Just the two us of, just being.
The hotel grounds looked stunning at night.
Then came December, and the somewhat absurd Christmas decorations. I mean, everyone gets to celebrate how they wish, but being from Finland myself, I can't say that it didn't feel weird seeing a Christmas tree in 30 degree heat.
I really wanted to buy something local to remember the trip by, but sadly I didn't get the chance. The shops at the hotel mostly sold touristy crap, and the one real jewellers there wanted $85 for a simple silver and larimar pendant. I get that the stone is rare, but I wasn't willing to cough up quite that much for it. Maybe I was supposed to haggle, but it goes everything against my nature as a Finn. We don't haggle, period. If you give a Finn a price that they consider too high, they won't start negotiating; they'll just walk away and that's the end of it.
We did end up buying some local rum and cigars to bring back as gifts to our dads, though. They offered us Cubans as well, and when we questioned their legality to bring to the UK, the happy salesman promised that they'd just replace the Cuban seals with Dominican ones, and none would be the wiser. We decided to decline his offer. We did get a discount, however. He gave us the price, and we started discussing amongst ourselves in Finnish how much that would be in pounds. The salesman apparently interpreted this as a haggling tactic, and started lowering the price as we spoke. What a nice man.
Not everyone was as nice, however. We were told on the first day that there would be merchants on the beach that the hotel legally had to allow there to make their living. They were mostly courteous enough to take no for answer, and not bother you in the first place if you looked like you were sleeping. But what we weren't warned against were the merchants that descended the hotel grounds a couple of times in the week that were there, and hounded tourists like piranhas. It was impossible to pass them by without almost physically being pulled in, and if you showed any interest in their wares, they wouldn't let you leave. N bought some cute wooden turtles from one merchant (because he actually liked them), but even that wasn't enough. They were the only unpleasant aspect of the trip, but they sure made up for it obnoxiousness.
On our last day in Punta Cana, I dragged N up at 6 in the morning to catch the sunrise. The perfect ending to a perfect holiday.
We had one last breakfast, checked out, and camped in the hotel lobby to wait for our coach back to the airport. We'd been told that there would be no online check in for this flight, but that was clearly a lie, because by the time we got to the check in desk, half the queue was still behind us, and yet we were told that there were no more seats together. There also were no post boxes, so we ended up bringing our cards with us back to London, stamps and all...
So we were split for the 9-hour flight. I'd been planning on sleeping the night away (the plane left at 7 in the evening), but I got stuck in front of a kid that wouldn't stop kicking my seat, and then my knees started hurting from the limited leg space I had, and I didn't end up sleeping for more than 15 minutes the entire night.
We finally landed on Gatwick after what felt a lot longer than 9 hours. By this point I'd been awake for some 20+ hours, and feeling decidedly loopy. Fortunately there were no issues with arrival. We got out bags, and weren't snatched by customs. Not that this was a real fear, but this was the first time we actually saw someone at the customs desks. And not just someone; it was full of customs officials who started pulling passengers aside. We'd never seen that before, and it was clear we weren't on an intra-EU flight.
We managed to stay awake until home, but then we had to have a few hours' power nap before we were back to functional. N tells me that I fell asleep practically in the middle of a sentence. That did the trick, though, and we were back to work the next day feeling no worse for wear.
Bottom line: it was the best possible birthday present I can imagine. I just don't know if a trip to Gran Canaria will ever satisfy after this.
Mai Tais. Just 'cause they're pretty.
N's Green Orchid and my first ever Shirley Temple. All the drinks were delivered like this, with the ends of the paper coverings still on.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth. You can also comment there using OpenID.
My homage to
jerakeen's holiday photos.
So, a couple of years ago I told N that when I turned 30, I expected him to take me on a holiday to some exotic island. He just kind of went "uh huh" at the time, but come 2013, I started bugging him about it for real. I still wasn't sure if he'd actually do it, because it's a boatload of money, but when 2014 rolled around, he started looking into it.
By this time I'd already started my HR diploma studies, which would keep me very busy until November. In order for me to actually enjoy the holiday and not stress about my essays, we agreed that instead of May, which is my birthday month, we'd go when I was finished. We put it off until the end of November, because by that time the hurricane season at the Caribbean was supposed to be over.
And I say Caribbean, because while I'd mandated that the precise location would need to be a surprise, I had to give the poor guy some pointers. So I told him the Caribbean, but not Cuba or Jamaica, because both seemed too obvious.
The whole surprise thing was very interesting for preparations. We had to get some vaccinations, so I walked into the travel clinic with a note in my hand from N that had the destination's name on it, and told the nurse that I needed shots for there. She thought it was all terribly romantic, and that I was very lucky to have such a boyfriend (which I am ♥). Same thing repeated at the pharmacy where I had to pick up my malaria tablets (they're off the counter, but they have to ask you where you're going to confirm that you're getting the right kind).
When we then finally got to November, I still didn't know where we'd be going. It wasn't until we got to the check in desk at the airport and the lady asked for our destination that N had to reveal that he'd be taking me to the Dominican Republic! The area itself was called Punta Cana, which is somewhat amusing if you speak Finnish (punta meaning pound [the currency] and kana meaning chicken).
I was rather terrified of the flight beforehand, since it was over 8 hours, but at least it was a direct one, and in the end the time passed okay between in-flight movies and my books. The plane departed at 10 in the morning, so with a time difference of 4 hours, we arrived there around 3pm. The moment we stepped out of the plane, it was clear that we were not at home anymore. The arrivals building had a straw roof (not even a thatched roof, from what we could tell), and only 3 walls. As someone who comes from a country where building anything revolves around insulation, I was completely blown away by this. Obviously I've visited countries with a warm climate before, but I'd never seen anything like that before. It was that little detail the finally made it sink it just how far from home we really were.
On the way over, we had to fill in arrival forms, which was also a first for me, having mostly travelled within the EU on my own. We didn't need visas as such, just had to pay a $10 fee online beforehand, which was quite fortunate, as having to apply for one would've probably spoiled the whole surprise aspect of the trip.
Otherwise the airport itself was fairly unremarkable, and we eventually collected our bags from the most dysfunctional luggage belt we'd ever seen (the feeding belt spat the luggage to the circling belt at a 90 degree angle, causing most of the luggage already on the belt to be pushed to the floor).
We found our lovely, air-conditioned transfer coach with no issue, and hopped on. After leaving the airport and the usual collection of semi-industrial buildings that seem to surround airports everywhere, it was at first ugly, brown plains, and then impenetrable-seeming jungle. It was clear we were heading to a beach resort with no towns around.
We arrived at our hotel after a short drive, and I could immediately tell that N had chosen well. I have somewhat exacting standards, and he'd been very nervous about having picked the hotel all by himself. The main building was massive, built from what looked like pink marble, and everything was shiny. We got checked in after a nerve-wracking couple of minutes where the clerk frowned at his computer, energetically shuffled his papers and questioned other people in rapid-fire Spanish. You know, one of those moments where you just know that the hotel has lost your booking and you're stranded 7000 km from home.
Thankfully, he did confirm our booking in the end, and sent us on our way. The hotel grounds were gorgeous: several smaller buildings around a massive, sprawling pool system, all surrounded by lush greenery and palm trees. The pool had been another one of my requirements to N. I've seen so many photos online of luxury hotels that have a boring rectangle pool tossed in the middle as an afterthought, and I wanted a fun pool. This one certainly delivered with its numerous miniature bays; there wasn't a straight line in sight.
We'd been given a twin room, which we were quite happy about. Obviously we usually share a bed at home, but the big distinction here is that we don't share the covers. As is the norm in Finland (and apparently nowhere outside of the Nordic countries), we both have always had our own duvets. As such, we're not used to sharing one giant duvet, and having to do so anywhere else in the world leads to restless nights.
Our first room.
After having settled in, we made a quick tour of the grounds, what little we could see as it was already getting dark. We had dinner at one of the many restaurants (they had one for each day of the week, and everything was inclusive), and then settled into sleep. Our room was on the third floor, so there was very little noise from anyone passing by.
On our first morning there, we got up early and headed to breakfast in the main building. They had an absolutely massive breakfast buffet, and I fell in love. This is now the breakfast all other future breakfasts will be compared to. They had fruit, vegetables, yoghurt, porridge, bread, cereal, bacon, sausages, pancakes, beans, eggs... Everything in as many varieties as you could imagine. I was in absolute heaven, and I fear that I've now been spoiled for life for any other type of holiday food.
We got there early enough that we managed to snag one of the tables outside, and got to enjoy our breakfast there, listening to the birds sing. It was quite literally what I think paradise would be like.
N's typical breakfast.
And mine.
Breakfast was obviously followed by a trip to the pool. It had these amazing floaters that you weren't allowed to reserve or take away from the pool, so you could always catch one if you wanted to. At one point N left to go to our room, and didn't return for ages. Before I could really get worried, however, he finally showed up and told me that the lock on our room door had broken, so he'd had to walk to the main building and wait for them to sort it out. It was apparently the type of breaking that would take several hours to fix, so we received a complementary upgrade to a poolside room.
No complaints, but the new room was the dreaded double room with just one bed, and all the complications that implies. Oh well, we survived...
New room with direct pool access.
We also did a more extensive tour, and I have to say that the grounds were just lovely.
Part of the massive pool.
They held a couple of weddings under the dome while we were there.
Spot the peacock.
They also had plenty of fauna around.
They had at least four of these guys, and they always spent the night on the same third floor balconies. Would've been lovely to stay in one of those.
Also four flamingos that had a very distinctive daily rhythm and could always be found in the same places.
We were delighted to learn that a parrot in Spanish is papagaia. It's papukaija in Finnish, which had never made sense to be, papu meaning bean and kaija being a woman's name.
The obligatory lizard photo.
And some statues, some more bizarre than others...
The next morning we again had breakfast outside, and got to observe something remarkable. There were a lot little black birds around (a quick googling suggest they were probably Greater Antillean grackles), and they'd clearly become well-accustomed to the luxuries of living on top of people. But these were no ordinary thieving birds. Sure, they'd pick up the odd crumb if it fell near them, but what they really were after were the packets of Splenda on the tables.
They'd wait until the occupants of the table left, swoop in, grab a packet of Splenda, and fly to a nearby tree to enjoy their spoils. Although there were a couple of types of sugar available as well, they only ever went for the Splenda, and the ground below the tree was littered with the remains of the little packets. It was great fun watching their antics every morning at breakfast.
If you look carefully, you can see it holding a Splenda packet in its peak.
And of course we had to try the beach as well! It was nice, with plenty of sun loungers to go around, but unfortunately really windy. Punta Cana is right on the east cost of Dominican Republic, meaning the Atlantic hits it with everything it's worth. It was all warm, what with the temperature being 26 to 29 degrees every day (79 - 84F) in the middle of winter, but it did mean that the sand got absolutely everywhere.
The surging of the waves also made the water a lot more muddy, and threw tons of seaweeds to the beach.
Yours truly braving the waves (and the seaweed!).
Our third day at Punta Cana coincided with Thanksgiving. With so many American tourists present, the hotel obviously catered to this, which resulted in typical Thanksgiving foods at dinner at the buffet restaurant, some incredibly cheesy signs at the beach, and a truly bizarre incident of a guy dressed as a giant turkey being chased through the hotel grounds by another guy dressed as a pilgrim and holding and axe...
The third day was also our first excursion day. The hotel offered all sorts of them, from shopping trips to scuba diving and sand buggy safaris to pirate cruises. We chose horseback riding. Well, I chose and N agreed to come along, although he'd never even sat on a horse before.
We were picked up from the hotel by a ranch hand in a vehicle that was quite probably on its last legs, rattled terribly, and had no seat belts. We were joined by a couple from Ohio on their honeymoon, and a mother and daughter from Canada.
The ranch itself wasn't in a much better condition, I'm sorry to say, and there were clearly pregnant cats and dogs milling about everywhere. The stable wasn't modern by any means, and the horses were quite skinny, but fortunately didn't appear to be mistreated otherwise. They picked horses for us, helped us up (the first time I've sat on a western style saddle), and off we went.
They gave us some very basic instructions on how to steer and slow down, but it immediately became clear that the horses knew what they were doing, and input from us was neither required nor desired. The entire time, for whatever reason, the horses seemed driven to pack as close to each other as possible, never mind all the feet banging together or getting crushed between them.
Seeing how we had a first-timer with us, I was expecting a couple of hours of leisurely walk along the beach, and at first that's what it was. We rode through a forest, admiring the views and chatting amongst ourselves. I made the mistake of giving N our camera, not thinking about the fact that it was his first time on a horse, and he'd spend it clutching the saddle, with (understandably) no thought spared to taking photos, so unfortunately I don't have any pictures from the ride itself.
We trotted a bit along the way to the beach, and it was just as painful as I remembered. I hung on like a sack of potatoes, while the lady from Ohio sat on her horse like it was a part of her. I was sure we'd slow back down when we got to the beach.
Nope.
We got there, the ranch hand riding at the front yelled "vamanos", and the horses went. Personally, I was having the time of my life galloping along a beach, with the sun starting its descent, but I can't believe they just did that. They'd made us sign non-liability documents before we started, but it was still completely unexpected.
I didn't get to talk to N much during the ride, as the horses had their own minds about the constantly changing order in which they moved, but we did stop and dismount at one point. He was doing pretty well for a guy who'd just been subjected to a surprise gallop on his first time on a horse, but the horn on his saddle was missing, so he'd had to hang on to the front on the saddle itself, and he was developing quite the blister on his hand.
While we were paused, they offered of fresh coconut juice (they cut the coconuts right in front of us!), and posed us for several pictures. We knew what the guy taking photos of us with a massive lens meant, so we were very surprised when they offered to take a couple of photos of us with our own camera.
Headless horsemen. Sorry for the silly photo but, you know, faces on the Internet..
Back at the ranch we were offered water (for free!) and the chance to buy the pictures they'd taken during the ride. Considering that the trip itself cost $45, and they wanted $35 for the photos, no one took them up on their offer, which clearly agitated them.
We were crammed into a Jeep (all 6 of us, plus the driver) and they dropped us and the Ohioan couple back at our hotel first. This was really weird, as our hotel was further from the ranch, so it definitely would've made more sense to take the mom and her daughter first to make some room in the car. We didn't really think about it until after, though, and I can only hope that the two got to their hotel okay. The ranchers had clearly been unhappy that no one would buy anything, and we were worried that the driver would try something on the lone woman and child. But we didn't know their names or their hotel's name, so there really wasn't anything we could do at that point, except curse that we hadn't insisted that the driver drop us off last. I just hope we were all being paranoid.
When we got back to our room, I was feeling completely shattered from the riding. Not only did my muscles hurt, but I also felt cold and weak, like I had a fever. We ended up just ordering room service (first time ever for both of us) and staying in bed for the rest of the evening.
The following morning I was back on my feet (if with a literally bruised ass), and we went on a shopping trip. Since we were in the middle of a jungle, it meant another bus ride. We thought they'd take us to some shops that the locals visit, but instead they took us to a mall that had all the same brands as back home, only more expensive. I did manage to buy a beach dress and a wrap-type of thing, since I'd managed to slightly burn my arms in the couple of days we'd been there, despite religiously applying SPF 50 every moment I got. We also bought some postcards from a tourist shop, where the sales lady spoke no English (not that I'm expecting everyone to, it just seemed a little unusual in a place catering specifically to tourists).
Before our trip, we'd bought Dominican pesos to use, only to find out we would've been better served by the almighty dollar. All prices everywhere were only given in US dollars; you could pay in pesos, but they'd have to do the exchange rates on a calculator.
On the fifth day we went snorkelling. A bus took us to the south coast, and we were loaded into a catamaran. It took us somewhere on the sea where they had a fenced off area with stingrays and small sharks. It wasn't until the crew were handing out masks that I realised I wear glasses. Not the most mask-compatible accessory known to man.
The fish enclosure.
There wasn't really anything else to do than leave them at the boat and hope for the best. N promised to stay by my side the whole time (I pretty much have to be touching noses with someone to recognise who they are, to give you an idea how well I see without my glasses). And a good thing, too, seeing as I had a minor hysteric episode as soon as I touched the water.
I'd never worn a snorkelling mask before, I couldn't see anything, and the flippers they'd put on my feet messed with my sense of balance. I just about managed to follow the rope from the boat to the enclosure, but after I was supposed to make it on my own, I just couldn't stop crying. The crew obviously noticed the crazy crying lady clinging to a fence pole, but since they only spoke French (or Creole, I can't tell the difference) we couldn't really communicate what was wrong (not that even I really knew what was wrong).
Finally they found a crew member who spoke English, and we agreed that taking the flippers off would probably help. They seemed bemused by this, but did as asked. I calmed down some after that. N kept perfectly cool the entire time, and kept repeating that he was there and wouldn't let anything happen to me. If it hadn't been for him, I don't know if I'd have been able to bring myself to calm down.
Eventually I was able to let go of my fence post, and do some actual snorkelling. Obviously I didn't see much details, but the stingrays were big enough even for my poor eyesight. It was quite fun in the end, but our enjoyment was hampered by the fact that the reason we were able to swim with stingrays was because their stingers had been cut off. You could even have your photo taken petting one, but we refused that (to the crew's further bemusement).
After we were all back on the boat, they started serving alcohol and blasting music. They took us to a place in the sea that they called the "national swimming pool", a spot in the sea where the water came down to your shoulders at most and where apparently every other cruise also dropped off their tourists. They let us go swimming, and continued to serve alcohol on trays balanced on top of ring buoys. Since we were on the south coast, we were protected from the strong winds. There was different music blasting from a dozen different ships, making everything chaotic, but all in all it was still a nice experience.
The national pool.
Some scenery on the way back.
I just wish that everything didn't have to be a "party boat". That you could just have an excursion with like-minded people who don't want loud music or dancing or forced fun. Just be on a boat, enjoying the sun and sea, maybe with a drink in your hand, go see some wildlife that hasn't been butchered or isn't being kept in captivity (and if there isn't any, then so be it), take photos, and take the boat back. There have to be holidays for curmudgeons like us, right?
The crew dancing and trying to entice the tourists to join them.
Although the holiday was all inclusive, the trips obviously cost extra, and by this point we'd spent as much as we felt comfortable doing, so the last two days we just stayed at the beach or by the pool. In the evenings they had movies showing on the beach, and we managed to catch both Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2. We had dinner in a different restaurant each night, and just enjoyed being away from it all. Ever since we moved to London, most of our holidays have been to Finland. And of course I want to see my friends and family, but those trips aren't holidays in the same sense that this was. Just the two us of, just being.
The hotel grounds looked stunning at night.
Then came December, and the somewhat absurd Christmas decorations. I mean, everyone gets to celebrate how they wish, but being from Finland myself, I can't say that it didn't feel weird seeing a Christmas tree in 30 degree heat.
I really wanted to buy something local to remember the trip by, but sadly I didn't get the chance. The shops at the hotel mostly sold touristy crap, and the one real jewellers there wanted $85 for a simple silver and larimar pendant. I get that the stone is rare, but I wasn't willing to cough up quite that much for it. Maybe I was supposed to haggle, but it goes everything against my nature as a Finn. We don't haggle, period. If you give a Finn a price that they consider too high, they won't start negotiating; they'll just walk away and that's the end of it.
We did end up buying some local rum and cigars to bring back as gifts to our dads, though. They offered us Cubans as well, and when we questioned their legality to bring to the UK, the happy salesman promised that they'd just replace the Cuban seals with Dominican ones, and none would be the wiser. We decided to decline his offer. We did get a discount, however. He gave us the price, and we started discussing amongst ourselves in Finnish how much that would be in pounds. The salesman apparently interpreted this as a haggling tactic, and started lowering the price as we spoke. What a nice man.
Not everyone was as nice, however. We were told on the first day that there would be merchants on the beach that the hotel legally had to allow there to make their living. They were mostly courteous enough to take no for answer, and not bother you in the first place if you looked like you were sleeping. But what we weren't warned against were the merchants that descended the hotel grounds a couple of times in the week that were there, and hounded tourists like piranhas. It was impossible to pass them by without almost physically being pulled in, and if you showed any interest in their wares, they wouldn't let you leave. N bought some cute wooden turtles from one merchant (because he actually liked them), but even that wasn't enough. They were the only unpleasant aspect of the trip, but they sure made up for it obnoxiousness.
On our last day in Punta Cana, I dragged N up at 6 in the morning to catch the sunrise. The perfect ending to a perfect holiday.
We had one last breakfast, checked out, and camped in the hotel lobby to wait for our coach back to the airport. We'd been told that there would be no online check in for this flight, but that was clearly a lie, because by the time we got to the check in desk, half the queue was still behind us, and yet we were told that there were no more seats together. There also were no post boxes, so we ended up bringing our cards with us back to London, stamps and all...
So we were split for the 9-hour flight. I'd been planning on sleeping the night away (the plane left at 7 in the evening), but I got stuck in front of a kid that wouldn't stop kicking my seat, and then my knees started hurting from the limited leg space I had, and I didn't end up sleeping for more than 15 minutes the entire night.
We finally landed on Gatwick after what felt a lot longer than 9 hours. By this point I'd been awake for some 20+ hours, and feeling decidedly loopy. Fortunately there were no issues with arrival. We got out bags, and weren't snatched by customs. Not that this was a real fear, but this was the first time we actually saw someone at the customs desks. And not just someone; it was full of customs officials who started pulling passengers aside. We'd never seen that before, and it was clear we weren't on an intra-EU flight.
We managed to stay awake until home, but then we had to have a few hours' power nap before we were back to functional. N tells me that I fell asleep practically in the middle of a sentence. That did the trick, though, and we were back to work the next day feeling no worse for wear.
Bottom line: it was the best possible birthday present I can imagine. I just don't know if a trip to Gran Canaria will ever satisfy after this.
Mai Tais. Just 'cause they're pretty.
N's Green Orchid and my first ever Shirley Temple. All the drinks were delivered like this, with the ends of the paper coverings still on.
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