Part II: The Vacation
I give you: Punta Cana.
A far more beautiful and tranquil place than my delayed post gives it credit for.
I nearly missed my flight to meet my Mom and sisters in Chicago. From my door to Los Angeles International Airport an odometer might read 10-14 miles. My clock that day, however, told me that a distance such as this would take me about 2 hours to cover. Now that it's written I realize I could've RAN to the American terminal faster. Traffic in LA is a very ridiculous situation during certain time frames.
After 2 solid days of sitting on an airplane, I said a silent sorry to Casey for that task being what his life is made of. Sitting still for an extended period of time looking at blue is not for me. It's not for many, I suppose.
When we arrived in Punta Cana we quickly became accustomed to saying "Ohla" and "Graci-as" (...I'm sorry...I don't speak Spanish...) so much so that when I left the Domincan Republic I found myself greeting and gracing the American population with words of the sort.
The taxi ride to the resort was a bit un-nerving. The driver drove 50 mph on gravel streets which alone was cause for concern. The shocks on his van were out but his brakes, thankfully, were in tact. He'd zoom up behind locals on mopeds, sit on their tail, honk, and then swerve around them. I kept waiting to see a moped-ian give us the finger, or at least the evil-eye, but apparently only LA locals do business in such a way. Huts lining our taxi driver's race track had roofs fashioned of palm leaves. Seeing the residents around them struck me as romantic. They hadn't a care in the world, I was sure.
After 30 minutes of driving through poor, un-impressive neighborhoods we crossed a line made, theoretically, of thousand dollar bills. It was the gate to our hotel.
We were greeted by boys wearing outfits I can only describe as being 'safari gear'. They helped us to our separate rooms (we had 2) with our luggage. Le and I stopped at a bar on the way and I experienced my first free* drink of the vacation upon my entrance. (*We stayed at an all inclusive resort.)
Bartenders at the Majestic have heavy hands. I'd get the shivers often when drinking their concoctions and I told my Mom one day while sipping a vodka tonic in my lawn chair, "Goddam it. They put tonic in my vodka again!"
Oh how I miss that place now.
Our days consisted of me waking up at 7 and saving us all 4 lawn chairs in our previously discussed "desired location". I'd go running on the beach. Come back. Wake-up Lo and Nic. We'd eat breakfast. Lay out. Eat lunch. Lay out. Shower. Eat dinner. Have drinks. Go to the theatre for entertainment.
I normally don't eat at buffets as a general rule. But since Nic was eating seafood, and I had no other choice, I ate it without putting up any fight. First thing Casey said when I reported to him that it was all inclusive was, "oh no Ash. All they had were buffets I bet." He knows I don't like them because his Mother took us to one for brunch one day and I didn't take to it well. The restaurant didn't have sneeze gaurds which I deem repulsive.
A local boy named Ricky fell in love with Nic. I wanted to squeeze his cheeks but didn't. His limited knowledge of the english language made him seem much younger than he really is. Also the fact that he'd make a claw and say, "Rawr" every time he said his name contributed to his youthful aura: "My name is Ricky, rawr."
We danced the Taki, Taki each night which is what we deemed the Dominican macarena. I was chosen (not voluntarily) to participate on-stage one night in a dance competition in which I was paired with a 50 year old man from Canada named Billy Bob. We waltzed and rambaaed and won the whole thing. I brought home some free rum for my efforts.
Le and Nic were a little over-zealous with the tanning situation the first day so, under palm tree umbrellas they sat for much of the week. They napped and did cross word puzzles while my Mom and I sun-bathed and did other various thing. Like took walks or read. Things of that variety.
I needed a vacation to precede what I came back to. And, in efforts to stay organized, I'll write another post entitled:
Part III: The Fashion Show