Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Day 3

Just got back from my tour; I took a lot of pics, but I'm too exhausted to bother trying to put them up just now.  I'll try to get them here before I go to sleep tonight.

In the meantime, I've got some booze-drinking to catch up on.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Day 2.5

Okay, a couple extra thoughts before I konk off for the night...

First, it seems pretty silly to blog about what you're eating for dinner.  Really, it does.  The internet is one of the most revolutionary tools ever invented, and yet this is what I'm using it for?  Really?

Yeah, really.  Brings to mind Futureman, it does.



Second, Canadians are pretty much the most subtly obnoxious tourists in existence.  Note the word "subtle" - that's important.  An American's obnoxiousness (sorry to any readers, future or present, from south of the border who are reading this, but it's very true) is quite in-your-face.  I've seen enough American tourists bitching and moaning about getting change in a "fake currency" (never mind they're in another bloody country), complaining about how everything's so "old," or even getting offended at how nobody speaks a proper language like english.  Not all Americans are like this, of course, but enough of them that the stereotype exists.

Canadians are different.  (And yes, before I go on, I do realize the irony of me fulfilling the stereotype of a Canadian with an Americanb-based chip on his shoulder by defining the Canadian experience via contrast to the American one, but it's pretty much inevitable)  Canadians make great hosts - we go out of our way to make visitors feel comfortable and welcome.  But as tourists?  We're bloody annoying!  We plaster ourselves with our flag.  Some of us even hang our flags on our hotel windows, for crying out loud.  And when we interact with the locals, we're ever-so-polite-and-unobtrusive-and-you'd-better-bloody-well-notice-it-or-we'll-rub-it-in-your-face.  It's like we're desperate for the approval of our hosts, if only they'd just say "Why yes, you're such a gracious guest, going out of your way to learn a word or two of the native language, and you're EVER SO MUCH BETTER THAN THOSE AMERICANS."  Please, sir, please-oh-please give us a pat on the head while I mention five times in the same conversation my country of origin.

Sigh.  It's embarrasing to watch, really.

Could be worse, though.  Could be American.

(That's a joke, son.)

Day 2

This morning, I scheduled the bulk of my vacation with my travel guide person.  Tours cost money, however with my resort reservation I get to go to three fancy restaurants during my stay (well, at least three, I'm not entirely sure but the maximum might be more), though they all require reservations.  Any other time you want to eat, it's at the buffet or the beach club, both of  which has okay but not awesome food.  This is what  I've got:

-Tonight, I dine at the Ocean Grill at 8:30.  This is an open-air restaurant right on the beach, that specializes in (according to the pamphlet) "meat and seafood."  So, basically, land meat and sea meat.  Meat.  That's fine, I like meat.

-Tomorrow, I'll be taking the Puerto Plata/Sosua Tour, which leaves the hotel at 8:30 am (yuck).  I'll be visiting the Amber Gallery, a rum factory, and then spending some time at a beach flea market.  I opted for the flea market over the cable car - wanted to do both, but I had to choose.  Cable-car photos would have been awesome.  In the evening, I have a reservation at the Octopus Restaurant at 8:30 - they specialize in Carribean cuisine.  Incidentally, it's super-easy to get reservations when you want them if you're dining alone - the woman who tried to get a reservation before me was denied for the same spot I got, because she was part of a group of four.

-Thursday, I'm going on the "Puerto Plata Runners" tour, which leaves at 8:30 (yuck again).  THis is pretty much a full-day jeep safari, where I get to see the countryside.  I'll visit a school, a home, make some cigars, and some other stuff that I can't remember through the haze of booze (more on that later).  The tour guide, who's from Quebec, assured me that it's the most authentic Dominican experience available, save for those "experiences" that risk getting mugged or worse.  So, y'know, good enough for me.

-Friday, I'm going to Ocean World, where I'll be spending an hour swimming with a dolphin.  I have to be up and ready to go by 8:10, but totally worth it, because swimming with a dolphin is an expensive and magical experience which is totally not sissy or anything, so suck it.

-Saturday, I'll be be going to a Vegas-style show and casino at 6:30 PM, which is located at Ocean World but takes place in the evening.  I considered doing both this and the dolphin swim the same day, but the tour operator person recommended I split them up for fear of exhaustion.

-Sunday evening at 8:30, I'll be dining at Sapore di Mare Ristorante, which is an italian quisine restaurant.

I'll be wearing my suit to all the restaurants.  They're all elegant-casual dress code, but I own the bloody thing so I might as well wear it.

By the time I got finished booking my tours and making my reservations, I was feeling kinda light-headed - no doubt a combination of heat + empty stomach + lack of sleep + booze.  I figured it was time to eat something, so I went to the Cafeteria Las Amejas.  Of course, I had *another* drink there, and I'm a siuper-cheap drunk to begin with, so now I'm completely blasted.  Really, it's just a bit past 1 pm and I'm having trouble finding my room, or even remembering which floor it's on.  I'm shocked - shocked, I say - that I can still type as well as I think I'm typing.

Problems with staying here.  One, the on-resort stores are all pretty expensive.  Example:  A 236 ml bottle of sunscreen (SPF 15) costs 750 pesos, which is about $25 CND.  A large bag of chips  (export Sun Chips from home, admittedly) costs me $6.50 CND.  You get the idea.

Two, the moment you step off the resort, people are giving you a hard sell.  I've had a hell of a hard time saying no to all these very good friend-strangers who want me to buy some product or service from them.  It's a poor country of 10 million, after all, and servicing tourists is how a lot of people stay alive...  But I've spent more money than I planned to already just on tours, so I'm not exactly the ideal target for their salesmanship, which makes me feel kind of bad.

Crap.  Since I started (ever so slowly) writing this, I've started to lose my buzz.  I'd better go get another drink.

...

There we go.  A Rusty Nail (Whiskey and Triple Sec - doesn't taste too good, but it's pretty strong.)  Incidentally, I've resolved to try at least one of each drink on the drink menu before I leave.  At the rate I'm going, shouldn't be too hard.

Anyway, back on topic.  When I say salesfolks descend on you the moment you leave your resort, I mean literally.  I took a single step past the resort boundary and three taxi drivers were all shouting at me, trying to convince me to let them take me into town.  Unfortunately for them, I was just going to the overpriced shopping centre next door to look for an ATM machine (so that I could pay for some of the tours I wanted to go on.  Did I mention that swimming with dolphins is expensive?  Because it is.  It's expensive and very manly.)

So, I guess contrary to my earlier fears I've managed to arrange it so that I get to spend today just relaxing around the resort.

As promised, I took some better pics today:




The view from my balcony:





An encounter with one of the local fauna.  These little birds are all over the place, and they're particularly noisy during sunset.


The resort management has a funny idea of what constitutes "grass:"



Apparently, they rake the lawns here every.  Single.  Day.



A better shot of the pool.


FYI - It costs me 100 pesos (3.333 bar loonies) for a half-hour of internet time here.  The connection isn't the best, so it takes a while to upload even down-sized images to the internets for your viewing pleasure.  About 6 bucks a blog post, in other words.  This means two things - I'd better make the best of these posts, and you bastards better appreciate it.

I think I'll watch some shows on lappy before heading to the beach.

2 PM:  SUPERGIRL USES HER HEAT VISION, DAMN IT!  She DOESN'T get trapped by poison ivy's plants!  What is wrong with cartoons?  In retrospect, the Dini Batman cartoons weren't nearly as good as I remember them to be.

Sorry, like I said.  Drunk.  Getting drunker and I'm watching stuff on my laptop as I write this.  Enough of this, I'm going to the beach.

5 PM:  Conversation I had when I arrived at the beach:

LOCAL:  Hey, man, enjoy your stay!  You english?

ME:  Uh, yeah.

LOCAL:  What part?  Enjoy your stay!

ME:  Er, thanks, I will.  I'm from Canada.

LOCAL:  So not english?  But you speak english.  Yeah?

ME:  That's right.  Sorry, didn't get what you meant.

LOCAL:  Well, I knew you were from England or Canada, because you're so white!  Cold back home?

ME:   Yeah, there's still snow on the ground where I come from.

LOCAL:  But this beach will fix that, yeah?  Enjoy your stay!

ME:  We'll see.

The beach is divine.  On my birthday when this trip became possible, my mother asked me "What would you do if you could do anything right now?"  And I answered, "I'd be lying on a warm beach somewhere, sipping something booze-ish, and trying to get my head on straight."





Well, this beach is just about exactly the beach I pictured in my mind, except minus the hotties.  (It's more of a family resort, really.)  The sand is amazing - it's so fine that it feels like it belongs in an hourglass.  I could just sink my toes into it all day.




When I went swimming, I cut my finger on a coral reef.  It was awesome!  Don't worry, I'm not going emo or anything, it's just that when you're used to having your nose glued to a computer screen most of the time, doing somethin like wading into a water filled with white fish that just don't give a damn whether you're there or not...  It's really quite the experience.

Still, experience or not, I left when I realized I was sobering up.

To all my friends and loved ones reading this:  I really, really wish you were here. I mean that sincerely.

6 PM:  Man, why you gotta be that way Mr. Sun?  I'm here to absorb your rays!  You ain't gotta be all covered up by clouds.  C'mon, man, hit me!  You know you wanna.




I haven't been this drunk in a long, long time.  All I can hear is a local's beach sale-chant, "I got da monkeys!"  Yes.  Yes, he does.

7 PM:  This is not a good goal I've given myself.  Dominicans love their coffee liquers, and I can't think of very many things that are more disgusting.  Still...  1 latin lover, down the hatch, whether I like it or no.

7:20 PM:  Never been so drunk I've seen double before.  NEW EXPERIENCE!   But I can still type and spell, allowing sufficient backspaces to correct for typos.  I dunno whether to be proud or depressed at my english lit training.

7:25 PM:  Quote from Hellblazer I find apropose:  `Like a woman whose kid`s gone under a truck - a litany of `No, no, you`re *wrong*, he`ll come through that door any second, any *second*...``

`When the truth`s your enemy, that`s when you fight your hardest.  That`s people for you.



9:40 PM:  Had my meal at the Ocean Grill.  I had the Seafood Medley, which consisted of shrimp, squid, octopus, conche, and...  um, something else.  A fish of some kind.



I opted against eating the large, carroty thing, on the grounds that it had the same colour and consistency as a carrot even though it was much, much too large.  I also opted against dessert.  Never been much of a dessert guy, anyway.  But I did have a margarita passion.


DAILY DRINK TALLY:
-3 Rum and Coke
-1 Screwdriver
-1 Rusty Nail
-1 Whiskey Sour
-1 Cobber Club (er, it was called something like that, anyway.,,)
-1 Latin Lover
-1 Margarita Passion
-1 Beer, believe it or not.

Arrival (Day 1)

I woke up this morning - by which I mean about 3 AM - with the sudden realization that I hadn't packed any swimming trunks.  So, I fished around and found them, only to discover that someone had chewed a hole through them at some point.  (It's doubtful that it was Sappho, since she really doesn't do the clothes-chewing thing, so it must have been one of her predecessors.  Incidentally, she's been gone for all of two days now and I already miss her.)

So, I ended up not getting any more sleep after that, and I had to go buy a new pair when the stores opened.  An inauspicious beginning.

Got to the airport early, and got a great seat.  Here's the jet.


Sadly, like a chump I traded my window seat with a young man (high school student) who quite clearly wanted to score with one of the young ladies sitting beside me (also high school students - apparently there was some kind of trip.)  What can I say, I sympathized with his plight.  At any rate, the seat I traded for was...  Well, it was right next to a young fellow about three or four times my width (yes, high school student as well).  Granted, I'm a pretty skinny guy, but that still meant I had to manage a 4.5 hour flight with 1/2 to 2/3 of a seat.

Still, I managed, watching an in-flight movie in which George Clooney travelled all over America firing people (didn't catch the title, but I remember seeing trailers for it a while back) and then the first two-thirds of the Hangover on my laptop.  Finally, we arrived.

Note the pic of the jet.  That's the weather I was leaving - coolish, damp, and pretty miserable.  Soon as you walk off the plane, the heat and humidity hits you like a wall.



 The luggage belt.



The bus that took me to the hotel.


The bus trip was interesting, mostly because I learned another reason for the discount at the resort this week - it seems that a pretty major holiday (Easter) starts at noon Thursday, not ending until Sunday, during which time all the stores in Puerto Plata are closed.  Ouch. That pretty much decides my itinerary - tomorrow and Wednesday I do all my shopping and such, then I spend thursday onward relaxing and taking tours.

Also of note - it seems there's an election going on right now, judging by all the political signs I saw during the trip.  I found it interesting how many anglicized names there were among the candidates, including a Frank and a Francis.  *shrug*

There's an orientation tomorrow morning (another short sleep *sigh*), and I'll be deciding pretty much my entire trip schedule then, or at least pretty close to it.

The resort is called Gran Ventana - literally means "Big Window."  I got some shots that should show why - the place is like a giant window to the resort pools and the ocean - but I'll try to take more tomorrow when the lighting's better.





I was greeted at the door by a waitress with a drink.


I have no idea what this was, but it was delicious!

There are three pools with a swim-up bar.  Again, not the greatest pics, I'll try again tomorrow.



The beach was absolutely gorgeous, but I didn't take any photos that were even worth sharing.  Just take my word for it for now, once again I'll get some daytime photos later.

My room is a "superior room," which actually isn't superior to anything at all in the resort - it's the bottom-rung, really.  Still, the point isn't the room, but all the other stuff that comes with it.  Here's the pics.








The balcony.  Modest, but still nice.



Oh, yeah!  I noticed in my complimentary mini-bar that pepsi bottles are oddly-shaped here.  Here's one next to a regular-sized beer bottle for comparison.


At any rate, now I'm going to go see if I can find the "Midnight Snack Cart" that my resort map assures me exists somewhere around here, then get some sleep for orientation.  I'll probably post this tomorrow when I get the chance.


UPDATE:  I posted this when I got the chance.

DRINK TALLY:
-1 glass white wine (on the plane)
-1 glass red wind (on the plane)
-1 glass champagne (on the plane)
-1 rum and coke (resort)
-1 mystery drink (resort)

Saturday, March 27, 2010

It Begins... Again.

And so I'm dragged back to the world of blogging, kicking and screaming.  For a time, at least.

I'll be using this blog to chronicle by vacation in Puerto Plata, in theory.  After that, who knows?

Apropos of nothing, here's Pickard giving you the finger.