Apologies for the silence around here the last couple weeks, but I had a beautiful excuse: I was in the Dominican Republic! For years my father has expressed this wish of traveling back to Santiago with all three of his kids, something he hadn't done in 20 years. While my siblings have traveled there plenty over the last few years both with Dad and with other family members, I hadn't visited my DR family in nine years. (You might remember
my vacation there in 2009, but I traveled to a different location on the island and so didn't get to see anyone I knew.)
One of my reasons for staying away was the fact that I spent practically every childhood summer visiting the same village, seeing the same people, doing the same things. So as soon as I had a say in where I could spend my vacations and a budget to make those travel dreams happen, I flew to new places: Mexico, St. Lucia, Costa Rica, Germany, France, Italy, Spain, Czech Republic, Thailand, and planting my restless feet across the U.S. I wanted to see the world and it wasn't going to happen if I kept returning to the same places. I love my extended family, but I guess I'd grown to love my wanderlust more.
But the excitement my father felt in the weeks, days leading up to the trip was contagious. Oh goodness and when he realized we'd be there during Dominican Father's Day, he was just beside himself. It was complete coincidence as we barely even remember when American Father's Day is, but what perfect timing. Once there, I remembered all those little innocent escapades I had as a child, biking off with the local boys to climb hills and trees, poking the bats out of their holes in the trunks and knocking down fruits to eat, the women that I came to know as sisters, the smells, the tastes, visiting my godfather's farm to hose down the pigs and feed the animals. All the kids I'd said goodbye to nine years ago now towered over me and a new batch of faces had taken their place. And while I'm happy for the progress that has made its way into this village in Monte Adentro, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't yearning for the old dirt roads that used to lead us city children to their next adventure where frilly dresses stood no chance against the mud and our curiosity.
It was bittersweet, too, as a walk through the local cemetery made me realized how many people - including two grandparents - had passed on since I was there last. Despite all the faces that filled my grandmother's house as we celebrated our reunion, I still missed seeing her toothless grin as she sat on her rocking chair saying "crapola" about one thing or another. I wish I'd seen her more and I wish I'd grown up with a closer bond with my grandparents, but it's too late for all that now.
The trip was too short. Trips that mean so much usually are. But we filled those five days with laughter and stories that made me realize just how important it is to stay connected to family. There were people that I'd forgotten how much they used to mean to me and it shamed me a bit. So instead of acting as if goodbyes are just words you say casually, I listened, I made eye-contact, I didn't wipe my cheek after their wet kisses, I said, "You mean a lot to me." Because as much as I would love to return and nurture those ties, I know things happen. Work demands your attention, life picks up speed, goals pull you in other directions, unexplored corners call your name, you run out of money, and before you know it, years have passed, children have grown up, the old have moved on. When I hugged my older aunts and uncles farewell I wanted so badly to cling to those moments because I didn't want to forget.
Dad thinks this trip was our gift to him and it started out as such, but, I tell him, this trip was also an unforgettable gift to his children.
We made our rounds and said goodbye to the animators we'd come to know, love and tease. From left to right (and notice how I know most of the guys' names, but not the girls'): forgot this one (but he was in charge of the music), Mikael (another French guy), girl #1, new girl who was still learning the dance moves, Mickey Mouse, Chocolate, Chiki Monkey, Romeo, Baby Face. Donald Duck wasn't around that day.
At the airport, Anonymous and I made a silly little farewell video! It cuts off (because that's what happens when you have a tiny 512 MB memory card and then proceed to take 211 pictures) so I continued her sentence after the video.
By the way, I'd like to mention that while I was taking pictures of the animals, Anonymous was focused on more important things: their trainers. In fact, I'm pretty sure she fell in love 50 times over there.
We also saw the bird and sea lion shows and all I have to say is that I'm a bit freaked out by what these animals can be trained to do.
But other than that I was a pro. So obviously I've decided that one day I'll buy a horse. NYC would be so better if we went back to those days anyway. Plus, they're way greener than any car could be! P.S. Don't we look like we jumped straight out of a telenovela?
Chilling poolside was "eh" compared to the first two days, but it was sweet nonetheless. The French Cutie wasn't around anymore to tie my stomach up in knots so I enjoyed the day minus the eye candy. I was still kicking myself for not making a single move on the guy. No picture, no contact info, no nothing. What a fool. 
Tonight we're supposed to go to Cocobongo with some of the animators and other guests after their karaoke show. Should be interesting.
He showed up!! I was standing alone at the bar (looking pretty damn good, I think) across from where Anonymous and her friend were standing. Next thing I know he's walking up to me and we're giving each other two-cheek kisses. Aaah, the French. My face lit up when I saw him. I asked how his going-away party went last night (he had a great time), if he got drunk (he did) and what he did today. Now I wish I was a psychotic person and recorded his voice because his accent was so cute. Then again, I've always had a thing for sexy European accents. He understands English and Spanish, but when he doesn't he gets this look on his face and leans in so he can catch it the next time around. He'll use hand gestures and signs to bring his broken-English point across. So "sleep" was accompanied by two hands underneath his cheek.
I should've risked humiliation and asked for his contact info, but I was too nervous and too shy. He goes back to France tomorrow and that will be that.
According to Anonymous, this resort is subpar. There are three connected RIUs where we're staying: Merengue (where we are), Bachata and Mambo. RIU Bachata's pool le da tres patas a la de nosotros! Theirs is twice as big, has a waterfall, swim-up bar and different levels and steps. Ours has umm...water. Oh well, it was also the cheapest one so you get what you pay for. Besides, if you reside in one you can eat and play in any of the three. So you bet we walked our little hineys over to Bachata to mooch off their goodies!
