A warm breeze rustled the palm fronds overhead and turquoise waves lapped upon the golden sand. I adjusted my sunglasses, smeared on more sixty SPF sunscreen and prepared for a full day of lounging. The shadow of a pterodactyl roused me from my languor. The large grey shape turned out to be a pelican, riding the air currents before diving towards the reef in search of a fish or two. Here on the beach people rotated on their lounge chairs, intent on browning intimate white skin that perhaps would have been better to have remained under wraps. My full coverage bathing suit was most definitely not in style, even by women thirty years older than myself. I did finally concede to a bikini, with a full bottom thank you very much. My butt cheeks are going to stay as white as a Canadian winter, though the number of thongs on the beach had me questioning how many bright red baboon bottoms were going to be gingerly sitting down on a chair tonight. A quick glance at my husband had me guessing that he was not opposed to the view, as even behind his sunglasses his head would turn just slightly as a smile would creep across his face when the lady in front of us would bend over to adjust her blanket. Of course, I am sure he is oblivious to all those thongs and probably focused on that pelican instead, or so I say to myself with a sarcastic snort. Unfortunately, the males mostly sported giant keg bellies, and the oh so wrong banana hammocks. I’ll just go back to watching the large rolling waves, instead of the waves of large rolls.
While in the Dominican, I had planned on a trek through one of several nature parks, yet I was just not able to get myself excited about exercising in the sweltering heat in a very humid jungle. This was partly due to yesterday’s excursion to the local Scape Park. What we had anticipated as a small, easy to walk park turned into six hours of often strenuous activity. Our family began our hike through the local jungle along a trail used to educate tourists on the history of the Dominican Republic and its people. Underneath the thick vegetation, the air was still and heavy. Giant Cuban snails lumbered across the rocky path, while brown geckos skittered up tree trunks. Our flipflops were poor footwear for the sharp limestone littering the trail and there were frequent yelps as especially sharp stones impaled our tender feet. Eventually the sound of falling water reaches our tired ears, and the trail opens out to clear blue skies above a green cenote, tucked away in the dense bush. Here we enjoyed a cooling swim, with rock rising all above us to the lush forest above.
Our day continued with more walking, and a climb up the side of a mountain led by our local guide. The black maw of a cave appeared with a wooden staircase leading down into the abyss. Down we went, the air turning cool here under the earth, with the flashlight illuminating giant stalagmites and stalactites. Tarantulas flinched from the unexpected light, and cave crickets chirped from the darkness. Our guide led us further underground, and I stifled a moment of panic at the thought of being under tons of rock, until up ahead sunlight pierced the darkness through a natural skylight. Past the light, the cave opened into a giant cathedral. Our guide shone his flashlight on the ceiling, causing sleeping bats to swoop though the darkness, silent on leathery wings. We slowly made our way back to the surface as sweat broke out on our skin from the sudden humidity.
We ended our day being chased by mating iguanas. These giant lizards lounged in trees and under brush, except for two randy males posturing and charging each other. We were enjoying watching these two until the excitement came a little too close, as the pair charged right at our legs. With a yelp I ducked behind my husband, worried that these vegetarians might mistake my lily-white legs for a large parsnip. After chasing his competition away, the largest male stood defiant on the trail with a bowlegged stance, blocking our exit. We gingerly scooted around this scaly fellow as his unblinking eyes watched us warily. After an exhausting day of swimming, zip lining and spelunking, it was time to return to the resort for some well-deserved leisure time.
I wandered down to the beach as the last of the sunlight faded behind the palm trees. White clouds drifted across the sky, tinted pink by the sunset. I had the beach by myself, and as I watched the waves break across the sand, I thought of our former editor Linda Belcourt who passed away suddenly. Linda loved to travel, and I can hear her throaty laugh next to me as I ponder how banana hammocks can contain all the goods. I laugh out loud, remembering the video Linda sent me while she was in Costa Rica, of a young male gibbon who spent his mornings howling and obscenely flaunting the family jewels right outside her room. Tomorrow I will take a copy of the last Spingwater news she printed and take a picture outside of our resort, as Linda loved to see her paper travel far from Ontario. I raise a mojito to Linda’s spirit as today would have been her birthday, and I swear I feel a clink on my glass and hear a raspy “cheers”. This is not goodbye, just a stop on another great adventure for this remarkable woman. Cheers Linda.