It's been a few years now, since I've been there with my backpack and a few notions of italo-franco-spanish. Of course I still have a few memories, like a breakfast-yucca that literally carbonized my tongue in Punta Cana… This lonely hotel, between gigantic and Disney-like mansions full of tourists… A long walk to the sea and people, lying peacefully under the trees, asking me why I was walking like that under the sun instead of just relaxing like they did. Ok, the color of the sea, through the dark shadowy palm trees and vegetation did look great from afar. However, being there was a different experience. It was too blue, to clear, too perfect. It was like a desktop picture, plus the people with their colorful bracelets. The water was too warm as well. It was so unnatural that I was, somehow, disappointed. Maybe it’s because I’m attached to my dark blue Mediterranean sea, rough, deep and so unpredictable and where darkness is so prevalent. Here it was long, flat and transparent.
Now that I live in Canada, I can understand this strange beauty, this warmth and this clean-looking vacation atmosphere, but I don’t necessarily like it. Once I was on the beach, I had nothing much to do. I swam a bit and then just sat there, staring at the people, the colors. Being on my own, I had nothing much to do, and my books were at the hotel. I also had the perpetual impression of trespassing on hotel properties and it was clear that, bracelet-less, I didn’t belong. Fortunately, I had the chance to chat with this guy from Haiti, who was trying to sell his paintings, and who told me how the competition was harsh, now that Dominicans reproduced the Haitian art for the tourists. When darkness came, so did peace. The beach was deserted I dreamed for a while, and headed back to the hotel… The next days were to be spent in Santo Domingo.
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