Finding Fantasy Land ... Dominican Republic

DOLLA, DOLLA, BILL Y'ALL

Upon getting my first 'adult' full time post-uni job (that didn't involve serving food or drink to the angry general public), I thought appropriately like an 'adult' and decided to spend all my hard earned moolah on a Holiday. "Don't spend it all at once". Shut up mom and dad, I'm an adult now I'll do what I want. It was mid September and suitable holidays available for our delegated dates were dwindling and the clock was ticking to book a winter break before Father Christmas was crawling down our chimneys. A few frivolous clicks later, our November 'All Inclusive' Dominican Republic vacay was awaiting... what could go wrong eh?

TAKE A CHILL PILL BRUH

Us Brits stand out like a very sore thumb on Holiday (and I'm not just referring to football shirts & competitive bed reserving around the pool), not only are we as rigid as a plank of wood, but we are perhaps the un-coolest in the line up culture on vacay. This was evident from the moment we stepped off our 'British Airways' flight and heroically found our designated taxi. To our surprise, we were joined by a trio of Spanish muchachas, beautifully tanned and glowing with life and energy post - flight. In fact, a direct contrast to my vampire complexion and distress as I tried to wrestle my unnecessary layers of flight clothes off me in a state of hot jet-lag (lol, the flight was only 8 hours, get a grip).

As we set off towards our promised land of Sea, Sand, 30 degrees and unlimited food and drink, our fellow taxi friends couldn't contain their excitement, hollering "Turn that funky music white boy" (my interpretation and translation of what they might have said in Spanish)... Unlike other Caribbean islands, we were not acquainted with the local taste in music (Merengue & Bachata), a glowing reminder of ones ability to be blind- sidingly un-cultured. As the dirt roads got darker, the music got louder, the Spanish señoritas dancing got even sexier, and our British bodies become even stiffer (ew no, not like that weirdo) as we tapped our knees and smiled awkwardly at each other. Before my eyes could start switching, we had arrived at our heavily gated wonderland. AND RELAX.....

WHO LET THE DOG'S OUT

Oh yes, and relax... Poolside, Pina Colada in hand, book in the other (still multitasking even on hols), the sweet smell of sweat and Hawaiian Tropic building on my virgin winter skin. As the vitamin D melted away the tension in my workaholic fused joints, a soothing holiday escapism from routine and regiment, time and to-do lists settled in, slowly trancing me off into a holiday nap.

In fact, a rather short nap, as I was rather abruptly awoken by the sounds of 'Who Let the Dogs out' (2000's banger), and a home-made theme song for the resort- featuring the hotel name countless times (incase you forgot where you were staying) booming out of portable speakers. Confused from my sweaty nap, questions filled my foggy head. Where am I? Am I late for work? Have i accidentally booked to stay at a Children's resort?

Upon opening my eyes, I was confronted with 3 muscular, oiled up, Dominican males (they call them the Animation Team - All inclusive slang for you). My vision cleared, as the 'Animation Team' thrust their hips towards the gaze of screaming women in the pool, husbands looked upon from the sun beds, rolling their eyes at the daily Magic Mike show. I guess this was what they call 'Aqua Aerobics' for 'adults'. This forced fun happened every. Single. Day.

MAKING FRIENDS

When staying in a gated resort, you're most likely going to make a few pals. Reminiscent of younger years on holidays (mostly camping in the UK actually), I luckily had 3 siblings to keep me company and therefore avoided going to any 'Kidz Club' at all costs. Fortunately, on this holiday I made up for my former antisocial youth, by miraculously attracting multiple retired British 'Holiday Makers' in the pool, who proceeded to educate me on their family tree and rein of grandchildren. Thanks to the Julie's & Nigel's of the resort, I am now aware of every 'All Inclusive' resort on the island, tried and tested during retirement.

THE TRUMAN SHOW

Cor blimey, we couldn't believe our bellies when we discovered there were an additional 4 'A la Carte' restaurants to choose from alongside a buffet at dinner time. Just like a movie set, each restaurant was themed like Disney, ranging from Italian to Caribbean, to Rodeo Steakhouse and Asian. Everything, from the furnishings to the staff's costumes (oops, I mean uniforms), to the appearance of the menu was flawless. However, with every successful science experiment, one variable must stay the same... in this case it was the food and drink. It were as if, the Chefs ran to the Buffet and re-ordered the food on the plate to match the theme. While I'm on the topic, the wine... interestingly in every 'restaurant' resembled Apple Cider Vinegar, something I torture myself with at home to encourage a flat belly, not something I wish to voluntarily indulge in whilst I eat my dinner. "Would you like to see the wine menu", "Oh yes please!', "White wine vinegar or Red?". Perhaps it's my naive, immature tastebuds, but something wasn't quite right.

One evening, as we strolled along the peaceful beach (walking off our perculiar dinner), our stroll was cut short by our friendly guard and the bittersweet end of our daily exercise and freedom. Highlighting, the 'Punta Cana' promise devised by 50 hotels on the island (including ours) to keep tourists safe. A response to some negative press regarding some suspicious deaths in 2019, questioning the use of pecdicides and alcohol. Also, highlighting what It must be like to be a real life Sim (shoutout to the Sims, greatest game of my childhood, can't play it because I'm an 'Adult' now).

SHITS & SQUIDLES

Fortunately I'm quite street wise and my partner is not. Rookie m8, eating a whole seafood soup at a large 'All Inclusive' resort (did I mention we went 'All Inclusive'?) Anyways, shock horror, guess who got food poisoning following the suspicious sea-life soup. In fact, that's twice now I've been to an 'All In' type holibobs and my fellow travel buddy has had all sorts of ghastly fluids exiting both ends of their anatomy. Unfortunately, this series of unfortunate events fell on the night before our highly anticipated excursion. Fortunately, every cloud has a silver lining and all that, and we managed to push our trip back a day, allowing the seafood to settle before we hopped on a boat.

SAONA ISLAND

After countless dragons den type pitches to us poolside. Many flip charts, pretty pictures, and "I'll give you a good deal" later, we had finally succumbed to an excursion to the magical land of Saona Island. An hour coach drive later, after picking up fellow budding adventurers (from what seemed to be every resort on the god damn island) we had finally arrived at the bustling harbour, ready to aboard boat a la Saona. Once aboard, our first exciting activity was snorkelling with the promised turtles and fishies, however, ours consisted of a quick dip and the wondrous view of floating gangly legs and soggy bread.

A short boat journey later, we had arrived on the tropical island of Saona. The famous island, had a deserted shipwreck kinda feel, but also full of budding tourists all eager to see the island as advertised on the nations least favourite Celebrations Chocolate 'Bounty' (fun fact, fun fact alert). Mismatched chairs lined the beach under a canopy of palm trees, a local man sliced pineapples and coconuts making the most heavenly Pina Coladas y'all ever did taste, rogue dogs roamed the sand and the crystal clear waters sparkled under the heat. Rustic, beautiful, minimalistic. The birds tweeted loudly competing with the many tour guides, representing the protection from the Government as a 'Nature Reserve" Yay!

SUSPICIOUS SPIRITS

Look, I'm no raging alcoholic, BUT I do love a cheeky cocktail in the sunshine, and a glass of vino as the sun is setting. A chance to reflect on how busy and boring life can be at home, whilst plotting how I can become the next Richard Branson and create my own Necker Island. Unfortunately there was no tipsy masterminding on this holiday, because I genuinely believe the alcohol was PRETEND. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but yah girl is a light weight and nothing came out of 10 consecutive Pina Coladas but a brain freeze and future diabetes. Moral of the story, don't cut corners in life, you'll get shit quality alcohol.

BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY

Aside from my subtle bitching about the nature of an 'All Inclusive', there were some incredible pros of staying in such a resort! Whilst dinners and alcoholic beverages were questionable, Breakfast and Lunch were pretty fantastical! An obviously, newer addition to the resort was the beautiful beachside breakfast buffet (was prior a Mickey Mouse Club House - thanks to Nigel for that info who had visited the resort 5 years in a row).. This beachy haven served an array of fresh fruit, juices, coffee, eggs, fresh bread etc. daily. (If cold meat floats your boat, that was there too, ew). Fresh, clean, and fabulous!

Not so new, was our quaint, old school but very charming room (even had a whirlpool bath lol, if anyone feels the need to take a nice hot bubbly bath in 30 degrees heat). Situated only a few steps away from the triple threat of pool, breakfast bar and beach our room was rather peaceful and lovely. Bonus points, also go to out to the lovely maids who ensured our fridge was topped up daily with beer, fizzy drinks and my favourite beverage of them all, H2O. Tucked away from the evening entertainment and themed restaurants, our location truly suited to our introverted 'fun police' selves... Happy Holidays!

(You're probably thinking, blimey she sounds like an arrogant snob. Disclaimer: I feel very blessed to be able to travel to wonderful countries, the people were lovely, I feel very lucky. Peace)

Thank you for reading my lovely, mystery reader. Xxx

Annabel