Off-Resort

by Andrea Solski (Canada)

A leap into the unknown Dominica

"Haiti poor" he said as he asked to polish our shoes. That's where he was from, where his family was living. His name was Marco and he was here in the Dominican hustling, trying to do better for himself. But our running shoes were basically destroyed from a mule ride and wet hike to the epic El Limon waterfall. And since we were getting ready to journey into the mangroves and limestone caves of Los Haitises National park, they would soon be filthy once again. We both rejected his offer but he took the soap out anyway. It seemed ridiculous to us, to polish old disgusting sneakers. We didn't get it. Until we did. From the moment we arrived in Samana, a lush tropical peninsula on the northern coast of the country, we witnessed no residual benefit of travel and tourism to the locals. Most of them living in tiny broken-down buildings doing what they can to get by, like Marco. In fact, we learned very early on that locals were always ready and willing to be of service. Particularly on two wheels. My partner Sam and I, really do not make plans aside from our first, maybe second night's sleep when we decide on a destination. So, when we got to the quaint fishing town of Las Terrenas without a ride to where we were staying, I hopped on a stranger’s motorcycle with barely any hesitation before Sam could even finish muttering the words “are we really doing this?” Well, he got his answer. Soon, we were cruising at high speeds through streets peppered with vehicles and pedestrians, wind blown into the unknown, our milky white skin absorbing the sun's rays and taking in the picture of our surroundings. Although I am more of the "go-with-the-flow" type than my counterpart, he is a real trooper when I make quick decisions. He looked back from the motorcycle he was riding behind, a mix of uncertainty & disbelief while I laughed maniacally in nervous excitement. High on adrenaline and such a shift from the furious 30 below weather we left back home in northern Ontario, I swear we both grew 3 inches our first day there. This moment set the tone for the rest of our trip. There were no holds barred. We felt safe, comfortable and free. Each place we visited was equally as special to us as the last. And cheesy as it sounds, the journey really was what made it so. Nearing the end of our vacation, we decided to treat ourselves to our very first stay at a luxury all-inclusive resort. As the saying goes “different strokes, for different folks” such is true about travel. We felt alien brushing shoulders with other fellow Canadians who upon hearing of our vagabondage exclaimed “you went off-resort?!” as if we were a pair of lunatics. They were in disbelief that we took what, in their opinion, was a risk to venture out and roam. I thought back to hometown friends and thousands of North Americans who visit this country annually to bask under the sun and over-indulge, never seeing any of its true authentic beauty. Then I thought of Marco, polishing sneakers for change. And as Sam and I sat down to an over-the-top buffet dinner followed by a show, cocktails in hand, it all seemed so wasteful to me. Only a few nights prior, we had made friends with stray dogs and were served an incredibly large portion of handmade, flavorful authentic Dominican cuisine at a family owned restaurant on the side of a road. That was real. Not this. Knowing that so many had come so far and missed out on the enriching and humbling experience we had enjoyed as a couple made me feel sorry for all of them. They did not know the true Dominica. But we had gotten a taste. We were miles from home and had been welcomed into a culture that until then, we knew nothing about. You can’t get that from any resort.