Traveler Introverted: That Time In Dominican Republic

We arrived in Punta Cana on a Tuesday, in late August of 2015. By we, I mean, my daughters and I had accompanied my childhood best friends’ family on their family reunion.

The relationship between my childhood friend and I had been strained by that point. It wasn’t strained because of any malice though. I want to say that our lives had just taken different turns but the truth of the matter is that my former marriage had enveloped me into a world of no return. I lost many relationships, friends and family alike.

I had gotten a divorce and was determined to give myself and my children a new life. This was my children’s first time leaving the county. It was actually only my third. I’m not some travel maven. I’m still a novice, feeling my way through the world map, little by little. So, although, I run a Facebook group for travelers, I empathize with the members who are just starting out. I have just as many questions as they do. I am still on my first passport and I feel exactly ZERO shame in that. That’s why the other admin and I created a group full of nurture and understanding. We don’t all have our sea legs yet, and that is perfectly fine.

I knew many members of my friend’s family but it had been years since I had traveled with them. They felt like strangers again. I did my best to remain optimistic and had hoped that my friend and I would have time to catch up. She knew about some of the things she had been through but in her presence, I was literally “feeling” some of the things she was going through. I’m an empath. We’re all empaths. I just so happen to be very in tune with the very thing that God used to link us all as human beings. Everything is energy. Therefore, I can “feel” everything. Some times it hurts, a lot, but most other times, it’s what makes me an awesome listener and allow me to connect in those one of one conversations. On a few occasions, it’s stops me from sharing space with people all together. They won’t ever have to say a word to me but I know to stay away. My spirit feels the aversion. Sometimes, it won’t ALLOW me to speak.

Let’s give my friend a name. I’d like to call her Vanessa. It’s funny, I distinctly remember having an imaginary friend when I was five. Her name was “Vanessa” too. She was pretty, very blunt, and super funny with a potty mouth. I use to tell my mom the things that “Vanessa” would say. My mom would say, “you better tell ‘Vanessa’ to stop all of that cursing before the both of you get your ass whooped”. I would walk in the opposite direction with a smile on my face because “Vanessa” had mommy all upset again. Ironically enough, on my second day of High School, I met a girl named Vanessa. Her personality was exactly like that of my imaginary friends, and they just so happened to share names. Thoughts become things folks, even when you’re playing.

Vanessa and I didn’t speak much upon arriving in Dominican Republic. She was a new mom, so I attributed her desire to stay close to her own mother while on vacation, a logical decision. Though I desperately wanted to catch up with her, I settled on the fact that it wouldn’t be this trip. The timing just felt off.

The Hard Rock Hotel in Punta Cana was beautiful. It was also the largest resort I had ever visited. I spent the first day of our 8 day journey with my children, that is, until they found out about the Kids Club. My girls were 5 and 8 years old at the time. They loved playing together. They did everything together. They asked me to sign them up for the Kids Club because it was literally an on-site camp that allowed the girls to go to the pool often, play in the arcade, watch shows, and eat anything they wanted. The camp ran from 9:00am-9:00pm. The girls had asked that I pick them up at 6pm or 7pm daily, so that they could go to one of the hotel’s many restaurants and have dinner with me. Reluctantly, I said yes. This was their vacation too. They deserved to do all of the things they wanted to do, despite the fact that they were leaving mommy to her own devices consistently. I did anything, within reason, for my girls. They deserved the world. They had been through a lot during the course of my marriage too. It was time for me to give them a world of possibilities.

By day 5 of my journey, I had walked around the resort a billion times. I even went into the casino one afternoon, and I’m not a gambler. I lost exactly sixty cents at the penny slots and decided to cash out. I paced back and forth in my room, as I pushed myself to find ideas to entertain myself. I was all out. I began looking up silly YouTube videos on my phone (i.e. Lawn gnome comes to life in Columbia, Real mermaids caught on tape). I’m not finna be judged. Yes, I said “finna”. My mother is from Savannah, GA. I can say “finna”.

After a few hours of online shenanigans, my Whatsapp messenger chimed. It was Vanessa. She and a few of her family members were going into town and wanted to know if I’d like to come as well. Yes! I was leaving the resort.

As we went into town, the sights began to change. We went from resort lined streets with opulent backdrops to rows of off road shops, housing multiple souvenir options. The condition of the roads and houses were tattered. I felt like I had stepped into another world. A few of the places even felt third world. I had never been to any third world country but I understood the depiction of it in America. The resort made me feel like Dominican Republic was a place of beauty. Our venture to town showed me otherwise. I felt like I was surrounded by people in need.

I went with Vanessa from shop to shop, buying souvenirs for my family members, and the cutest hats for my daughters. We went into another shop to buy alcohol. We were allowed to sample a drink called Mamajuana. It was full of red wine, rum, and a few roots and herbs. I had a shot and didn’t like the taste. It tasted like filtered cough syrup. I still bought a small bottle though, as a souvenir. I thought it was pretty.

We rode into town in a caravan. Everyone had still been shopping when Vanessa and I decided to go back to the car and wait for everyone. We had finished shopping relatively quickly. Vanessa and I hadn’t spoken much during the trip. Now that there was no one in the car, I decided to take the time to pull some conversation out of her. We spoke briefly as her life as a new mom but she still seemed a bit troubled. I decided that it would be best to give her a little more space and time. Although, we were together in D.R., I didn’t feel like she was there with me mentally. I knew that feeling well. It was one that I had lived with for years. I told myself that we would have our moment in the future.

We went back to the resort in the late afternoon. I stopped by the Kids Club to see if I could steal my babies for late lunch, or maybe a snack. Luckily, they agreed to come with me. Yes, it was luck, because that wasn’t the first day that I stopped by trying to steal some attention. We went to get some ice cream at one of the local shops inside of the resort. We ate ice cream and laughed until I remembered my lactose intolerance. Yup, I hadn’t had ice cream or milk in so long that I had forgotten why. I promptly returned those babies to the Kids Club and made my way back to the room. Death by ice cream. Why me, Lord? Butter Pecan ice cream is my absolute favorite. I had forgotten how good it was, and now I was paying for that experience. I don’t regret eating it though. What I regret is not having one of those digestive enzyme pills to help me with my sins of dairy goodness. Ice cream is not the problem, the lack of availability in the resources necessary to consume them, was the real issue. I’m an optimist.

After an hour or two of intestinal turbulence, I decided to venture to the main entrance of the hotel. They had excursion packages and my youngest baby said that she wanted to swim with dolphins. Her mommy didn’t want to swim with dolphins, and neither did her older sister, but we would swim with dolphins anyway because it was a new experience. I signed the three of us up for the excursion and went to the Kids Clubs to usher my babies to dinner.

The next day, we arrived at the location for our dolphin experience at some time mid morning. My girls were super excited. I’m lying. That baby was super excited. The big one looked like she was gonna shit a brick. I understood how she felt. I too felt like I could shit a brick. Maybe the city girl in me wasn’t liberal enough for sea antics but I constantly spoke to my kids about trying new things, so I had to give this my best shot, for their sake.

The staff helped us get situated in our life jackets, we were placed in a group with 3 to 4 other people. I hate group activities with strangers. It’s not that I don’t like the strangers. It’s just that I don’t know them yet and they usually think I’m odd because I’m not smiling like everyone else. My spidey senses don’t work that way. I will not be judged. I’m an introverted traveler. Group work takes time. How was I supposed to pay attention to the vibe of the people in the group and protect my children by ensuring that the dolphins weren’t forming a coup, utilizing synchronized squeals, tongue clicks, and tail flips?! People don’t understand my struggle…ugh.

We got into the shallow end of the water, where the trainers introduced us to our neighborhood dolphin. His name was Mozart. The trainer did a trick where he tilted his head back and pretended to play the trumpet. Mozart responded by moving himself into an upright position, and spinning himself into a groovy little circle. At that moment, I no longer trusted Mozart. The real Mozart was a composing pianist. The dolphin Mozart was perpetrating a fraud. He should only be dancing to piano key motions.

The trainer called us over to touch Mozart. My baby girl excitedly ran towards the dolphin. She so full of life as she giggled and touched the top of his head and the side of his face. My big girl and I cringed as we watched. My big girl and I have matching personalities. We both speak sarcasm and people watch. She’s my fellow introvert. That baby is the opposite. This world will know that she’s present because she makes it so. Believe it or not, I love her exactly the way she is. The fact that her personality counters mine and her sister’s, just makes us different. Different is still good and she revels in it.

One by one, it was time for each of us to take a ride. My baby girl took her ride like a champ, gave Mozart a little kiss on the head and asked to go again. It was my turn next. I opted to go first. I wanted to give my big girl the courage to ride the dolphin. If her mommy could do it, so could she.

I swam out to the furthest part of the pool. The life vest kept me floating as my feet felt no bottom. The trainer sent Mozart to come get me.

“Holy Shit”, I screeched. I panicked.

Dolphins have dorsal fins. You know what else has a dorsal fin…a shark. Out of nowhere, Mozart was a man-eating great white shark named Jaws and I was stuck in the middle of a pool, while people were smiling. What matter of lunacy was this?!

Mozart was making a beeline for me and I was terrified. I looked to my right, and my baby girl was smiling and waving. She was so happy. My big girl, on the other hand, looked like a child who had recently been orphaned, with knowledge that she would have to take care of the baby girl in my absence. Startled by the look on my big girl’s face, my mommy brain activated and I began to smile. My smile turned into laughter. It was nervous laughter though, because Mozart was about to eat my face. Mozart’s dorsal fin vanished from the top of the water.  Where the hell did he go?!

Mozart was right beneath me. He emerged from beneath my legs, as the trainer yelled for me to hold on. Remember when I told you that I search weird stuff on YouTube? Search “dolphin rape”, because that’s what I had done prior to this experience but none of that mattered because this moment was happening now and it was happening fast.

I grabbed onto Mozart, with high hopes that his dolphin penis was tucked into that little slit that God equipped them with during evolution. Mozart zipped through the water with me on his back. I could feel his strength and mammalian features as my fingers pressed against the hairs on his skin. He felt like wet rubber. The ride lasted for what seemed like hours but I know for sure that was the result of my brain moving in slow motion. I distinctly remember seeing darkness every time I blinked…slow…motion.

I made it back to the other side of the pool and faked a victory stance for my big girl to see. My baby girl said, “good job mom”.

I did it. I pulled off the greatest scam of my life. I turned to my big girl and said, “your turn boo”.

My big girl looked at me with a very straight face for several seconds. Then suddenly, she shouted, “are you kidding me”?! “You almost died out there today and you want me to go next?!”

I almost died with laughter. My little people watcher understood everything that had just happened to me. I wasn’t going to force her to ride Mozart. I laughed for so long that she began to laugh too.

The excursion wrapped with an invitation to take photos with Mozart. My big girl and I declined the invitation vehemently. However, baby girl gave Mozart a face and nose full of chocolate kindergarten kisses. I did everything possible to talk myself out of throwing her in the garbage when we got back to the resort. This had turned out to be one of the most memorable moments of my life. I’m sure that my girls felt the same way.

We were down to our last days on the island. My girls still ditched me for the Kids Club on each of those days. I spent time alone in the room thinking about my life, grateful for the way that it had already changed, and anxious about the changes to come at the same time. I knew that when I got back home, I had many situations to resolve. For that moment in time though, I was free. Traveling made me feel…free.