The Honeymoon: Adventures in Variety (Cont)

(Merry Christmas!  First installment is here)

Food

So the resort we stayed at was all-inclusive, meaning, along with a lot of other things, that they expected to feed us for every meal.   To that end, they had 12 different restaurants incorporated into the the resort.  Some of them were only open for dinner, which made trying them all difficult.  We managed about 10 of the 12.  There were Italian, Seafood, Mediterranean, Mexican, French, Asian, Steakhouse, and Pizzeria options, along with a grill type place and an outdoor "local style" restaurant I wasn't overfond of, given the immense amounts of rain.  Each restaurant had a fancy name.  "Isabella's" for the French restaurant, "Spice" for the Asian style restaurant, etc.  

The decor and materials labeled these restaurants as sit down, semi-fancy restaurants, as did the mandatory dress code.  Despite the long, winding swimming pool through the outdoor sections of the complex, you were to wear semi-formalwear or formalwear to the restaurants.  No swimsuits, and at least for dinner, definitely no shorts or Tshirts.  I'd had some advance warning about the dress code requirements, so fortunately I wasn't entirely out of luck, but I was stuck wearing exactly two outfits for dinner.  I made heavy use of an outfit I'd gotten recently for the rehearsal dinner, a very fancily made blue-and-black wrap over a black top and matching black pants.  

The food itself unfortunately didn't entirely merit the clothes.  It was a cross between the sit down restaurant it was trying to be, and school cafeteria food.  You know the kind that's line-assembled according to directions, and served en mass?  Yeah...   

So the menus had a lot of American favorites, or in the case of the "ethnic restaurants," stereotypical dishes.  Pad Thai featured strongly in the Asian restaurant, for instance.  At least in the US, that's a staple found on literally every Thai restaurant's menu.  I have no idea if it's genuine Thai cuisine, as I haven't asked my friend or her Thai husband.  Should probably do that.  Genuineness of Pad Thai aside, I tend to expect a certain flavor and ingredients from staple meals like pizza, pasta, stroganoff, etc.  It wasn't there.  Literally everything, familiar name or not, did not taste as I expected.  By the end of the trip, my distress at the food not matching its name warred with my growing respect for the chef's ability to reuse and rebrand food.

I mentioned it previously, but it merits re-noting.  The portion sizes were small at these restaurants, by comparison to the US standard portions.  That's probably because these people are both sane and not expecting you to take food out of the restaurant.   It also might be a matter of conservation of waste.  I was taught to finish all the food on my plate, and generally speaking, I did so, but I'm not sure that teaching is universal.  If not, it'd be a lot of wasted food across all those restaurants every day if they served US-sized portions.  Having appetizers being just 1-2 of whatever you ordered, rather than 6, and main courses being about half the size of US main courses, would ensure a lot less waste and excess.  Which is laudable.  Just not what I was used to. 

Experience-wise, the restaurants were kind of entertaining.  When they could, they clearly hired locals who could play a role.  Our first trip to the French restaurant included a guy that was trying for a French accent in his English, and had the sort of moustache to fit. Our first visit to the Asian-style place, the guy that served us might've had a Chinese ancestor relatively recently.  If it was an ethnically themed restaurant, the music was themed appropriately.  Otherwise, it was American pop music.  Sometimes, really depressing, heartbreak-themed American pop music.  Sadly, the volume on almost everything was set to 11.  The music by the pools, the music in the non-themed restaurants, the microphones, the stage sounds, everything was way, way too loud.  Now, I always carry a big stash of earplugs with me wherever I go... but I hadn't expected to actually need them.  Just as well I had them, though... some of the music was even too loud for Chris, and he's not sound-sensitive.  Just not half-deaf, I guess.

I have no idea if this was intentional or accidental, but all the restaurant tables were of the same make; that is, they were all about a foot too long by comparison to US restaurant tables.  You couldn't really hold hands across the table as Chris and I tend to do sometimes.  There was just too much space between us.  I imagine this gives more space for food, decorations, and place settings, but I think I'd've rather been closer to, y'know, my new spouse.

Events

We didn't do a ton of outings on the trip, as we were trying to decompress from the wedding insanity, and also it poured rain for roughly half the trip.  But we did do a few things while there.  

Scuba

For instance, we got me a brand new fear of suffocation.  Chris really wanted to go scuba diving.  Neither of us are certified, but you can still scuba at short depths (20 feet or less) without it.  So we paid for an excursion out to a reef.  But first we had to learn (in my case) or relearn (in his case) how to use the equipment.  I'd never touched the stuff before, and so had no idea how it all worked.  They gave us the basics, because duh.  But I never quite figured out how to defog my mask, which was unfortunate because those masks really liked to fog up.  The correct technique involved getting seawater in your mask on purpose by doing something fancy with your breathing, swishing it around, then getting it back out again by doing something else fancy with your breathing.  Frankly, as a swimmer whose career was stunted by being unable to keep air bubbles in her nose, I probably shouldn't have expected anything to be different than it was.  

The air in the tank was intensely dry, almost stale, in comparison to the outside air.  This area of the Dominican Republic is relatively humid, almost soggy at times, and generally likes to stick around 80 degrees F.  The tank air was maybe the right temperature, but definitely the wrong humidity.  One of the scuba guys insisted it was the same as the air outside, but I don't believe him.  The balance of gases may have been appropriate for human consumption, but it was absolutely not the same as the air outside, or I wouldn't have noticed a difference.  It was a challenge to not gasp in panic, and to separate the panicky gasps from the "I'm exerting myself in brand new ways" gasps. 

So we practiced a bit in the swimming pool with the equipment, where I sort've figured out how to move and breathe, but not really how to deal with the mask.  None of this prepared me for the actual ocean, where I wasn't allowed to surface to deal with a mask problem, and where there are actual waves that shove you around pretty hard.  They dealt with that by having rope lines on the ocean floor, which you could hold onto as you moved.  Now, arm strength is really not my forte, but my legs, which are usually my strength, were of limited use against the power of the ocean.  So I clung to that rope for dear life, going hand-over-hand after the guide.  In the meantime, my mask slowly leaked water, which pooled around my nose, and I tried not to panic, breathe too hard, or kick anyone in the face with my flippers.  I also made efforts to clear the fog from my mask, but couldn't manage it due not wanting any more water in my mask, and the water in there not really being enough to manage the deed.  Also, the guide didn't really stop for much.  

The fish were pretty, what little I could see of them, and the guide got some pictures and a video I'm still trying to figure out what to do with.  They charged us extra for those, because of course they did.  Chris really enjoyed the excursion, though, so we probably got our money's worth.  I, however, will probably never try scuba diving again.  I had nightmares of suffocating for several days after learning to use the gear, and that was quite enough for me.  I hope I'm the crabbiest person those poor guides have to deal with for the entire year.  I wasn't all that crabby to them, but I could not be cheered up on that excursion and it wasn't their fault.  

Swimming in the Ocean

On a happier note, the Atlantic Ocean was a thing.  We usually don't see the ocean where we live, the biggest bodies of water are the Great Lakes.  You can absolutely swim in the Great Lakes, but they're fresh water, not salt water, and you're not going to find tons of shells or anything there.  The resort had a system of flag colors to denote whether it was safe to go swimming or not.  The entire time we were there, the flags were red, or "no swimming for you."  Because of the tropical storm that had been nearby, there were strong winds, high waves, and poor swimming conditions all around.  But at one point, we saw a bunch of other people "wading" pretty far in anyway, so we joined the general festivities.  Chris acted like a little kid in tall waves, jumping through them and laughing.  We didn't spend long out there, but it was fun.

On several other occasions, we did walk on the beach, just near enough to the waves to get our feet wet.  At high tide, this was particularly amusing because you could find spiral shells on the beach.  When picked up, they were invariably still occupied with a squirming sea critter.  So I'd keep looking for an empty shell, and upon finding an occupied one, toss it into the ocean.  I can't imagine it was much fun for the critters, but it was amusing to me.  I never did find an unoccupied spiral shell, though.  

Walking with Pokemon GO

I got to know the layout of the resort, not by some handy map they gave us, but by literally walking around the whole place with my tablet out, playing Pokemon GO.  Some enterprising Ingress player(s) had marked the resort up with 6 Pokestops, so I was able to walk around and restock on items when it wasn't pouring rain.  The Internet was sadly rather spotty, and of course I had no cell phone service, but the place was awash in several rarer Pokemon, or at least rarer in my home area.  There were two Pokemon gyms in the resort, which tended to switch factions about once a day depending on who was paying attention and who was currently staying.  After the first week, Chris and I started snagging the gyms about once a day so we could get the free ingame currency.  Nobody really seemed to mind.

But I spent a lot of time walking around the resort alone, because as Chris tells it, walks in his family were more punishment and enforced misery than they were fun family bonding time.  So I went alone, and got to sneak up on lizards, greet the groundskeeping staff, and enjoy the intermittent sunshine.  None of which I would have done, by the way, if I hadn't been incentivized by Pokemon GO.  I found bunches of rare Pokemon, including a Dratini (which evolves into my very favorite Pokemon, Dragonair).  Also, they introduced a "walk with your favorite Pokemon!" system that let me power up the Dratini enough to get a Dragonair, so that was kind of awesome. 

The "Museum"

 We wanted to get a little of the local culture if possible, so we asked at the front desk area regarding places to go that also had shopping.  They recommended a place and arranged for a driver.  They called it a museum.

It resembled a museum in that it had exactly three hallways that contained exhibits (topics: cigars, native gemstones, and chocolate).  Those three hallways probably accounted for 10% of the floorspace in the area.  The other 90% was all tourist trap.  They... they get credit for trying, at least.  But seriously, the place was definitely a set of gift shops that happened to have some minor educational value nearby.  I was kind of disappointed.  At least until we met the salesperson at the chocolate shop area.

So it wasn't an entire waste of a trip, given that I needed to shop for souvenirs anyway.  Some of those will be Christmas presents, because convenience is convenience.  So we spent a good chunk of change.  But our assigned salesperson was interesting.  He was not natively from the Dominican Republic, but instead he was a migrant from Venezuela, come to work in a more stable country than his homeland, which is presently governed by someone roughly as insane as Trump.  It doesn't make US news nearly so much, but Venezuela is really not a fun place to live right now.  We already knew this because Chris has a friend from there, someone he met playing World of Warcraft and has kept in touch with over the years.

Anyway, this guy's name was Valerio, and he was surprisingly curious and thoughtful for someone assigned to sell us as much stuff as possible.  Turns out the "I went to college and got this degree, now I don't know what to do with it" syndrome is not just a US thing, he was sadly in the same boat and was making do with the job at the chocolate shop.  So after we'd bought a bunch of stuff, he got permission to wait for the bus with us and we chatted about video games and movies and US politics and the world.  I was surprised he'd played so many of the same video games as Chris, and knew many of the same movies.  I suppose I shouldn't be, the US has a broad reach and influence on the world, especially the Americas, but it's one thing to know that and quite another to see it.

We got his email and I've been chatting with him a bit.  Also he got my blog address, which makes me hope he doesn't mind me mentioning him too much here.

Marinarium

There was one more excursion we went on, which was a glass-bottomed boat trip that included snorkeling to see the fish and reefs.  They also promised that you could swim with sharks and stingrays.  With some cynicism about those last claims, I went on the trip without high hopes.  

I wasn't wrong in my cynicism about the boat itself.  The glass part of the boat was quite small and the glass wasn't sturdy enough to stand on, so the view really wasn't impressive at all.  They did give people a nice show off the side of the boat by feeding a swarm of lemon-yellow fish.  The things were hand sized, and very emphatic about their desire for the pieces of bread being tossed to them.  I've only seen bread disappear that fast when large quantities of ducks were involved, and even then, it wasn't as neatly. 

The music on the boat was intensely loud, to the point where I literally couldn't stand to be anywhere near the speakers.  The idea, I believe, was to be a party, or something.  Music, plentiful (and free) alcohol, the ocean, and snacks.  I felt rather disconnected from it all, between being autistic and not being the ideal physical stereotype for such a setting.  I'm about 50 pounds overweight for gracefully wearing a bikini, and much too hairy and grumpy-looking.  There were 4-6 young people of the category of person appropriate for that stereotype, though, and I happened to be in proximity enough to hear most of their conversations.  They were... not thought provoking, suffice it to say.  I guess not everyone approaches their Caribbean vacations with an eye to learning about the world around them.  

My autism, or more precisely, my preparedness because of my autism, did turn out to be useful in the end, though.  I wasn't the only one bothered by the loudness of the music.  There was an Asian-looking couple with their three kids, all of whom looked very uncomfortable in their seats by the noise.  The mother was pressing her hands over the youngest's ears, a baby, and the two kids looked kinda miserable.  Now, I carry a large supply of earplugs with me wherever I go, just in case of noise-induced suffering.  So after minor thought and some time to beat off my fear of rejection, I got out the supply and offered pairs of earplugs to the family.  They seemed surprised, but did gratefully accept the offer.  Apparently the kids also found the earplugs to be excellent toys during the trip, because I saw them playing with them as often as not afterwards.  It was nice to have my autism be useful for once, rather than a hindrance to everyone.  

But what sticks out most to me was actually the sharks and stingrays.  They were, of course, not great white sharks, but nurse sharks, lacking teeth.  But they were enormous.  Some of them were at least 15 feet long, which is about how large I expected great white sharks to be.  The stingrays, too, were enormous.  I estimated the biggest ones were about the size of a SmartCar.  While small for a car, they were enormous for rays.  The stingrays I was familiar with were maybe dinner plate sized.

We were shepherded off the boat and given masks and snorkels, then directed around the water to see the reefs and fish.  After that, we were taken to special enclosures, which contained the sharks and rays.  That was why it was so easy to see them.  I was  a little distressed about the enclosures, which were large, but probably not large enough for such gargantuan creatures.  But I guess my awe kind've got in the way of being too upset?  

The guide had also promised we could pet a (destingered) stingray.  In the US, that means they're in a neat little shallow tank, and you're cautioned to only pet the top of the ray, never the bottom or the tail.  Presumably so as to avoid sticking your fingers in its mouth or damaging the tail, but I never asked.  The stingray they had for us was about the size of a dinner platter, so already larger than I was expecting.  But instead of having us pet the top, the guide sort've handed it to me in the water and had us look up to smile at a picture.  I'm not sure how well I smiled, I was slightly entranced by the fact that I had a LIVE STINGRAY in my arms.  The ray really didn't seem to mind, which was hopefully at least in part because I wasn't jostling it or poking it.  It was very soft, not quite rubbery but almost.