Las Terrenas 2023: Of Whales, Wooziness, and Walls

POST 55: February 15, 2023

I should’ve known better than to accept drugs from someone I didn’t know.

But, everyone else on our whale watch was doing the dramamine the guide handed out, and I didn’t want to get seasick, so I tossed back the pill. After our boat zoomed to the outer reaches of Samana Bay, we observed numerous humpback whales, including a mother and her calf and a jumper whose twist-and-plunge I spotted about halfway through. I was suitably awestruck but fortunately managed to avoid falling off the bow while gaping.

As our craft returned to the dock, I started feeling soooo sleepy, a condition I chalked up to being in the sun for a couple of hours. I would’ve passed out as soon as I slid into the van transporting us from Samana back to Las Terrenas except I really had to pee. Since the majority of my fellow whale watchers shared this need, the driver stopped at a shiny new rest area, only to discover that the water wasn’t working. We’re in the Dominican Republic, so this not an entirely surprising circumstance, just an uncomfortable one. After our driver sped–and I do mean sped–through the mountains to a less elegant but operational baño, all I remember for the rest of Monday is: walking to the first restaurant we saw after returning to Las Terrenas; eating a gourmet Italian meal in a sunscreen-stained t-shirt and shorts; and, back at our villa, watching Dog the Bounty Hunter in Spanish. Oh, and listening to an Audible book about the Bloody Benders, who were 1870s Kansas serial killers.

Let’s just say I had some interesting dreams.

The next morning, I looked up dramamine and discovered that it’s an antihistamine. Well, duh, I wish I would’ve known that pre-whale watch. I studiously avoid Benadryl, another antihistamine, because it makes me feel simultaneously revved up, exhausted, and wrapped in thick clouds of cotton for many hours.

I felt sort of like that on Saturday evening, after a couple of rum and chinolas. In case you’re wondering, chinola is both “passion fruit” (yuk) and the passion fruit liqueur (yum) that is popular here. Having partaken in the the 2-for-1 happy hour special and returned to our villa, I told Gabe that no, I didn’t feel like going out in the dark in search of dinner when I was a bit fuzzy and we had Nutella and crackers in the house. He didn’t share my opinion that Nutella and crackers would make a fine meal, so he went to the closest pizza place.

(Aside: for unknown reasons, the “plain” pizza my husband returned with had anchovies and capers on it. Was this due to a miscommunication, like when our Dominican waiter heard our attempts at saying the French “amande” for an almond croissant at Boulangerie Francaise as “jamon” and we received a croissant with ham on it? This happened twice, so poor language skills on our part are highly probable. Or does an anchovy and capers pizza pass for “plain” in Las Terrenas?).

Back to the actual story: Gabe told me the place had an odd vibe and he was glad to get out of there.

Walking back from the beach the next afternoon, Gabe and I saw a fire engine and what may have been the entire Dominican police force in front of that pizzeria. We learned that a concrete wall had fallen in, crushing both the staircase up to the pizzeria and the restaurant’s owner. We were horrified to hear that the man will likely lose his legs, if not his life. We also were spooked by the fact that Gabe had been on those very stairs, next to that very wall, just hours before both had collapsed.

The poem “For the Anniversary of My Death” came to mind. Gabe and I strolled solemnly along the beach, disconcerted by the contrast of the rubble we’d seen with the the boundless beauty and life surrounding us: laughing people, frolicking dogs, kite surfers skimming the waves, sunshine warming our skin (and, perhaps, giving us skin cancer at the same time). We wondered how many other near-death anniversaries we have unknowingly survived: a truck driver waking just in time to swerve away from our car? A random killer deciding to stop for a pack of cigarettes instead of jumping us? Selecting the non-tainted head of lettuce instead of the one next to it?

But all–in fact, most–is not doom and gloom here in Las Terrenas. I’ll end this post with a much happier wall tale.

We decided yesterday morning to branch out from Boulangerie Francaise and the Italian cafe whose name I don’t know to try a different coffee shop. Having noted it the other evening during an outdoor Superbowl party (that’s another story entirely), we went to Jojo’s Java House. I enjoyed a mug of plain old drip coffee, which I needed after days of cappuccinos and/or crappy coffee I made at our rental villa using something called a “Greca,” and Gabe said Jojo’s cappuccino, made by the newly-minted barista Every, was quite good. Every also pulled off some pretty impressive heart cappuccino art for Valentine’s Day.

We met the owners, Mary and Jeff. They are doctors from Alabama who visited Las Terrenas in 2019, bought a house and moved here with their five children in 2020, and opened the coffee shop last year. Mary is also doing some life coaching. These people aren’t just planning the next phase of their lives, they are living it. Inspired by their enthusiasm and the welcoming atmosphere of their coffee shop, I feel like I too may find the courage to follow a few dreams of my own.

But, first, more caffeine.