Fantasy Island, Pt. 2

It was depressing, to be perfectly frank, true part of it had to do with the condition in which this previous jewel of the Caribbean had been left. But far more depressing was the condition in which the country's citizens had been left.

From the very beginning, it was obvious. On the very first night, one of the bellhops asked, "Te gusta chicas esta noche?" I politely brushed him off, saying that I was just waiting for my friend to come downstairs as I walked to the lobby bar. I apparently wasn't too clear. No sooner had I taken a seat than a twenty something woman greeted me with a sultry "Hola, me llamo Julia." She refused my handshake and leaned in for a kiss on both cheeks before asking if she could share the table with me. She knew her craft well, with flirtatious tossing of her long, black hair and frequent criss crossing of mini-skirted legs. She tittered when I told her I was waiting for my friend. Actually she laughed at just about everything I said.

She just wasn't my type--a bit thick in the thigh, a little too prostitutey, and a little too not-anything-close-to-being-a-man. And when I declined her offer to join me in my room or to have her give me a massage, she turned to flat out begging. It was late, and she just needed to go home. She just wanted cab money now. Only ten pesos.

It was like that every night, a five day game of ditch the hooker.

We learned more about the country from a cabbie we befriended. Turns out in this country his was a very desirable job; he'd had to pull strings, making use of family ties, family that had served as Muban ambassadors to various countries, to obtain the job. Turns out with his job he was in the top 1-2% of the country's wage earners.

He was a great resource, telling us of how post-Revolution cars were not to be bought or sold, they were appointed by the government. Hence, all the old cars. He told us of the government's dictating who was to work in what job. He told us of the most beautiful beach in the country and how the government wanted to keep it pristine for tourists and how they banned its citizens from the beach to ensure this. He told us that in order to move from the country to the city, citizens must be able to find someone with whom to perform the exchange, and the homes exchanged had to be equal in size.

The poverty was everywhere, and it was depressing. I honestly was quite depressed for a good part of the trip.

Until the third day, when it finally dawned on me that everywhere we went, no matter what corner we turned, irrespective of time of day, there was always music, often live, just blaring out windows of dilapidated buildings or emanating from the center of the church square. And there were always people, locals, there to enjoy it and talk and laugh. And it was a true testament of the ability of people to find happiness in dire circumstances.

And it wasn't so depressing after that.

Comments

[dell]

Moral of the story: Dollar doesn't buy happiness; Peso does.

[Dutchimport]

Wow, I would love to know where this fantasy place might be...

[Cuidado]

I visited there in '99 and would never go again. Citizens swarm single Canadians as they want a way out and hope Canadians will marry them. If you travel as two men or two women this is what happens. I felt totally sexually harassed and also felt depressed by it as I was constantly followed by men. A group of us made a pact to walk with each other in groups at night as it just wasn't safe. It is a cheap destination for eastern canadians but no thanks. I prefer Mexico to all of the hot destinations. Vive Mexico!

[Roy]

Van, long time since I last visited the blog! The trip sounds lovely. I browsed the photos, and it looks like a place I'd love to visit! Hope all is well. Trying to catch up with the reading! :)