Labadee, Haiti...#1

There are hardly any roads in Labadee, Haiti. The once tiny village of 600 is now grown to about 6000 due to the Royal Caribbean Cruise lines development of the penninsula as a private resort destination for their ships. (The newly constructed dock helped ferry supplies into the country in the immediate aftermath of the recent earthquake. Now it hosts luxurious vessels.) Labadee sits nestled by the edge of the sea separated by tall volcanic peaks from Cap Haitien to the south. Along this northern coast, most stay where they are or travel by boats, usually well-worn dinghies patched and rowed by net wielding fishermen. We were lucky enough to escape the RCI penninsula for the morning on the Haitian Cultural Tour excursion.

We boarded a water taxi with about 30 others. The owner of the tour, an American ex-pat, and two Haitian young men took us to Paradise Cove.

Roberto summarized Haiti's long and difficult history while we remarked on the beautiful, mostly untouched coastline and the huge mountains which rose so steeply from the water's edge.

Paradise Cove, when we arrived, was one of the most unspoiled beaches I'd ever seen, and we waded ashore through soft white sand and protected, gentle tropical waters. The palm-spotted beach was backed by steep mountains with only one house and a boathouse nearby, built into the hillside. Once ashore, the group was divided into two smaller groups each taking turns on the climb up the zig zagging hillside path to the village, while the remainder enjoyed relaxing on the beach, or on lounges floating in the calm turquoise water.

I've read some online critiques of this “village” tour because the village was created specifically for the purpose of educating and entertaining tourists.

My own response was, “So are Plimoth Plantation and Sturbridge village” in my home state of Massachusetts. Locals employed to re-inact what life was like in the sixteen and eighteen hundreds. I see no real difference. The Haitians employed by this tour are locals hired to demonstrate how things are done in the villages inland—which we'd never have any chance to see, otherwise. It's not perfect, but it helped me begin to understand a bit.

And it pumps money into the local economy. Those who were hired as guides had excellent English while the “villagers” had much less, but the craftsmen had the opportunity to sell work and the musicians and guides got additional tips. The tour owner is the second largest employer in the area with about 25 locals at work here.

I came away from this tour with some new perspective. In particular I was fascinated by how many activities in the village require an extended charcoal fire...it's so easy for us to criticize from afar those who cut and burn the rainforest for the trees. If you are stuck without the ability to buy charcoal or wood, you make your own from whatever you can find. The Haitian villagers, we were led to believe, are basically “living off the land” around them. It may not be “sustainable” but it sustains the family then and there. It's very arrogant to make moral judgments on those who have so little, especially without offering an alternative.

The owner also commented at the changes he'd observed over the last three decades in Haiti and in the Dominican Republic. He said that the decision in the 80's by the Dominican government to invest in infrastructure—roads, airports, etc.--had made all the difference. Infrastructure brought investment and construction all along the coastline and now there is a thriving tourist industry with resorts, condos, cruises, and the businesses that supply them. In his words, he's even noticed the existence of an emerging middle class in DR who can now consume goods and keep the economy going. In Haiti, by contrast, any attempt to develop has only landed money into corrupt government pockets over the last 30+ years, discouraging potential building. How sad. Clearly the country has equally spectacular scenery and shoreline, ripe for some thoughtful development, if only there was a stable and honest government to deal with.

Overall, Paradise Cove was a little piece of heaven and a place I'd go back to in a flash.

Beautiful, restful, and educational. I'm sure it's only an approximation of the reality of the interior of Haiti—kind of like Plato's cave shadows. But it's far more than those who stayed on the RCI Labadee private peninsula got to see. They could have been on any well kept beach in the Caribbean; no reminders anywhere that they were actually in Haiti.

Samana, Dominican Republic

Samana, is both the name of a town and the name for the entire peninsula on the northeastern shore of the Dominican Republic. Far less developed than several other areas of DR, Samana is just now coming into its own. Separated from the rest of the Dominican Republic by Samana Bay, this area is rapidly evolving with new amenities for visitors constantly being developed. There's lots of undeveloped and preserved land nearby, with waterfall excursions and trips to Los Haitises National Preserve easily available. We chose a simpler excursion, avoiding the climb to the archeological cave sites due to Terry's problem knee.

Instead we spent a bit of time ashore shopping and talking to people we met, including shop owners and hawkers and the very persistent sidewalk salesmen. We got to ride in one of the "Dominican limousines", which are the typical Dominican scooter attached to a cart that seats 4-6 passengers.

We'd seen the ubiquitous scooters without carts previously on our honeymoon near Puerta Plata, often with three people perched precariously on them riding to work or around town. Terry believes they all need a tune up and was amazed at the amount of oil spewing from their tailpipes. We watched dancers performing for the the tourists and then boarded our catamaran to sail across a portion of the bay to Cayo Levantado, a renown beach. About 25 of us boarded with all the young folks sitting up front on the net to catch the splash--they weren't disappointed with the winds we had as we raced, tacking back and forth across the bay.

We stopped on a fairly deserted strand of trees and beach to try some of the local fruit and have a rum drink. Then it was back aboard, sailing to a snorkel spot where the crew loaned gear to those of us who wanted to see if we could spot turtles or other wildlife.

It wasn't nearly as good a snorkel location as we'd visited the day before in Trunk Bay St. John, but interesting to try to snorkel in such choppy water. I lasted longer than Terry did, but mostly learned how hard it is to put on and remove gear when the boat is rocking in the sea. The sailboat was delightful and the crew as friendly as we've come to expect. The Dominican people may bemoan the tourists privately (as we all do here on the Cape) but publicly they couldn't be more delighted to interact with us. Even the myriad brown pelicans around the island as we approached didn't seem to mind our company.

Last stop was at Cayo Levantado, but we had little time to wander or relax on the island due to the mix up with the tenders. We were dropped there late and together with others were worried that we'd never make it back to the ship, waiting for tenders that didn't show. I did manage to take a brief walk for some pictures.

We were eventually rescued by Benny Weidacher, the hotel director, who just happened to be relaxing on the island on his time off. He proved to be a charming, delightful man who helped explain what had happened. Unfortunately the unexpected strong winds in the bay and the equally unexpected appearance of two other cruise vessels in the harbor put a strain on the tender service and caused problems and delays. We all survived and I would love to return for a longer stay. Samana has much I would love to explore when Terry's more able to do so...horseback riding to the waterfall, climbing to the Taino carvings in the park and more.

Cruising....#2 Reflections on San Juan

Our first port of call was a late afternoon (far too brief) stop in old San Juan. Terry and I hiked up to El Moro through the narrow, steep, cobblestone streets, during an extremely hot afternoon. We viewed the signs of franchise civilization as an affront, though the residents proudly brag about their "Starbucks" and "Wendy's" as if they convey some kind of impressive status. We were far more impressed by the varied colors of stucco walls and the amazing mosaic tiled into stair risers hiding behind intricate wrought iron gates. Everything seemed tilted, so we gave up trying to take pictures that would look straight.

Turning a corner, we came upon a fountain jammed by kids, similar to the one I saw on the Rose Kennedy Greenway in Boston last summer. Kids and pulsating water--can there be a more joyful sight?

One lone policeman stood off to the side smiling as he agreed to have his picture taken by a young woman (his girlfriend?). I saw one father grab up his son, about 10 years old and run splashing with him into the water...it was a perfect Sunday outing for local families.

Just beyond the fountain we came to the huge und

ulating grassy field that leads to the fort. My immediate reaction to the sight was that every family in San Juan who wasn't playing in the fountain was flying a kite in the skies over El Moro.

The winds were brisk and there were more kites than could be counted, flown aloft by people of all ages--from children thrilled with their independence to young couples, dancing their individual kites flirtatiously with each other, 100 plus feet overhead. Triangles of every color and many sizes with long trailing tails bobbed and jigged on high. Families sat together enjoying the breeze and the view and whatever picnic they'd brought along. I briefly pondered the inability to actually do justice to the scene with my camera and Terry commented that if it was back in the states, there'd be lots of complicated styles of kites and you'd be able to tell who had more money by the elaborateness of their kite. Here they were all pretty simple and I couldn't tell the professionals from the laborers. Apparently this spot is a favorite for a day like this and we just happened to catch it alive with families.

Our last stop was for something to eat. We decided to try a small eatery based on their A-frame sidewalk sign, and the nice young man hawking for them. When we agreed to go in, he carefully led us through the dress shop and the men's shirts behind, to a four table restaurant in the rear, where he also seated us and took our order. The kitchen was up a few stairs to the side and I think his sister was the one waitress who brought our food. I got a chance to try Mofongo, which Terry's graduate student Christian had recommended as a local speciality. It was really interesting and quite good. Mofongo is mashed plaintains cooked with bacon bits and formed into a mound on a plate. You dip forkfulls into a bit of olive oil as you eat. It's probably not the heathiest thing, but very tasty. I also had a chicken Quesadilla and got so much food I couldn't finish.

Our leisurely walk back to the cruise ship was late enough on Sunday evening that most shops had closed, so we weren't tempted to buy anthing...only street vendors were available. I just wished we'd had longer to explore. Maybe someday I'll go back and I'll have a chance to get out of the city and visit the rain forest. Perhaps.

Cruising....#1

Cruising is such an odd way to travel. The elaborate design of the cruise ship creates a world within which we are encapsulated in luxury and comfort. Three tier dining rooms, and ice rink with a show (!), a room steward neatening up after us three times a day, entertainment and activities to suit every taste. A total disconnect is created with our real world selves (much needed by some) but unfortunately also from most of the hordes of people around us. Cruise lines have gone for bigger and bigger ships, so they’ve become a city afloat, and like a city, individuals become anonymous faces

in the crowd. I suspect it would be a wonderful way to travel with a group of family or friends, but as a couple, it’s actually hard to find others to interact with beyond the random dinner partners assigned to our table. For that reason I requested a large table hoping to meet a bunch of other people,only to have a mix up at last minute that sat us at a table for 6 with only two others in residence. An elderly mother with COPD and her adult son. They were lovely to talk to, but not what we’d hoped for in sharing our interests or wanting to join us for activities. Those we did meet on excursions seemed to be either younger folks headed to more active sites in a group of friends, or older travelers who complained when their every need wasn’t instantly accommodated.

I enjoyed the relaxation, the visits to ports, the time to read in a lounge chair undisturbed, and the time spent with Terry in conversations we never have time to share at home, but parts of this trip made me nostalgic for camping and for bed and breakfast inns where everyone talks to everyone else….a very different type of travel indeed. I returned rested and relaxed, but wishing I’d had more time in some places and more people who’d left an impression. More on those who did....in another entry.