We spent a week in Cabeza de Toro (“the head of the bull”), Dominican Republic, to attend my spouse’s sister’s destination wedding. This wasn’t the kind of vacation I usually take, but it was a much-needed vacation to take a break from our daily routines and to ward off the burn out that is always creeping in this time of year.
I had never been here before, even though the Dominican Republic is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the Caribbean, with its classically picture-perfect white sand beaches along the turquoise-tinted ocean, lined with thick palm tree groves. I immensely enjoyed how easy-going everyone and everything seemed to be.
I found myself settling into a different new routine pretty readily. I started my days at sunrise, running along the main road past the local markets until the sidewalks ended. I greeted hola to the various workers making their way to their jobs and stopping off at roadside snack stands. I wove around the street dogs sleeping on the asphalt as well as the broods of chickens aggressively guarding what they saw as their territorial parts of the sidewalk. I was training for my upcoming winter triathlon, although this was certainly not the right climate for it. Even at sunrise, the day’s humidity was already creeping in. I’m still not sure whether I prefer running in humid heat or freezing cold. Probably neither. I’m actually not a fan of running at all, as it's my least favourite activity of the triathlon. But at least the sights were interesting which helped the time go by quickly.
By the time I’d get back to my hotel room, I would be drenched in sweat and ready to jump in the pool. Rob and I had opted for a hotel room with a “swim out” option, which meant that our back sliding door opened up to our own semi-private pool that we shared only with the other units on our block. It was the perfect way to cool down after a humid run. I’d go for a quick dip, and then we’d go for breakfast, where I tried to eat as many unfamiliar fruits as I could.
After breakfast, I took part in the daily yoga classes offered on the beach, listening to the rhythm of the ocean while stretching out all the sore muscles I’d never had time to properly attend to. I watched the majestic birds hovering in the wind above my head, who looked like they were surfing in the air.
나도 같이 시를 쓴다
by Yi Un-Sang
Up above the shimmering sea
two or three seagulls are hovering
rolling, wheeling, they write a poem
I do not know the alphabet they use
On the broad expanse of sky
I will write a poem too
Because I come from a landlocked hometown, I wanted to spend as much time as possible in and on the ocean: snorkeling, paddleboarding, kayaking, clumsily trying to learn the backstroke. I took the paddleboard out and visited a pen where they kept dolphins. I watched the dolphins jump out of the water through the air, and felt sorry that they were captive. Another day, I paddled a kayak out in the opposite direction to see how long the sand bar stayed shallowed, and watched sea turtles swim around me.
One afternoon, we took a boat out farther into the ocean to go snorkeling. There were little fish all around us. I loved the feeling of my body floating in the ocean, as though all my aches and pains were being soothed and melted away as I bobbed with the waves. I sat dangling my legs off the bow of the boat, looking at the palm tree groves along the shoreline and the brilliant sparkle of the sea. It’s times like this I wish I lived near the ocean.
The evenings I spent going to the gym, being adventurous at dinner, playing chess poorly with my spouse, practicing my poor Spanish with the staff and generally relaxing. A couple of times we actually stayed up late and we even went dancing one night.
We were there for my spouse’s sister’s wedding, my first time at a beach wedding. It was beautiful occasion, as the bride and groom spoke their vows against the backdrop of the ocean, like a scene from the movies. Other people on the beach stopped to witness this special celebration of love and family. I hid my slippers under a table and went barefoot for the ceremony, enjoying the tactile sensation of sand between my toes. After the ceremony, the adults drank sparkling wine while I did cartwheels in the sand with my young nephew.
For the most part, though, we took it easy and rested, and relished in the guilt-free experience of doing nothing at all, except drinking absurd amounts of boozy coffee and club soda, eating exorbitant quantities of dessert and reading to my heart’s content.
