We have arrived in Punta Cana! We are just sitting in the main lobby of our hotel now, awaiting our room to be ready. Ya'll, it is HOT. Like, North Carolina in August minus the option of air conditioning plus the stupidity of wearing jeans because I was traveling on a plane and plane are always cold HOT.
The deal is that I'm contracted as the personal trainer here at this lovely resort for up to 3 hours a day, in exchange for us getting to stay here - room, food, drinks - for the mere cost of one night's stay, 2 plane tickets, deportation tax, and the taxi ride from hell. Not a bad deal, if you can arrive here without losing your lunch in the taxi. I swear, the ride here made a Manhattan taxi ride look like a Sunday drive with Nanta and Pa. There are no lines on the road, stop signs apparently are optional, motorcycles are merely temporarily distractions to swerve around, oncoming traffic is No Big Deal when passing, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me that speed limit is in kilometers? After awhile, I just shut my eyes and prayed that if we crashed, the ER doc sitting next to me would still be conscious because I'd rather take my chances on him saving my life with something out of our toiletry kit than go to the Punta Cana hospital - if there is one.
But we made it, and we're here waiting and the resort looks gorgeous. The resort is kind of u-shaped facing the beach, and there's two pools. One is the quiet pool, probably more family-friendly, and the other currently has Jock Jams pumping and the swim-up bar is jam packed. The resort is more international than I thought it would be - I just sort of assumed (estupida americana) that all the staff people would habla ingles. Not so much. Fortunately, my Spanish is reliably coming back to me.
Now, if we could just get in our rooms (and a/c) and get into bathing suits... it's vacay time!
A holiday-ready kitchen
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