The Dominican Republic, as far as we are concerned consists of two restaurants, a beach bar and a large palm tree lined swimming pool, that could use a touch up. We have arrived in resort land and have settled in.
The Club Med’s bracelets are securely fastened around our wrist and are showing signs of wear. We nod to The Shiny Happy People, also known as the G.O’s (Gracious Organisers, apparently), who walk briskly through the camp cheerfully shouting “bonjour”, allowing them their celebrity status as we should. We have even resorted to putting our beach towels on the deck chairs before breakfast to secure a spot.
I’d forgotten about the Beautifully Tanned Lean People (the French kind), who look like they have been on holiday forever. They are here too. We, a luminous, fleshy foursome wading through the pool, will not look like that even when we leave, but slowly at least we are not radiating greyness anymore.
We tried out the Kids Club, our main reason for coming here, I might just emphasise, and Jip thought it was alright the first two (half) days. He only attempted to escape twice, until they nailed him down. Then he was fine. Now he says he will not go to Kids’s club even if it means his father will not swim with him in the afternoon and he can’t have a pain au chocolat in the morning. So, he doesn’t want to go. Actually I don’t blame him, being herded around in groups of twenty mainly French speaking kids, of which at least three at any time are screaming for their parents, and being forced to shout “chocolat o’ la, la” very loudly. Allard doesn’t see why he shouldn’t like it, but then again he is a sucker for anything that is meant to get a crowd going. I am rather worried. A. is taking to the resort concept like a fish to water. He has mentioned the salsa lesson at least three times. I think I am safe this first week as he is still too exhausted to actually do anything, all talk so far, but he is gaining strength.
Rosie goes to the petit club each morning and only cries for ten minutes when we drop her off. In the afternoons she like to stand in the paddling pool and shout “hi” to eight year old boys who all look rather shocked by the apparition of a big white toddler in a swim diaper trying to stroke their backs.
Now that the Kid’s club issue has been settled, Jip thinks he has died and gone to heaven. He is in the pool all day and at morning, lunch and dinner the buffet gets him very excited. So many things to choose from, he might just have to have pizza, pasta and fries again. And would we like something? Because he would be very willing to get it for us.
Last night we got a babysitter and had a meal which lasted longer than ten minutes and involved us sitting at the table at the same time. Later we experienced a bar full of people exploding simultaneously, without warning, into synchronized dancing, under the firm direction of a G.O. “back , back, a gauche, a gauche, all together now, oooooo Ahh, step, step. These people had done it before. It was astounding, appalling, but quite appealing too. No, we did not join in, but speak to us at the end of the week. They have ways to make you here.
Got to run now. The lunch buffet has opened. Italian day today.
Sister 2, how was Casablanca?
Sister 3 , how is the second half of your summer?
Love from sister 1, in bikini.