Where In The World Wednesday: Dominican Republic

 

It's time for Where in the World Wednesday again, hosted by Classy in Philadelphia.  If you want to take part, all you have to do is post a picture of someplace in the world, then visit the comments section on Classy in Philadelphia's post to see who else is participating, and leave your link so that other participants can visit your blog too. Remember to use the WITWW button in your post.

This week, I'm going to tell you about a holiday B and I went on in November 2005, to the Dominican Republic. Once ruled by Spain, the Dominican Republic is the second largest Caribbean nation (after Cuba), and shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti, the country recently devastated by an earthquake.

We went at the end of the Atlantic hurricane season, that year the most active in recorded history.....a season in which hurricanes Dennis, Emily, Katrina, Rita, and Wilma struck with horrific consequences. During our stay, the Dominican Republic caught the tail end of at least two tropical storms... we had 6 days of rain out of 14, but luckily nothing on a par with the storms that hit other parts of the Caribbean, Mexico, Florida and Louisiana.

We stayed in a resort on the mountainous north side of the island, an area renowned for its lush, tropical landscape and golden sandy beaches. Most days we spent just lying on the beach, reading, soaking up the sun (when it was actually shining), partaking of a few too many rum cocktails, and swimming and snorkelling in the deliciously warm ocean.....

Every day, the "looky-looky" men and women would descend upon the beach, eager to sell their wares to the tourists. They'd call "looky-looky!" as they walked the length of the beach, trying to entice us to have a look at their jewellery and knick knacks. One man went a bit further than that, endlessly calling...."looky-looky, touchy-touchy, likey-likey, buy-buy!"

"Looky-looky!"

They did get on my nerves after a while, but by the end of the holiday I'd succumbed to buying a set of dolphins carved out of petrified wood....

One of the highlights of the holiday was a helicopter trip over the North coast...

View of the resort from the helicopter

Heading for the mountain

The best day of the holiday, though, was the one we spent at Ocean World Adventure Park, a beautiful marine park with dolphins, sea lions, sharks, stingrays, tropical birds and fish. There, we had the opportunity to swim with dolphins...apparently one of the things everyone MUST do at some time in their lives. Well, to be honest, while it was a very exciting experience (the best part was when the dolphins swam up next to us, allowing us to hold their fin and then dragged us for a high speed ride), it was also quite weird and a bit scary for me....not helped by the fact that my dolphin was a bit frisky. The trainer warned us not to touch the dolphins in certain places, as they can get excited in that way...I didn't go near mine but she definitely had a gleam in her eye, and was a bit too enthusiastic in general. She swam up to me at one point, nudged me in the ear with her nose and then suddenly flipped backwards under the water...whacking my foot hard with her flipper as she did so. Man, did it hurt! My foot was black and blue for a week after that. I must be the only human to have been injured by a dolphin....

The dolphin pools at Ocean World

Tucan at Ocean World

On Agony And Aikido

I do sometimes wonder if I took leave of my senses the day I signed up for Aikido classes. Why else would I voluntarily spend 3 hours on a Sunday afternoon getting thrown about a gymnasium, acquiring new bruises on top of my older, fading bruises when I could be....well, doing pretty much anything else that does not involve strenuous physical activity and the possibility of long-term injury?

Yesterday, in place of our usual evening class, we had a special afternoon course that was run by a Very Important Aikido Dude (he’s been practising for 47 years and is 7th Dan whereas our Sensei [instructor] has only been in the game a mere 17 years and is a lowly 2nd Dan). The visit by O Great One was something of a highlight in our Sensei’s calendar...he’s been like a little boy the day before Christmas for the past couple of weeks and has been getting us primed in the correct etiquette for the visit.

You could tell he was a bit anxious that we would not behave ourselves appropriately, as we are fairly easygoing as a club, unlike some of the other Aikido clubs around here that are apparently very formal and do stand on ceremony somewhat. Of course, this provided me with some ammunition to take the piss a bit with our Sensei (normally a very relaxed type of bloke who’s up for a laugh)....

Me: “So you’re saying we shouldn’t pitch up on the day with Karate Kid style headbands?”
Sensei: “Er....no.”
Me: “Hey, how do you feel about me tie-dying my gi for the occasion? I’ve heard if you throw a red sock and a blue sock in and wash it on 90°C, you can get a great colour mix?”
Sensei: “Don’t even think about it!”

Unsuitable Aikido attire:

Picture found HERE

Picture found HERE

At the same time, I was a bit apprehensive about this visit by O Great One, as I’d heard via the grapevine that he was fairly hardcore and has left black belts squealing by the end of his class.

Me: “So, he does know that some of us have only been doing this for a couple of months?”
Sensei: “I’ve given him a rundown on everyone’s abilities” [Read: "He knows that you are useless!”]

Finally, after weeks of anticipation and preparation, it’s the day before O Great One's Class, and guess what?! I wake up with an excruciating pain in my right leg. It’s so bad that I can’t lift my leg more than 2 cm off the ground, and to get off the bed or in and out the bath, I have to lift my leg using both my hands clasped behind my knee. Going up and down stairs is sheer torture, and takes about 10 minutes of “decrepit old lady shuffling”...I told B to “Shoot me now, coz if this is what old age has in store for me, I’m not sure I want to be around for it!” I have no idea what I did to my leg as I was walking around just fine the day before, so I don't think I injured it in Thursday's class. I took two long, hot baths to try and soothe the muscles, tried every leg stretch in the book, and was popping pills four-hourly, but nothing seemed to ease the pain.

I’d moreorless resigned myself to the fact that I was not going to be capable of walking up the stairs to the dojo for the class the next day, let alone spend 3 hours lunging, grappling, rolling and falling about the mat. I was incredibly annoyed, as I was keen to take the class and was sure that Sensei would think I was just chickening out....although to be fair, he may have been secretly relieved if The One Who Doesn’t Know Her Left Leg From Her Right was not there to show him up in front of O Great One.

Anyway, I hardly slept Saturday night from the leg discomfort, and woke up groggy on Sunday (the clocks moving forward to Summer Time with a subsequent loss of one hour’s sleep hardly helped). My leg was still throbbing, but I was adamant I was going to go along anyway, even if I had to just watch the class from the sidelines. I’m hobbling up the stairs (in my pure white gi and headbandless) and run into Sensei, who is positively bristling with excitement, on his way to meet and greet O Great One. I mentioned that I was the 'Walking Wounded', so he should please excuse me should I retreat to the back to watch. He said to “do only what you feel comfortable with doing”. [Read: "Why don't you just sit out for the whole class and thereby not embarrass me!"]

Either the accumulated dose of painkillers I’d popped the day before suddenly kicked in or the intensive warm-up stretches at the start of the class pulled my muscles back into shape, but I somehow lasted the full 3 hours without stepping out once. I thoroughly enjoyed the class....O Great One was completely affable and down to earth, spending lots of time with each of us. There were also five black belts with from his dojo, always on hand to demonstrate the techniques so we learnt a lot more than in a typical class. I was utterly shattered afterwards and in bed by 8 pm, but so glad I managed to attend the class in the end.

And today, many new bruises but thankfully no pain....

Red, Yellow, Blue

I had the day off from work today and went to explore Woburn Village in Bedfordshire. The town is surrounded by the Estate of the Duke of Bedford, and has an interesting mix of over 200 listed buildings (mostly Georgian) that house antique shops, art galleries, pubs and restaurants.

As usual, I took quite a few photos while walking around. When I got home and looked at them more closely, I noticed that there was a touch of red, yellow or blue in each one.....

Blue fence railings, Old St Mary's Church

Blue gate and red berries

Blue sky, Old St Mary's (medieval)

Blue door

Blue door and yellow daffodil

Blue sky, red and blue of the Union Jack, and blue window frames

Blue sky, "new" St Mary's (1868)

Red door, St Mary's

Red lamp post, St Mary's

More yellow daffodils

Red-bricked buildings

Village sign and tubs of flowers

In This City

I was down in London for business yesterday. I didn't get much chance to do anything else really, but I did capture the ever changing city scape while crossing the Hungerford Bridge....

There was time for a quick stroll past Lord Nelson, perched high above Trafalgar Square....

And to say hello to another famous Nelson....

Then a fleeting visit to The National Gallery to feast my eyes on my three favourite paintings hanging in there.....

Les Parapluies by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies by Claude Monet

Sunflowers by Vincent van Gogh

Where In The World Wednesday: Jersey

Where in the World Wednesday is a weekly feature run by Classy in Philadelphia, that I came across through P at *Insert My Blog Name Here*. The idea of WITWW is to post a picture of you someplace in the world...it doesn't have to be somewhere foreign or tropical. It might even be somewhere in your own hometown.

I thought taking part would be a good way to brag about show you some of the places both near and far that I have been lucky enough to visit in recent years. I won’t be posting pictures of myself as I much prefer to be behind the lens, but I think the concept is the same. Why don’t you participate too? Just use the WITWW button created by Feris in your post, then visit the comments on Classy in Philadelphia to see who else is taking part and leave your link in her comments section so that other participants can visit your blog too.

So, I’m starting off this week quite close to home.... on Jersey, the largest of the Channel Islands, which is located just off the coast of Normandy, France. Jersey has been a self-governing British Crown Dependency since 1066, and is therefore not part of the United Kingdom. Low income taxes lure tax exiles to the islands, and visitors can take advantage of the tax-free shopping opportunities.

Map taken from HERE

Victor Hugo described the Channel Islands as “pieces of France fallen into the sea and picked up by England”. Indeed, Jersey holds many similarities to mainland Britain, but is typically sunnier and warmer and has subtle French influences....particularly in the place names and the food.

The island has beautiful beaches and coastlines with spectacular cliffs, authentic French restaurants and a rich cultural heritage of monuments, from prehistoric tombs to medieval castles. There are also several grim reminders that the islands were occupied by the Germans during World War II...such as the artillery direction-finding towers dotted all around the island. Jersey is home to the Durrell Wildlife Conservation Trust too.

B and I spent a fabulous, sunny week on Jersey in spring 2003. We stayed in a B&B and hired a car to explore the island from top to bottom...it’s possible to cross the island in under half an hour (and that’s driving on the narrow little roads at the maximum speed limit of 30 miles per hour).

We'd bought our first digital camera just before the trip, and experimented a lot with the different settings. Here's a selection of my pictures...

Plemont Bay

Devil's Hole

Corbiere Lighthouse

St Ouen's Bay

 

 Royal Bay of Grouville

Royal Bay of Grouville with Mount Orgueil Castle in the background

Mount Orgueil Castle

Tulips in the Churchill Gardens

The grounds at Samares Manor

Elizabeth Castle - access by causeway at low tide, amphibious vehicle when the tide is full

Lalique glass altarpiece in the Glass Church

"Camel Rock"

The Kindness of Strangers

It always amazes me how generous British people are when it comes to donating money to charitable causes...like the current Sports Relief campaign, which so far has raised over £31 million. For the benefit of non British readers, every year celebrities undergo extreme challenges (like the comedian Eddie Izzard's “43 Marathons in 51 Days”) to raise funds for good causes in the UK and abroad. If you’re interested, you can read more about this HERE.

Have you ever been the recipient of a random act of kindness? Has a complete stranger done something nice for you...not just because they had to as part of their job, or because they hoped to get something back in return?

Last autumn, B and I were travelling back to Sorrento from Herculaneum, and rather naively, we’d hopped on board a train at Ercolano, assuming that all trains from Naples ran to Sorrento when in fact the train line branches shortly after Ercolano. We would have ended up who-knows-where (Rome?), if it wasn’t for the kind Italian gent sitting opposite us....he must have overheard us saying something about Sorrento, as, with a mixture of Italian and English and much wild gesturing, he managed to convince us to get off the train at the next stop and change platforms. Grazie!

This past weekend, I went shopping for a few bits and bobs, including face cream in a well known UK chemist. As I’ve recently been (vainly and vainly!) trying to reverse the damage that a childhood under the hot African sun does to skin better suited to the damp British climate, I was splashing out on a up-market cream that promises to hold the elixir of youth within its tiny (and highly expensive) glass vial walls. Clutching my basket of goods in one hand, and a much-prized voucher for £5 off said esteemed product in the other, I went up to the till to pay. The friendly shop assistant quietly told me she would ring up the other bits of shopping first, which would earn me another £5 off voucher, and then she would ring each of the two face creams I was buying separately, as that way I could claim £5 off each one! Wasn’t that nice of her? Sometimes, just a small, kind act can really make your day...

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.
AESOP, The Lion and the Mouse

Kindness begets kindness evermore.
SOPHOCLES, Ajax

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.
TENNESSEE WILLIAMS, A Streetcar Named Desire

Diary Of An Ordinary Woman

I’m currently reading the ‘Diary of an Ordinary Woman’ by Margaret Forster. The book is a very cleverly put together work of fiction, a novel written in the style of a diary. But it is such a realistic “diary” that many readers of the first edition were duped into thinking it was indeed the memoirs of Millicent King, who was born in 1901 and kept a continuous record of her life from 1914 to 1995. Later editions of the book make it clear that it is in fact a novel.

Apparently, Forster (a well known novelist, biographer, memoirist and social historian) received a letter from the person to whom the book is dedicated, saying that her 98-year old mother had kept a diary since she was 13. The woman proposed that Forster edit her mother’s diaries for publication, but then the diarist’s granddaughter got very upset, as her grandmother had promised her the diaries, so the project was axed. Forster decided to go ahead anyway...not with the original diaries, of course, but with the idea of an "ordinary woman" whose private jottings provide insight into what it was like to be one of the many women who lived through the two world wars. It makes for fascinating reading, as Foster has clearly thoroughly researched the period for the background to the novel, and strongly develops Millie’s character through very believable diary entries. The narrative gradually change in style to match Millie growing up and going through life.

One of my regrets in life is that I didn’t keep a regular diary...not that I’ve lead a particularly exciting life (yet), but it would perhaps have been interesting to someday look back over my younger days and remember what I was thinking and feeling at that time. I would imagine the entry on the day I met B would have been something along the lines of...

Can’t remember exact day, March 1995
Full morning of lectures and Biochem prac pm. Annoying postgrad dude was hanging around, trying to chat up T [lab partner] - she is not interested but still strings him along. Went to dinner early with A&F. Usual crappy res. swill. M was there with his friend, B – what an arsehole! Thinks he’s some kind of god coz he’s studying comp sci at Tech and did his work experience in London. Kept throwing insults in my direction, so I had to retaliate. Asked him why he has no other friends that he has to hang around varsity students on a Friday night. Apparently, he’s some school friend of M’s visiting for the weekend. Just hope he’s not going to be hanging around now all the time. Went to ‘The Naught’ for some drinks with A, F, M. That B tagged along too, of course. M&B were quite drunk. I was too but pretended to be very sober, just to prove a point to B. He was being friendly with some other girl. She’s welcome to him.

I suppose it’s never too late to start keeping a diary. In fact, some blogs take the form of diary...a daily record of one’s life and the happenings in the world at the time. Just for fun, here are the "entries" for the last two days of my life....

Wed, 17 March 2010
Absolutely shattered. Hardly slept last night, as usual before a trip to the office. Tried taking melatonin this time as it worked when we went to LA, but maybe it’s just good for jetlag. Have now exhausted (ha ha!) all sleeping aids available without prescription. Miraculously managed to drive to Oxford without falling asleep at the wheel and causing carnage on a mass scale. Did almost get taken out by truck driver in the Roundabout of Death near M40. Cotswolds are looking so pretty in the spring sunshine – snowdrops and daffodils at the verges. Spent most of the day in meetings re Big Nob Client. Crap, another project for them. Ate too much cake, N's birthday. Drive home was long but OK – had to slow down twice to let pheasants cross the road – dumbass birds! So relieved to finally get home. B made delicious Toad In The Hole. Long bath and bed by 930.


Thurs, 18 March 2010
Still feeling washed out from Tues night - how do people cope with constant sleep deprivation, when they have small kids? Pressurised day, deadline for Big Nob Client. Worked till 7 then went to Aikido. Too tired to think properly and messed up all techniques. Spiderman [dude with rings in ear, nose, lip and possibly other unmentionable places] almost broke my arm. Sensei told him to slow down and think more! Tattoo Man showed me nifty wrist twist manoeuvre. Someone was farting loudly the whole class...wasn’t me, but I did worry after baked beans on toast lunch. Got back at 10 and had to reply to some emails from Big Nob Client. Too wound up to sleep till midnight; watched “The Body Guard”...what a load of old cods! Can’t believe I once thought KC was quite hot. Remember “Robin Hood”?

Hmmm, perhaps it’s best if I stick with my “random but hopefully slightly interesting or maybe even funny tales” style of blog entry. My life is far too boring for daily postings and someone has already published ‘Diary of A Nobody’ (a very funny read if you ever get the chance).