Gerry
02-10-2008, 05:51 PM
I'm sitting here looking out at the wind swept hills and thinking sorry for myself. Life's rough I dared to think and then I drift back to a holiday we had a few years ago.
It was our second week of the holiday but I still hadn't got used to the brutal heat and the humidity that meant every breathe was like sucking in steam direct from the spout of a kettle. Every effort resulted in the loss of some more of those precious salts in those beads of sweat that raced down your back. The other option was to lay perfectly still and that blazing sun soon would make it's mark on my blue white skin.
I took up residence under the grass roofed cabana making sure every inch of my sun lounger was in the shade and watched the turquoise ocean deliver white crested waves onto the steep sloping shore. Even with the wrap around protection of good sun glasses failed to dim the sun reflecting on the brilliant talc white coral sand.
I decided to bite the bullet and go for a stroll along the waters edge bluffing myself that the spray from the crashing waves would keep me cool as I walked along. I soon had passed the uniform rank of cabanas each containing two crisping tourists. The limit of the five star resort was marked by the sentry hut housing the huge guy in that formal white uniform topped by the colonial white broad brimmed pith helmet.
I had escaped the constant attention of the numerous attentive staff looking to refresh your iced drink or entertain you with the constant range of sports and games. I was free to see the real Dominican. The un-uniformed natural disorganised existence that was life in that developing country.
I had only gone a few hundred yards when I saw an elderly looking man with skin like leather from years of exposure to the sun and sea. What little hair he had was bleached silver and the wispy curls stood out on his dark scalp. He had been walking in front of me with two plastic bags, one in each hand. He went up the string of coconut trees lining the narrow beach and retrieved a bundle that he carefully placed across his shoulders.
I watched him wade chest deep into the crashing waves and start to throw handfuls of something from one of the plastic bags onto the water. My curiosity got the better of me and I took up position under the trees and their precious shade to watch what he was up to. I was amazed to see splashes of silver come to meet the substance he was sprinkling close by him. Closer examination showed me he was using the stale bread rolls discarded by the hotels as bait for the fish that shoaled about him.
Then with the mastery of a Spanish Bullfighter he spun the bundle draped over his shoulders into a perfect circular mesh screen before casting it expertly over the surface. An experienced tug of the connecting rope seen the net rapidly close around the silver darlings tempted to their doom by the free lunch.
The beaming toothless smile glowing from his face told me he was well pleased with his catch and he wouldn't go hungry tonight.
An unforgettable sight and one that made me appreciate the extravagance of the luxury I was living in just a few hundred yards away.
By Gerry Temple
copyright February 2008
It was our second week of the holiday but I still hadn't got used to the brutal heat and the humidity that meant every breathe was like sucking in steam direct from the spout of a kettle. Every effort resulted in the loss of some more of those precious salts in those beads of sweat that raced down your back. The other option was to lay perfectly still and that blazing sun soon would make it's mark on my blue white skin.
I took up residence under the grass roofed cabana making sure every inch of my sun lounger was in the shade and watched the turquoise ocean deliver white crested waves onto the steep sloping shore. Even with the wrap around protection of good sun glasses failed to dim the sun reflecting on the brilliant talc white coral sand.
I decided to bite the bullet and go for a stroll along the waters edge bluffing myself that the spray from the crashing waves would keep me cool as I walked along. I soon had passed the uniform rank of cabanas each containing two crisping tourists. The limit of the five star resort was marked by the sentry hut housing the huge guy in that formal white uniform topped by the colonial white broad brimmed pith helmet.
I had escaped the constant attention of the numerous attentive staff looking to refresh your iced drink or entertain you with the constant range of sports and games. I was free to see the real Dominican. The un-uniformed natural disorganised existence that was life in that developing country.
I had only gone a few hundred yards when I saw an elderly looking man with skin like leather from years of exposure to the sun and sea. What little hair he had was bleached silver and the wispy curls stood out on his dark scalp. He had been walking in front of me with two plastic bags, one in each hand. He went up the string of coconut trees lining the narrow beach and retrieved a bundle that he carefully placed across his shoulders.
I watched him wade chest deep into the crashing waves and start to throw handfuls of something from one of the plastic bags onto the water. My curiosity got the better of me and I took up position under the trees and their precious shade to watch what he was up to. I was amazed to see splashes of silver come to meet the substance he was sprinkling close by him. Closer examination showed me he was using the stale bread rolls discarded by the hotels as bait for the fish that shoaled about him.
Then with the mastery of a Spanish Bullfighter he spun the bundle draped over his shoulders into a perfect circular mesh screen before casting it expertly over the surface. An experienced tug of the connecting rope seen the net rapidly close around the silver darlings tempted to their doom by the free lunch.
The beaming toothless smile glowing from his face told me he was well pleased with his catch and he wouldn't go hungry tonight.
An unforgettable sight and one that made me appreciate the extravagance of the luxury I was living in just a few hundred yards away.
By Gerry Temple
copyright February 2008