The first thing I noticed after leaving the resort in Punta Cana was that, after catching an overpriced taxi from the airport to the bus station, and after embarking on a local bus that would "eventually" get me to Santo Domingo, was the seats that were always taken first (and therefore the 'best' seats) were the seats at the very front. This contrasts with buses in Canada, where people space themselves out throughout the bus as much as possible.
According to my Lonely Planet travel guide, skin color gives an informal hierarchy where the lighter your skin, the more important you must be. That didn't make me think they were metaphorically spitting on their king when I was snubbed by the locals. Rather, I'm pretty sure it altogether had to do with my complete incomprehension of the spanish language, and in particular the extraordinary thickness of their accent. This isn't to say I know not a word, for No habla Espanol is a nearly complete sentence. I can speak some key words, and my comprehension is available, at times when I'm sober and people speak in one word sentences. What I constantly found myself tripping over is when I feel like I've finally got my point across in a series of gorrilla-like grunts and gestures, and I feel like I can stride across that finish line of accomplishment, only to find the shoelaces of accent and talking speed have been tied together (and not in the good way). I'm much happier not trying to speak the language at all, and consider myself a bit of a master of body language these days. The Dominicans sour dispositions toward me only stings for as long as they and I are in the same room together.
The second thing I learned since stepping foot off the resort, which by the way is only full of "rich" white fatties and dispirited Uncle Toms - is that "friend" roughly translates into Dominican as "Whitey who will give me all your money." Not to say that there weren't nice people, because I met plenty. But they just don't seem as motivated as the tieves, hustlers, pimps and junk salesment to pick up the English language. I was consistantly amazed by how few spoke English - it seems that an infinite amount of money (provided you place yourself in frequently Gringo'ed areas) can be made, and one can live a relatively easy life in an otherwise poverty stricken banana republic. As it stands, the realm of English speaking Dominicans remains the realm of of every thug and lowlife eager for free pesos. Take my last night there, for example, in a rapidly expanding town of Bavaro, about a half hour drive from the Punta Cana airport. Punta Cana remains an anomoly in the Dominican weather system, knowing only blue sky and sunshine while the rest of the island chokes on floodwaters, floating islands of garbage, and backed up sewage systems. Why until recently this has not been one of the more densely populated areas is beyond me. But still much of it remains scrubland just waiting to be laid to torch. More recently, however, every inch of its pristine white sands and sexy, picturesque beaches (that seem more real to me on a postcard than to be buried ankle deep into) is quickly being converted into overpriced resorts. I can only assume the vision is of shipping more an more pasty North American and Europeans in, presumably with the end goal of creating some sort of island out of dollar bills that the owners of these resorts can build their own resort out of solid gold and spend their time on. And it seems to be working. Inside the Punta Cana airport, an assortment of gringos form long ribbons of flesh waiting to re-embark back to their country, or pour fourth from the arrivals section in waves, waiting to be whisked away to their relatively expensive home in the tropics for anywhere from 20 to 40 dollars american per trip. I'm of mixed feelings of these resorts; after my experience I'm more than a litte bitter from "No habla Inglais" and a multitude of broken english variants of "give me money", and I can understand someone wanting to simultaneously get away and also not be confronted by these problems on vacation.
But this subsequently feeds back into the Domincan people a sense of elitiesm, that white people are collectively too good to be around them, and spending money in exclusive locations that they will only see if they are a meager employee of these institutions. This happens instead of tourists spending money in the many, many local towns sprinkled throughout the Dominican (and always on the major roads). This perceived elitiesm further frustrates the average Dominican, fuelled by American TV station dreams showing many, many nice things they will never be able to afford - and goes on to make them even more bitter towards the turistas that dare step off the resort property and try to interact with the population, despite the language barriers. Which in turns embitters the visitors, choosing to isolate themselves on resorts moreso in a cycle that continues to continue.
(all my pics can be found at http://s111.photobucket.com/albums/n146/emaika/Dominican_Republic/)
