Apparently, SUVs can be used for more than carting kids around or looking trendy.
After crossing The Ganges, we drove for about 40 minutes on some very bumpy dirt-road switchbacks. I was captivated by the lively characters I saw--children (half-naked) who could draw you in with just one stare, old women in flowered dresses (half-open) trekking up the hill like they had done a thousand times before-- who made their home in this secluded little area of the world. I also couldn't help wonder who had previously checked our tires, engine, and oil. I don't think the concept of road-side assistance has made it to Jacmel's back-country. Where the road ended, we got out and were greeted by dozens of boys and young men who worked as "tour guides." Now I'll admit, I was a little amused by this. Very creative, but who needs a "guide" to walk down to a little waterfall? But since they insisted on coming anyways, I couldn't protest.
I imagined I was a character from some adventure movie, deep in the jungles of a mysterious land, placing my trust in the natives for my very survival.
Little did I know, that is exactly how I would feel a little further down the road.
We hiked down the trail a little ways until we came to our first river crossing.
Not so bad really. I was glad to have our guides with us to offer a steady hand as we climbed over the slippery rocks. These boys, equipped with hardly any foot gear at all, seemed more like creatures in their native habitat, virtual mountain goats---able to balance, maneuver, and climb with blatant ease.
It amazed me how the water could stay such a piercing shade or blue, while simultaneously being shared by a few other guests.
Including the local washers.
A few more minutes down the trail, that same piercing blue water would become an even more intense shade of blue-- a color like I have never before seen in nature.
It was then on to another river crossing--this time one could not easily avoid getting their feet wet.
I had to have two guides help me, each one taking a hand, as I tried to balance on the slippery rocks and not go sliding down the river. Then, after climbing up some steep steps, we encountered a little traffic jam of sorts. Balancing on this narrow ledge above the basin, I saw Melanie, Sany, and the kids turn around. Apparently, the activity was no longer "kid-friendly."
I carefully made my my way across the ledge to see what all the talk was about. I finally got to the front of the line where I observed a drop off, an all-to-eager-to-take-me-by-the-hand tour guide, and a dangling rope which people were using to scale down the rocks and subsequently cross another set of rapids to reach the promised waterfall.
I had come this far, but was honestly not prepared to do the next part. For starters, you had to go barefoot in order to maneuver on the wet rocks. I had my nice, new running shoes and socks on. Second, my black shoulder bag, with all my important loot inside (including more money than I care to acknowledge, camera, ipod, etc.), would not survive the trek or allow me to balance like I needed to. Third, this activity required that you get wet. Very wet. I had no swimming suit--just my regular clothes.
I imagined I was a character from some adventure movie, deep in the jungles of a mysterious land, placing my trust in the natives for my very survival.
Little did I know, that is exactly how I would feel a little further down the road.
We hiked down the trail a little ways until we came to our first river crossing.
Not so bad really. I was glad to have our guides with us to offer a steady hand as we climbed over the slippery rocks. These boys, equipped with hardly any foot gear at all, seemed more like creatures in their native habitat, virtual mountain goats---able to balance, maneuver, and climb with blatant ease.
It amazed me how the water could stay such a piercing shade or blue, while simultaneously being shared by a few other guests.
Including the local washers.
A few more minutes down the trail, that same piercing blue water would become an even more intense shade of blue-- a color like I have never before seen in nature.
It was then on to another river crossing--this time one could not easily avoid getting their feet wet.I had to have two guides help me, each one taking a hand, as I tried to balance on the slippery rocks and not go sliding down the river. Then, after climbing up some steep steps, we encountered a little traffic jam of sorts. Balancing on this narrow ledge above the basin, I saw Melanie, Sany, and the kids turn around. Apparently, the activity was no longer "kid-friendly."
I carefully made my my way across the ledge to see what all the talk was about. I finally got to the front of the line where I observed a drop off, an all-to-eager-to-take-me-by-the-hand tour guide, and a dangling rope which people were using to scale down the rocks and subsequently cross another set of rapids to reach the promised waterfall.
I had come this far, but was honestly not prepared to do the next part. For starters, you had to go barefoot in order to maneuver on the wet rocks. I had my nice, new running shoes and socks on. Second, my black shoulder bag, with all my important loot inside (including more money than I care to acknowledge, camera, ipod, etc.), would not survive the trek or allow me to balance like I needed to. Third, this activity required that you get wet. Very wet. I had no swimming suit--just my regular clothes. My biggest dilemma: If I did ditch the shoes and bag, I couldn't be guaranteed that I would get them back--in tact and untouched by the numerous native-boy-tour guides. So what would you do??
Well, I decided to play it safe. I carefully balanced myself on the side of a rock and allowed just enough room for the remaining line-up of adventuresome people to scale down the rocks. I was stuck there on the one-way ledge for a good 20 minutes watching the action.
Until I couldn't take it anymore. To heck with practicality or safety. I took my shoes and socks off, reluctantly handed my bag over to the guide, and scooted down the rock (once again, two guides helping me balance-- they were actually really good).
I felt like an animal--toes curled, fingers wrapped around tiny cracks and crevices, and body pressed up against slick natural surfaces. The ripe smell of young, sweaty boys penetrated the air, adding a strangely "authentic" touch to the experience.
After rounding the bend, I heard the rushing of the falls and the playful cries of people splashing in the water. But I couldn't see the action until my guides helped me climb and perch upon a little overhang on the rock. And Voila. A sight to behold! (That's "The Jacmelien" below--comfortable in his native habitat, becoming "one" with the waterfall--arms wide open).
The most gorgeous, natural beauty. All I wanted to do was jump in and join all the native pleasure-seekers who who seemed so care-free, diving from rock to rock.
I stood frozen (clutching my black shoulder bag that I hastily retrieved from the guide), snapped these shots, and tried to not slip and fall down the side of the ledge. Too tired to balance anymore, I asked for help down. I stood and watched more people playing, wishing I could join them. Finally, "The Jacmelien" swam over, and asked me why I wasn't. I explained I had no swimming suit, no change of clothes, and a bag with lots of valuables that I didn't want out of my sight. He essentially told me that wet clothes dry out and your bag will be fine. (Hey, if your foot's in the water, you might as well swim right?)
Well, I decided to play it safe. I carefully balanced myself on the side of a rock and allowed just enough room for the remaining line-up of adventuresome people to scale down the rocks. I was stuck there on the one-way ledge for a good 20 minutes watching the action.
Until I couldn't take it anymore. To heck with practicality or safety. I took my shoes and socks off, reluctantly handed my bag over to the guide, and scooted down the rock (once again, two guides helping me balance-- they were actually really good).
I felt like an animal--toes curled, fingers wrapped around tiny cracks and crevices, and body pressed up against slick natural surfaces. The ripe smell of young, sweaty boys penetrated the air, adding a strangely "authentic" touch to the experience.
After rounding the bend, I heard the rushing of the falls and the playful cries of people splashing in the water. But I couldn't see the action until my guides helped me climb and perch upon a little overhang on the rock. And Voila. A sight to behold! (That's "The Jacmelien" below--comfortable in his native habitat, becoming "one" with the waterfall--arms wide open).
The most gorgeous, natural beauty. All I wanted to do was jump in and join all the native pleasure-seekers who who seemed so care-free, diving from rock to rock.
I stood frozen (clutching my black shoulder bag that I hastily retrieved from the guide), snapped these shots, and tried to not slip and fall down the side of the ledge. Too tired to balance anymore, I asked for help down. I stood and watched more people playing, wishing I could join them. Finally, "The Jacmelien" swam over, and asked me why I wasn't. I explained I had no swimming suit, no change of clothes, and a bag with lots of valuables that I didn't want out of my sight. He essentially told me that wet clothes dry out and your bag will be fine. (Hey, if your foot's in the water, you might as well swim right?)At that, I handed over the reigns, and jumped in fully clothed. The water was cool and refreshing. I can't remember the last time I felt so uninhibited. (Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time I went swimming). "The Jacmelien" guided me over the waterfall where I enjoyed crawling in and out of the small under-water caves, getting massaged by the pressure of the fall's spray, and cannon-balling off the rocks like an idiot.
I had no shame. I saw the amused stares of the native crowd as I plummeted from the rocks, wet clothes plastered to my body--and stared back at them, equally amused. I didn't want to leave, but knew it was time. I was a little concerned at how I was going to get out of there--after all, scaling down the rocks is something very different than climbing back up them.
That's when the natives suggested I scoot down the mini-falls and swim across the blue basin, to make it back to home base.
So that's what I did. And here I am emerging from the water.
And trying to dry myself out on the rocks. Behind me, a local group of young men/boys (probably out-of-school youth--the kind our project targets!!) were thoroughly enjoying wasting the day away--drinking booze and playing cards without a care in the world.
I had no shame. I saw the amused stares of the native crowd as I plummeted from the rocks, wet clothes plastered to my body--and stared back at them, equally amused. I didn't want to leave, but knew it was time. I was a little concerned at how I was going to get out of there--after all, scaling down the rocks is something very different than climbing back up them.That's when the natives suggested I scoot down the mini-falls and swim across the blue basin, to make it back to home base.
So that's what I did. And here I am emerging from the water.
And trying to dry myself out on the rocks. Behind me, a local group of young men/boys (probably out-of-school youth--the kind our project targets!!) were thoroughly enjoying wasting the day away--drinking booze and playing cards without a care in the world.
They quickly nick-named me "BLAN" (all in good humor, I hope). "Blan" is Creole for "white."
Yep. Most definitely "Blan." (That's Ketty beside me)
Yep. Most definitely "Blan." (That's Ketty beside me)Oh, and in case you're wondering, the bag, shoes, and socks all came back---fully in tact (by some miracle). We hiked back up to our car, paid our "tour-guides" (I was no longer laughing at them--I was profusely thanking them), and headed back into Jacmel. After a wet, tiring morning, there was no better place to go to dry off than The Beach.
We went back to our same destination and ordered food from the same hut (with the slow service). Today, the food came out in under an hour. Record-breaking.
On the "menu du jour," my new favorite sea-food delicacy-- "le lambi." I keep trying to figure out what this translates to in English. It is almost squid-like in nature with its rubbery texture, but much tastier. All I can tell you is that it comes from sea shells like the one shown below. Anyone got a translation?
The afternoon slipped away as I sat out in the ocean and let salty waves crash down on top of me, tossing me whichever way they wished. I felt like I was playing in a big, warm, bathtub.
No one wanted to prematurely leave this little oasis and head back to the uninviting Jacleff Plaza. So we decided to stay until the sun had completely vanished and until we had nowhere else to go. The warm winds picked up, adding to the surreal atmosphere in the air.
I took off for a walk down the shore, letting the tide have at me--completely welcoming every time it encompassed my legs. After all, if there's one thing I learned today, it's that it is okay to get wet. It's okay to jump in the water and let it consume you once in a while. It's okay to leave your valuables (and your inhibitions) behind. Going half-way just doesn't cut it sometimes! 
I watched as the sky quickly turned into shades of pink and purple. I also found the perfect hut. Combining all the essential elements into one--thatched roof, obnoxiously bright color, low-maintenance yard, right on the water, and complete with hammocks (I laughed out loud as I saw a couple eat it hard-- their hammock breaking loose from the tree).
The sun slipped away quicker than I wanted it to. Around every bend, I hoped the light would remain at a stand-still so I could soak it all up a little longer.
But alas, every good thing must eventually come to and end.
If there ever was a little bit of paradise on earth, I think I found it. In all its rugged, rural, and native authenticity....this place seeped its way in and completely captured me. Around every bend that I walked and with every new color I caught refelcted in the water, things just seemed a little clearer and a lot less complicated.
We went back to our same destination and ordered food from the same hut (with the slow service). Today, the food came out in under an hour. Record-breaking.
On the "menu du jour," my new favorite sea-food delicacy-- "le lambi." I keep trying to figure out what this translates to in English. It is almost squid-like in nature with its rubbery texture, but much tastier. All I can tell you is that it comes from sea shells like the one shown below. Anyone got a translation?
The afternoon slipped away as I sat out in the ocean and let salty waves crash down on top of me, tossing me whichever way they wished. I felt like I was playing in a big, warm, bathtub.
No one wanted to prematurely leave this little oasis and head back to the uninviting Jacleff Plaza. So we decided to stay until the sun had completely vanished and until we had nowhere else to go. The warm winds picked up, adding to the surreal atmosphere in the air.
I took off for a walk down the shore, letting the tide have at me--completely welcoming every time it encompassed my legs. After all, if there's one thing I learned today, it's that it is okay to get wet. It's okay to jump in the water and let it consume you once in a while. It's okay to leave your valuables (and your inhibitions) behind. Going half-way just doesn't cut it sometimes! 
I watched as the sky quickly turned into shades of pink and purple. I also found the perfect hut. Combining all the essential elements into one--thatched roof, obnoxiously bright color, low-maintenance yard, right on the water, and complete with hammocks (I laughed out loud as I saw a couple eat it hard-- their hammock breaking loose from the tree).
The sun slipped away quicker than I wanted it to. Around every bend, I hoped the light would remain at a stand-still so I could soak it all up a little longer.
But alas, every good thing must eventually come to and end.
If there ever was a little bit of paradise on earth, I think I found it. In all its rugged, rural, and native authenticity....this place seeped its way in and completely captured me. Around every bend that I walked and with every new color I caught refelcted in the water, things just seemed a little clearer and a lot less complicated.
2 comments:
You are one brave soul. Just seeing all those men and boys, half clad in the water freaked the heck out of me. I'm thinking, you may never come out of there alive, let alone with your virtue in tact (is there a better way to say it?) I mean, that secluded from the rest of the world and you could have just disappeared. Like I said, you are one brave soul. :)
What a poetic post! You made me feel like I was there! What a day!
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