Lazy morning today. Though I didn’t go into it in yesterday’s post, the latter three quarters of my traveling were as unpleasant as they always seem to be for me. On the Atlanta-to-Punta Cana leg of my flight, I found myself in the middle of…oh, let’s be kind…a rough-and-tumble family from North Dakota—twenty or twenty-five people heading to Punta Cana for a wedding. Many were too loud, too drunk, and too heavy for comfort. When the woman in the seat next to you for three hours is spilling over from her seat into yours, effectively wedging you up against the fuselage of the plane, you can be you’ll bet creaky and cranky when you finally disembark. And so I was. Having the class-clown—or rather, the family clown—sitting directly in front of you and cracking jokes for all his relatives five or six rows in front of and behind him didn’t help.
When I finally arrived at the resort and completed the “leisurely” check-in process, I took the tram to my room, only it never got to my room. I don’t know if the driver was unable to hear me say “Building 1” or was unable to understand “One. Uno.” Whatever the case, after circling the property—and it’s a big property—we ended up back at the lobby. I decided it looked like a pleasant evening for a walk. And so I did, arriving at my room three hours after we landed.
That’s really all just to say that I was tired last night, so I slept in this morning. I did, however, have a pretty great day after I finally made myself get out of bed. The beds, by the way, appear to be magical. They feel like fairly comfortable but otherwise ordinary beds, but when I got up, I was feeling absolutely no back pain. (I pulled my lower back last Saturday putting Christmas decorations in the attic. I’ve learned to appreciate the smell of Ben-Gay and the Icy Hot Patch.) The back pain is back but lessened. Still, no zip lines for me this trip.
I thought about ordering breakfast in, but then I thought, “You know, you’re only here for two and a half days. You should go out and stroll around a bit. Get breakfast out.” And so I went. As seems to be common in tropical locales like this, it was drizzly in the morning, so after a false start, I retrieved my umbrella and headed for breakfast. I ate at a buffet restaurant that looks out over the beach. Small pancakes. Bacon AND sausage. Pastries. Darjeeling tea. Sigh. Lovely.
By the time I was done with breakfast, the rain had stopped and the sky was clearing, so I decided to go for a walk on the beach. Many of my friends who live near beaches will confirm that this is one of my favorite things to do, especially at night, and especially when the breeze is blowing. I walked for about 40 minutes, got passed by a tour group on horseback along the way (waited while the tide wash the road apples out to sea), and just enjoyed looking at my footprints in the sand.
I met up with Gary a little after 11. We wandered a bit, then had some lunch. (I got a salad in today even though it’s “I can eat whatever I want” Thursday; I’m proud of that.) He had a few things he wanted to do, so we separated for a bit. I changed into my swimsuit and staked out a big, hammocky thing at a nearby pool so I could continue reading Animal Farm. (The resort has lots of pools; I picked the adults-only pool because it’s calmer and quieter. Mostly.) Call me crazy, but I love reading Orwell on vacation. He’s intellectual enough to activate my mind in an otherwise lazy setting, but he’s not so challenging that I have to work at what he’s saying. I’m running out of his novels, though, and am going to have to start reading his essays.
Gary joined me shortly after I arrived, and we ended up having a really nice conversation about the movie, The Life of Pi, books, and just stuff. I can’t remember most of it, but it was thoughtful and thought-provoking (though apparently not memorable!) and just pleasant. We returned to the room, whereupon, Gary took a nap and I worked on finishing my book. Gary does like to talk, so of course, there was lots of talking filling in the gaps of all these activities as well as after he woke up.
He had been talking since before we arrived about going to a Brazilian steak house that was located here, and we’d fixed tonight as the night to do that, so after he got cleaned up and I got changed, we headed over to what was actually a pretty good meal. If you’re not familiar with Brazilian steakhouses, the concept is that fellows walk around the restaurant with different kinds of meat on sabers. They stop at your table and offer you beef, chicken, pork, lamb, sausage, chicken hearts (apparently; we didn’t see those). If you want the meat they’re offering, the slice you off a portion as large or small as you want. This circus continues until you’ve had all the meat you can stomach. Different steakhouses embellish the process in different ways, but at this steakhouse, Ipanema, the waiter brings rice, French fries, red beans, vegetables, and a couple sauces to your table while you are free to visit the salad bar, which includes breads, shrimp, cheeses, and other appetizers along with desserts (and, if its not obvious, different salads). I had beef and pork. And so did Gary, though he also had lamb and sausage. We didn’t know that chicken was available until we were full.
At the end of the meal, we were treated (?) to a flaming dessert. It was a lot of show, and if you like that kind of thing, it was probably fairly tasty. The waiter first brought us chunks of pineapple on a plate. He returned with two porcelain gravy boats, one of which was filled with flaming Sambuco. All for show (and it really was pretty to see), he poured the flaming Sambuco in a ribbon of blue and orange flame back and forth from gravy boat to gravy boat. After a few passes, he poured it onto the pineapple. Eventually, of course, the Sambuco burned away, and we could eat the pineapple. I hear you out there. Yes, I did try it. I didn’t like it, but I tried it. Licorice and pineapple aren’t a great pairing in my palate.
You might think you get the joke in my title, but there’s more to it than the pineapple flambé that we had for dessert. Gary, like nature, abhors a vacuum, and though I’m an excellent listener, I’m not usually a talker. Gary was getting a little frustrated, though, that he was always doing the talking (even though he said he was happy to sit in silence and just enjoy the company, he really couldn’t bear silence at all) while I listened and nodded, so I felt like it was time that I step up and start a conversation for once. And so I brought up religion and faith and spirituality, which are often on my mind, though I rarely discuss them. I won’t go into the whole conversation—that’s too much for a blog post. The important thing, and the coincidence that inspired tonight’s title, is that, according to Gary, the kinds of spiritual questions with which I have been wrestling are brilliantly summarized—and in some ways addressed, I think, though not resolved—in The Life of Pi. For the second time today, that movie came up, and it seems like a portent or a sign that perhaps I may find some answers there—or at least new ways to approach my questions (which, really are the same spiritual and existential questions that everyone asks). He loved the movie and has declared it among the best five movies he’s ever seen, and now Gary is now desperate that I see the and tell him what I think. And so I will. Though I expect I’ll witness lost of flame and lovely show but ultimately will be left with only pineapple and licorice.