The road not taken

Au revoir, Club Med and all you rude servers in the kitchen. (except for you.  You know who you are.  You cleaned up the vial of vanilla syrup and made me an addict.  One more meal , tonight’s grand buffet, and then I head for rehab)

It was the perfect little getaway overall, but there was room for improvement on the resort’s part. Like..bathroom doors that actually lock?  And front doors that don’t lock you out?  And maybe schedule a nightly show for those of us only here a few nights?  Add some activities that can be enjoyed by the athletically challenged?  Install a hot tub?

These are the improvements Club Med could make, but other elements were out of its hands.  We deliberately chose to go away in the dreary month of March, and even ‘though we’re not suffering from any consequences of a nor’ easter, this was not the Caribbean we’ve grown to love.  It’s a gorgeous beach—when you squint your eyes, (or in my case, remove my glasses) you get a perfect stripe of ivory sand, then  turquoise water, then  white puffy clouds, and  finally an azure stripe on top.  Lovely to see, but a little too rough to enjoy. I’ve always read that April is the cruelest month, but  its big brother March apparently taught it some of the meaner tricks—like drawing us to the tropics where the weather isn’t  quite tropical.

And yet…

We met incredibly fun people, mostly Americans.  Ran into adorable Katie today and got some Woodloch on. I promised to buy her a drink if she joins us this summer, which may be tough since I never got her last name.

And Jim did get to snorkel at least one good day.  And I did enjoy the waves on three occasions,

And for the last time in 2018, I got ribbed in water aerobics, literally and figuratively.  Brown Sugar had us gripping the wall while facing the one on the opposite side of the pool, instructing us over and over again to push!  Push! Push! Problem is, he didn’t offer an epidural when it was over.

And my snarky little husband can be just as cruel as the weather gods and the sexy  aquatic athletes.  He gets his bearings within five minutes of every destination, I need a month.  We reach a fork in the road today en route to breakfast when he suddenly stops, just smirking and giggling.  He asks:  “would you know how to go if I didn’t lead the way?”  I answer:  “Could I do ANYTHING without you leading the way?”  Don’t pity him..he gets a good brisket every now and then, and a fun conversationalist even more often, so it’s a wash.

Thanks again for reading.  I promise to never make this a blag(portmanteau of blog and brag) and if I do, I give you permission to kick this habit. Thanks to my cousin who commented on my writing style, saying stream of consciousness is acceptable, but there must be paragraph breaks.  He’s right, of course, nobody needs a trip to the ophthalmologist (HA!  Spelled it without Spell check!) or a drink with this format.  The drink part, maybe, but your eyes should no longer be strained.

In summation, and it’s the best way to end every travel blog…

..Next stop:  Woodloch!