Got home this morning around 4:45am after a 4-hr delay. CR was lovely, as ever, the resort was beautiful, the weather perfect, and after our scheduled trip in Feb to Dominican, I'm never going anywhere again. This time I mean it. I never want to wait in another airport or shift around in a cramped, upright airplane seat, for hours, ever again. Finito. I'm a homebody and home is where I'm staying.
I'm convinced too, after a couple dozen trips, that the descendants of the British Empire are the only people on earth with good manners; at least, as it applies to resort-goers (the staff is always lovely). The Scandanavians might be ok, don't know them. Americans, who often get a bum rap, are paragons of Emily Postian virtue, compared to the budder-inning, queue-jumping, wheelchair-faking, path-blocking, buffet-busting, shout-talking, seat-kicking, child-screaming, me-firsters we encounter. On the flight home, behind us sat three middle-aged Caucasian women, speaking an eastern-European language and wearing head scarves. So, Bosnian, or somesuch, I guessed. One poked my husband in the back of the head because she didn't want him putting his seat back. Well...she would have been better off poking a bear. The one behind me pushed on my seat and tapped my arm. As it was, I kept the seat up most of the trip just because reclining was no more comfortable. Every time she shifted her bulk, she'd grab my seatback. Suffice it to say, we did not encounter many peoples who would be happy forming an orderly line.
Our hotel room faced a rainforest (picture of trees to follow), so we heard the howlers making their passage twice a day, and could see the branches swaying. The monkeys were sometimes visible. For LeeP's benefit, the woman who owned the villa where the girls & I stayed the last two times has a pet-rescue org. She saves mostly dogs, tries to find homes for them, has neutering clinics every month. Her group is called something with "Ditch Dogs" in it. That's what the strays are called there and they all look pretty much alike. They seem healthy, but the inbred cats have crooked tails. When we visited her this trip, she had acquired a greyhound through some convoluted method. She's got a half-dozen dogs herself.
Nothing else of interest. There was a lot of sitting around the pool, drinking. That's something else I can't take for more than one day. The sitting, I mean. I get bored to death, but there's nothing I really want to do (except go home). Being white as a fish's belly means no sunbathing. I look forward to meals the way a patient in a hospital does. That's pretty bad, but I'm just totally bored on vacation...and tired--Ron snores something awful. He can't take the airport/plane ordeal any longer either, so I won't be a stick-in-the-mud not going away anymore. He'll drve to Florida and all will be well. Don't know what the rest of the gang will do.
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