Well... I'll do my best to answer all the questions I've received in your emails, which have been wonderful, as well as your comments. Besides, it's only about 167 emails. :) Shouldn't be to bad, right?

Having been ready and out the door since 7:30 AM, we arrived at Punta Cana at about 3 PM, which was not bad traveling at all. The flights were timely and smooth. We had a taxi waiting for us, so getting to the hotel was just a matter of minutes, just a breeze. But herein lies a paradox: time stood still for me. I thought I wouldn't get to the hotel soon enough.

Honestly, I was not emotionally prepared for witnessing the living conditions so many of those people endure on a daily basis. It was heartbreaking. My husband was not exagerating when he said to me years ago "they practically live in cardboard houses". That 20 minute drive was the longest of my life. My mind turned immediately away from our trip and onto the 5 bags of clothes and shoes I had filled in May, thinking of who would benefit the most of them, wanting to donate to a reputable charity. The answer to that was as clear as the tropical sun beaming down on us, warming us well past our comfort zone, even inside the air conditioned taxi.

As we passed the gates of the Majestic Colonial Hotel, the contrast of the 'outside world' and the one unfolding before me within the hotel premises was disparaging. I was immediately overcome with pangs of sorrow and of guilt. Only my husband noticed my hesitation, and after being together all these years, he didn't need to ask what was bothering me, just one look into my eyes and he already knew. Aren't we the lucky ones?

We had been looking forward to this vacation for months, and I meant to make the most of it, and have the grandest time with my kids and husband, so on we went. Immediately after checking in, my kids cried, "I want to go to the pool!", and we did what most everyone does when arriving: inspect the room, walk around the premises and find our way to the pool. I must share that my favorite part of our accomodation was the ocean front balcony. It was spacious! We had an outdoor jacuzzi that fit all four of us (the indoor jacuzzi wasn't as big).

I spent almost every vacation night outside. How could I resist? The view was simply amazing, and spending the nights outside, listening to the wind breeze along the palm trees and the waves breaking onto the shore was absolutely wonderful. Only once did it rain during the evening, and I let it soak me through. I hadn't enjoyed a good downpour like that since I was in 7th grade. My spirit needed it.

Well, once we found the pool, that became the place where we spent the most of our vacation time. We would swim, have drinks by the pool bar, bathe in the sun, and swim some more. I spent more time in that pool than in our home pool, even with the 3 years we've lived here. The kids loved it, and I can honestly say that was the best part of our vacation. Kiki began journaling on the hotel note pads, and I shot a picture of her first observations:

I believe it was this same evening that we met a most wonderful family (our vacation neighbors) with which we shared interesting conversation, evening meals, and the longest walk on the beach I've ever taken. Their son and my kids took wonderfully together. Guess where thy live? In Canada! I keep telling myself, I continue making this many friends in Canada, I should be thinking of relocating there pretty soon.

By noon on our second day, my husband and I were sick to our stomachs. All I can say is it was a blessing that it we were sick, and not our kids. It was terrible. Out of all the medication I carried along with me, thinking of every possible thing that might go wrong, from colds to allergic reactions to sea-sickness to asthma, guess what I forgot? That's right - no Pepto or Mylanta, no Activated Charcoal or Chlorophyl, no Imodium. We were sick throughout our entire vacation. There is no amount of drinking that can cure an upset stomach. Believe me. I tried.

Day three my husband went kayaking with our son, while I stayed at the pool with our daughter. Like I said, most of our days were spent in the pool. We stopped by the spa, where I scheduled a full day of treatment for the following Saturday, before our return home: Shiatsu, facial, manicure & pedicure, aromatherapy massage, hair coloring and styling. I was to stop in during our fourth day to do the hair coloring. I did. Since then, a 'bad hair day' has a whole new meaning for me. They burned my hair. Ruined. I had clumps of hair breaking of with the slightest touch. You don't have to try to hard to guess that I cancelled everything else I had scheduled with them, for fear they might actually break my bones during Shiatsu. I've been wearing my hair up since then, and I still have to figure out what to do with it.

Our fifth day we went for a walk on the beach with our new friends, and I swear I think we walked for two hours. We arrived at some local shops right there on the beach, and we perused around the arts and crafts. This was the day my camera was ruined. Yes, my beautiful camera died. As I helped my daughter up from being crashed into by a wave, another wave decided it woud be fun to give us a full soak, camera included. After that, I couldn't get the sand out of my pants for the life of me, and on our way back from our walk we called for a taxi due to the severe chafing my thighs were suffering. We waited nearly an hour for our taxi. Our friends decided to continue on foot; and they arrived before we did.

This was going to be the last evening we spent together, so we met for yet another lobster dinner. More wonderful conversation, even thought the music was too loud, and the kids were having a great time. The following day our friends would continue with their trip, and we had to wake up for our Deep Sea Fishing Expedition.

Day six: Deep Sea Fishing Expedition. Upon arrival our guide informs us that fishing is great, they are catching White Marlin, about 5 each day, and that waves are about 4 feet high. He also tells us that if we wish to cancel or reschedule our trip, we should do it at that moment. Along with us were two firemen from Arizona. We all agreed that 4 feet isn't bad seas, and my husband has deep sea fishing experience, so onward we would go. One hour and fifteen minutes later (out of our 4 hour fishing trip), we were on our way back to shore. The tour guide must have meant something else, because the waves were more like 20 feet. The swells would practically swallow the ship whole, looked like meanacing walls just waiting to crash down on us. I felt so sorry for Pi, having now a realistic picture of what it must have been like for him all those months lost at sea. We all got sea-sick. We didn't fish a damn thing.

We were not really aware, but by day seven we were already starting our countdown to return home. At least my husband and I were. For the most part, we did our best to indulge the kids in whatever they wanted, and hoped that they were truly having fun, and wouldn't begin counting down the days themselves. We played ping-pong, we swam, rented a couple of speed-boats (and actually enjoyed it even though mine was dead in the water within 3 minutes, and after exchanging boats with the tour guide, we still ended waiting about 20 mintues when the same boat died on him), we continued to enjoy evening shows, stayed up late, spent the night outside in the balcony reading, listening to music, knitting, counting stars.

On Saturday, my husband and I decided not to eat anything but a couple of croissants, that way we would be sure to avoid any predicaments during travel. Instead of spending the morning by the pool, I decided I would head out to town to purchase some crafts, beer, and rum. I would have to go alone. I hated the idea of doing this, of facing what lay beyond the hotel premises, of facing the thoughts and emotions that would inevitably arise in me, but by then the whole thing had grown on me, and the reality of it had already sunk in. Besides, I had done enough window shopping, and I knew exaclty what I wanted and the right price to purchase it for. Even so, upon arriving at the airport, the agents seized a couple of my packages composed of dry leaves and bark for preparing rum, because it was illegal to export these items. How I wished that the agent who told me it was OK to purchase these and fly them back home raw and unprepared, would somehow happen by and bump into me and this agent giving me a lecture. How I would have loved to give him a piece of my mind.

Oh, there's more to tell, it's just that it almost painful to write it down. I'm sure some of it will seep out into my daily writings now and then, for the next little while. Perhaps with more distance, I'll be able to recall the more pleasureable moments.

In all honesty, I have mixed feelings regarding this entire trip. This trip was unforgettable, just not the way I thought it would be.

Now do you understand now why I was counting my blessings upon arriving home?