Cabarete

I’ll bring you the same souvenir box to the beach every day. I’ll bring you papayas, pineapples and coconuts. I’ll keep showing you the pictures of my children until you let me braid your hair. I’ll become your best friend for a minute if you buy a bracelet I told you was made of larimar but is not.  I’ll hate you and swear at you if you manage to buy a necklace from me for cost price but I’ll be your friend tomorrow again cause you might buy another one for more. I’ll tell you only my cigars are real. Others sell shit. I’ll keep calling you my friend and telling you how I go to church in Puerto Plata until you decide to offer some clothes for my children. I’ll be sincerely grateful and call you my real friend but just before we say goodbye I’ll ask if you by any chance don’t have another hundred note in your pocket.

If I’m from a neighbouring village, I’ll tell you that only locals drink, cheat and use the services offered by prostitues. I’ll tell you about Raymond, the crazy guy who organizes fishing trips and never shows up to pick people up. I’ll tell you I’m not the same. I am the only one here who sells silver.

I’ll show you which beach chairs belong to your hotel though it’s the first thing you found out upon your arrival. I won’t make you sit on somebody’s lap when the 39th passenger gets on my twenty-seat guagua cause I expect you to pay twice for the ticket. I’ll call you Miss England regardless of where you come from so you buy my newspaper.  I’ll beg you to come to my shop just to be polite, though I know you won’t get out without a purchase.

If I work at the reception of the hotel, I’ll tell you you can keep your suitcase in the foyer past check-out time in such a manner that you end up believing I’m doing a favour. I’ll tell you about free horseback riding and kitesurfing. I’ll tell you I can’t believe you’ll have to leave my country (if you’ve given me tips). I’ll promise you it will be sunny tomorrow, though the last time I watched a weather forecast was last year.

If I’m a frequent tourist from Germany, I’ll establish a travel company called Freddie Tours and tell you it’s the only local company with insurance. I’ll lie to you that whale watching is on discount cause it’s the last weekend when whales come out. I’ll hire my dodgy-looking Swiss friend who’ll sit in my office and tell every passer by “hey I’m from Switzerland, I went whale watching with them twice and it was really good.” You’ll probably choose my company cause Germans are known for reliability and we’ll have made a great deal.

I’ll hire a guide who only gives names of villages you pass without any further comment. He’ll forget the real name of “Bacardi Island” but will become very talkative when it comes to reminding travellers to leave tips.

I’ll take you to Samana where all whale trips start. I will have booked the smallest boat available without previously letting you know that all electronic equipment should stay in your hotel. I’ll put you in a boat with nine more naive Germans, Americans and Dutchmen, as well as  a man at the wheel who barely speaks any language including his own. You’ll go far into the sea till you forget how the coast looks like. Waves will be huge as hell and you’ll suddenly discover that you do have sea sickness afterall. Salty water will keep splashing all over the place after you have long said goodbye to your camera. When you can’t open your eyes anymore, the man at the wheel will stop and point in the distance where the whale has finally shown two centimetres of his back.

When you’re back in Cabarete, I’ll come with my souvenir box and remind you that you have promised to have a look, though I know to say the magic word later was the only way you could get rid of me. I’ll tell you I know you came here to relax and enjoy the sun but life is not that easy. I’ll give you free cigars and show you around cause I assume you’re richer than me. I’ll wave at you and offer to jump on my motorbike cause I know thanks is not gonna be enough. I’ll fill your water cup up after every single sip of yours in the restaurant cause I know you might appreciate it. I’ll sing songs and teach you merengue; I’ll bring you candy coconuts cause you’re a bloody tourist and that’s all I need you to be.