One good thing about aging is that people expect less from you physically. Whereas it might be frowned upon as a child if you refuse to stand on a chair, it shows a kind of wisdom when you’re over 50.
Thse days if anyone sees me holding onto Grumpy for dear life when we walk down a flight of outdoor steps without a banister, they understand I’m just a doddery old woman. Let’s keep it between you and me that I was much the same in my 20s.
For that reason, when we go on a cruise, I deliberately pick the excursions that require little physical activity. Regular readers might recall my misadventures on a truck in Mexico last year. No climbing into vehicles using a ladder for me, thank you very much.
As a journalist I take pride in my research, so before a recent trip to Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic, I not only weighed up what to do but exactly what kind of transportation was involved. Finally, I settled on the perfect thing. A cultural trip that included seeing how cigars are made, a visit to a family home and a cooking class.
As an increasingly fussy eater, or so says my husband, who would eat a rusty nail and an old sock were they presented on a pretty plate, I was especially happy to try my hand at mofongo. It’s one of the national dishes of Puerto Rico, made by mashing plantains with a wooden mortar and pestle. Delicious.
As we approached the excursion departure point from our ship, I temporarily froze even though it was 80 degrees. Among the line of buses were two of the mega trucks we’d used the previous year. Down came the ladder but as luck would have it, our party was ushered into a small minibus. To be fair it was a little cramped, but not horrible. The seats were sprung and padded — a luxury vehicle compared to the alternative.
The only downside was the rain, but you can’t do anything about the weather, right? I bought a cruise line poncho and tightened the hood around the brave face I had just put on. The stops were so interesting that we hardly noticed the wind and rain picking up. By the time we got to the mofongo class on the beach, I was so busy pummeling my plantains that I hardly noticed an announcement.
“Unfortunately, the rain has caused the river to break its banks. But don’t worry, we’ve alerted your ship and it will wait for you. You won’t be able to drive back in your bus, but we will provide other transport.”
Other transport? If the banks were broken, couldn’t our ship just sail up to meet us?
“This is turning out to be quite an adventure,” one of my fellow passengers said excitedly.
“But I didn’t sign up for an adventure,” I replied. “In fact, I ticked the box that said, ‘No adventures.’”
After a long wait in the gift shop, our transportation finally arrived. You’ve guessed it — a huge truck with a ladder sprouting from the rear.
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” Grumpy said. “You go first and I’ll be right behind you. Just sit in the first seat at the back.”
As instructed, I inched my way up and dove into the rear seat. Grumpy snuggled in next to me. I swear, the rest of the party loaded in the same amount of time it had taken me to board. One of the passengers was so relaxed she was carrying a pineapple. I suspected she hadn’t stopped at a local fruit market when I noticed the little umbrella peeking out of the top.
And then we were off. The first few seconds were a little bumpy but the lady with the pineapple hung on to it like a trooper until a passing branch whacked her in the face and caused her to drop her prize. As the driver picked up speed, we held on for dear life. Whoosh, there went my cap. It was like a roller coaster where someone forgot to secure the safety restraints. Not that I’ve never actually been on a roller coaster, but I’ve watched videos of them from behind my fingers.
Grumpy nobly put his arm around me to stop me from bumping against the railing. Would it have killed them to install actual windows? But when he started to uncontrollably bounce up and down off his seat, he let go and opted to protect his back. A few yards on we felt like pebbles in a tumble dryer, and we hadn’t even navigated the river yet.
Seeing — and hearing — our fears, our guide Johanna apologized profusely, explaining that the rear seats were the bumpiest on the truck. We stuck it out because there was no way we were changing seats while we were moving.
Finally, we finally slowed down and came to a halt.
“This isn’t the cruise port,” I announced, wondering what was next. A donkey?
“No, we are moving to another truck. It’ll be much more comfortable for you,” Johanna said.
Comfortable, maybe, but it still meant negotiating my way down one ladder and up another onto the next truck. That lady may have lost her pineapple but I was losing my mind.
I know I’m a wimp because we drove past zip liners screaming in delight and ATV riders caked in mud, having the time of their lives.
But for me, I’d experienced more than enough adventure from accidentally putting too much pepper in my mofongo than to ask for more.
Hilary Decent is a freelance journalist who moved to Naperville from England in 2007. She can be reached at hilarydecent@gmail.com.
