Country #120: The most nature-y of nature islands

It all started with a billboard. I was going about my day when I saw a giant ad promising direct flights from Miami to Dominica. Although I don't recall the details, I'm sure there was an obligatory picture of a tanned couple splashing around in impossibly blue waters. I, on the other hand, was busy googling "Is Dominica a country?" Turns out it is and has been since 1978 (although they maintain the Brits' annoying habit of driving on the opposite side of the road.) Seeing as I had not added a new country to my count in a while, this was enough to pique my interest.

Once I discovered that a mere 25,000 American miles was all that stood between me and my 120th country, flights were booked and the planning began in earnest. I would go in January/ February to maximize my chances of seeing sperms whales (spoiler alert: no whales, sperm or otherwise, were seen) and I would stay in Roseau, the capital city on the southern end of the island. 

My research led me to two unassailable truths. First, Dominica is widely known as the Nature Island. It is aggressively lush and has somehow been able to stave off the rampant over-development that has engulfed many of its neighbors. Second- and if I convey nothing else, I want it to be this- it is not the Dominican Republic. DR is an altogether separate country located in Hispaniola. Dominica is an island nation located in the eastern Caribbean, somewhere between Martinique and Guadalupe. Two separate places. This should be obvious but the number of times I tried to look up things to do in Dominica only to get ads for resorts in Puntacana was troubling. More so, when I told people I was going to Dominica and they would begin waxing rhapsodic about mangu. 

Arriving into Douglas-Charles airport, in the northeast part of the island, removes any doubt as to whether the Nature Isle moniker is well-deserved. First, there is this crazy approach where you come in over the water, while looking at towering hill immediately to your left. 

Then there is the drive from the airport to Roseau, which cuts through the stunning center of the island. They should seriously market it as its own attraction. Call it a scenic parkway or give it a catchy marketing slogan, that way at least you could justify the $80 cab ride into town. Everything comes with a catch.  Dominica is blessedly free of mass tourism (with the exception of the almost daily invading cruise ships) but the result is that there is little to none non-cruise ship tourism infrastructure. Public transportation from the airport involves a long walk and an optimistic belief that a bus will actually come. Rideshare apps are non-existent. The only options are either to rent a car (and be tormented by left hand driving rules) or take an overpriced taxi. I stumbled upon option C by catching a ride with some locals who agreed to take me for $40.

They dropped me off at the Roseau Hostel and Beachfront Property, which further cemented Dominica's ability to deliver on its promises. It was indeed a hostel and it was on the beach. Both elements came in handy at the end of the day, as there were nightly gatherings to watch the sunset and catch up on each others' days.

My plan had been to do multiple dives but I was thwarted by a traveling dive club. A group of American divers had booked the only dive center in Roseau for the entirety of my stay. On day one, I lucked out when one of them missed their flight and I was able to jump on the boat. They were a nice enough bunch but there was one woman who I'm certain was introduced to diving by her beleaguered spouse in the hopes that she would at least shut the fuck up while underwater. 

It's a shame because the diving was pretty great, with healthy reefs and cool stuff like seahorses and frogfish. 

Lucky for me, the land portion of Dominica was pretty fantastic as well. A short walk from the hostel was the Botanical Garden, home of Smushy the Bus. I don't know if that is its actual name but ever since Hurricane David shoved a Baobab atop it, I think it's fitting enough.

In addition to Smushy, the Garden has Jack's Walk, a 20 minute hike to an overlook that stands over the entire city of Roseau.

A little closer to home, next to a soccer field, was this play on Sesame Street. As I approached, a young guy watching the game said "Welcome to Cesseme Street, would you like to buy some ganga, weed, marijuana?" It is this level of commitment to clear communication- note all the ways he referred to the same product- that would surely make PBS proud.

The Presidential Palace

On day two, unable to dive and not willing to pay the exorbitant taxi fees, I was a bit stuck for things to do. I wandered down to the tourism office, which of course is right across from the cruise ship port. There I found a battalion of mini-vans haggling for anyone stepping foot off of the ship. After a bit of haggling, I found myself with two British couples on one of the better tours being offered. 

Ours was one of the few that went to Titou Gorge. Like most attractions on Dominica, this involves a waterfall. What's special about it is how you get to said falls. In the case of Titou Gorge, you have to swim through the titular gorge and then scamper over some rocks before reaching the falls. Sounds easy enough but the yelps of those who went before me, upon touching the cold water gave me some serious pause. I am a Cuban Miamian. It is in my constitution to hate cold water. I expressed this concern to one of the guides on site. His solution: 'no problem, I'll get you an inner tube. You don't have to swim.' I explained that swimming wasn't the issue. I know how to swim. I just don't want to get into freezing water.  His response: 'Here is your inner tube. I will push it.' And this, dear reader, is how I ended up Queen of Sheeba'ing it through Titou Gorge, while everyone else had to swim. 

It was also how I discovered that the water, while plenty chilly, was not as bad as I had feared. This is a good thing because while I was enjoying the waterfall, some miscreant took off with my inner tube. I may have gone in like river royalty but I came out of there a lowly floating peasant.

Some tasty local rum helped us warm up from the inside out before setting off for the next stop.

Stop #2 was Trafalgar Falls. If you think this is a waterfall, you'd be wrong. It is 2 waterfalls,  Mother Falls and Father Falls. Point being, this island is replete with waterfalls. I was told that they have 365 waterfalls, one for every day of the year. When pressed as to the accuracy of this, I had a guide concede that it is actually closer to 80, which means there is some serious rounding up taking place by the Dominica Tourism Board. 

The tour concluded with a stop at a small thermal spring and a visit to the same lookout from Jack's walk. All in all a cool day in the company of some very fun Brits. 

Day 3: Diving was out, there was no ship in town thus no tours, it was time to tackle the public transit system. System might be too generous a term. From best I could tell, the locals rely on private jitneys that run on a schedule of their own making. There are no bus stops, per se. You just have to ask where you should wait if you want to go to x place. In my case, I was trying to get to Scott's Head, on the southern end of the island.  I waited where I was instructed to and found myself on the local school bus. We waited about 40 minutes while kids in uniforms piled in one by one. The driver, knowing that junior high age children are the most dangerous thing known to man, had me sit in the passenger seat. This was a move he no doubt regretted as every time he turned to say two words to me, it was met by a chorus of "Ooooh, Mr Jones has a girlfriend".  

Eventually we dropped off the last little cretin in Soufriere and my boyfriend and I continued to Scott's Head. I'm not sure what I was expecting but what I found was a hill. Nothing more, nothing less. It was a hill, with a bit of informative signage. I almost turned back but at my boo's insistence, I got off and walked to the top. It was by far the nicest view on an island of nice views. On one side was the Caribbean and on the other the Atlantic. In the distance, Matinique was visible. I took at least 20 versions of essentially the same photo, that's how nice it was.

Mi amor had told me that once I was done, I could either wait at the roundabout or start walking to Soufriere and flag down the first bus I saw. I opted for the walk. 40 minutes later, I was in Soufriere, not a bus in sight. 

But I did end up on Bubble Beach, thus named for all the gurgling caused by geothermal activity. I bought a rum punch to rehydrate from my walk and went to dip my toes in the pool. I almost lost those toes. It was hotter than 3 pair of balls in that pool. For sure, any prints I had on those toes have been totally erased. I am now free to commit toe crimes with impunity. 

Roseau was much too far to walk to so I tried once again to get a bus back home. I don't know if that one ever appeared, either, because a nice couple I had been talking to at the hot springs invited me to catch a ride with them and their friends to the next beach to watch the sunset.

I'm not normally one to hitchhike but they were 2 of the most adorable couples ever and they had a car. Either one of those factors would have been enough to win me over. 

We ended up on Champagne Beach, taking novelty pics, playing with stray animals and enjoying a pretty epic sunset. Afterwards, they were nice enough to drop me off at the hostel.

On my final day, I had no choice but to hire a pricey taxi but I justified it by throwing in one condition. I wanted to at least make it a bit of a tour, so I had him stop at one last waterfall. He chose Spanny Falls. In order to get to it, there was a lovely 15 minute walk through the rain forest, making it the perfect parting reminder that Dominica is without question the nature island. And also not the Dominican Republic.