Room with a View

Chapter 2 - The Resort

Narrow winding roads composed of eroding asphalt and random potholes large enough to swallow small animals, threaded their way through thick stretches of trees and shrubs of every shape imaginable. Miller desperately wanted to ask the driver about the different varieties but his location at the rear of the noisy bus prevented any hope over the chatter from the more comfortably ensconced passengers.

In general, he recognized coconut palms and banana groves, yucca plants and other cacti but there was a wondrous assortment of huge broad leaf plants resembling elephant ears and fine feathery fronds that grew in thick clusters as he imagined bamboo might. Everywhere he looked a different shade of green and a different shape of leaf or trunk; it was captivating. So captivating, Miller failed to notice that one of the pre-teens had opened his pack and was sorting through his cache of chocolate bars and fruit drinks.

Passing through some small settlements of shabby huts and lean-tos with ragged cloths for doors and window coverings and small children squatting in the roadside dust with chickens and bony, breed defying dogs, quickly swept the vision of an island paradise away. Miller found himself staring blankly at what moments before had held him entranced; this underbelly of the described paradise would be found nowhere in the travel brochures.

To match the chickens there were bony cows that observed the passing bus with bored, sad eyes, their feeble tails swishing at the squadrons of insects flying about their backs and faces. The engine coughed and vehicle shuddered uncertainly as it crested a steep climb and coasted to the side of the road, stopping and idling like a person suffering from tremors. Orlando stood in the driver's seat facing his cargo of confused, curious passengers.

"Theese ees one of the most famous vistas in all of San Paloma." He waved a majestic arm and thirty odd eyes followed obediently. "The peak you see in the distance poking through the clouds ees Great Tortuga, a living volcano. Een 1872 eet erupted and created the great plain you see below." Everyone rose up and peered downward into a canopy of treetops, which failed to reveal Orlando's proclamation; a few snapped pictures, no doubt feeling an obligation to having seen at least something record worthy.

He continued with his discourse. "Beneath the rain forest trees ees the Mocha Reever, theese runs from the ocean in the north all the way to the ocean een the south. Eet is a highway for the commerce of the people leeving een the rain forest." Appropriate oohs and aahs emanated from the group and when they settled back in their seats, Orlando nodded with pride and continued the drive to the resort, his running dialogue difficult to decipher over competition from the engine.

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The first indication the excited passengers had of the resort was a faint sound of island style music filtering through the dense trees and shrubs, followed quickly by the blessed change from the pitted road to paved brick that wound down to the lavish entrance. A group of young, dark hair and dark-eyed girls with baskets of flowers awaited the bus, all smiling and twirling side to side so that their skirts flared.

Every colour of flower possible adorned the pink stucco façade of the building in pots big and small, hanging and sitting and all with precision placement. The impression was kaleidoscopic. Orlando tooted his horn and bellowed a cheery greeting as the bus shuddered to a smoking, smelly halt and several young men all in white raced forward to unload the luggage.

The young girls quickly handed small bouquets to all the woman and leis to the men, ushering them all inside to the reservation desk. Miller found himself amid a pile of various sized bags, along with the two objectionable children, obviously designated as baggage because of their location on the bus. The children immediately set up a rant comprised of ear-splitting wails and crocodile tears, which drew both parents like a vacuum cleaner on high.