Las Terrenas - French Outpost

I don't know why I didn't see it as clearly last year when I was here, but this place, Las Terrenas, as beautiful as it is, is also a tale of two cities. On the one hand there is the Dominican life - fishermen, cooks, maids, security guards, motorcycle taxi drivers - and on the other hand there is French life. My little hotel complex apparently is run by someone French - it seems that way anyway, since the people who seem to be in charge in the office ar French. There was a nice young French woman there last year who was very helpful. This year, there is an older French woman who seems to be always busy even though the complex which has 64 apartments, probably has 5-10 guests. A nice young man who works in the office, who I thought was Dominican is actually Haitian, and was hired, I suppose, for his ability to speak French (he also speaks English and Spanish).

Last night I broke from my normal routine of cooking at home and decided to walk into "town" to get something to eat. I went to a pizzeria I went to the other night. I had fish, which was very good - cooked with coconut milk. I noticed a blond guy who seemed to be in charge, even though the cooks and the servers were Dominican. I assumed he was the owner. On both sides of that restaurant were chic little restaurants, also run by French.

After dinner I wanted to go and pick up a snack. I went to a little grocery store I went to when I first arrived last year. I passed a new, and very chic little cafe that recently opened, trendy pleatherette chairs in red and white sat by little tables with candles and red mood lighting as poor Haitian construction workers went home from working all day in the hot sun.

The grocery store last year reminded me of a Zimbabwean supermarket I had seen on the news. I was exaggerating. This year I was not. Where I remembered there being shelves and aisles, now there was a big empty space with some shelves along the sides and back wall. There was not much to be bought. Dominicans sat around talking. I left.

I walked further down, past the car/jeep/motorcycle rental, run by French, and came across a little shopping center. I thought they might have a grocery store with some good snacks. I walked past a bar that was filled with - you guessed it - French - with French people working, and French people sitting around drinking and smoking.

I went into the center of the shopping center which was beautifully landscaped and came across a chic jewelry store, a French woman working inside greeted her customers with a kiss on both cheeks. A money changer with a French man inside and little French children playing outside stood across from the pharmacy, which had some French name. This shopping center was little France. I did not see one Dominican or Haitian inside the complex - well, actually I did - a few security guards.

I left and walked out to the main street where a large group of motorcycle taxi drivers waved at me, held up a finger to see if I wanted a ride - I shook my head 'no' and crossed the street to another little complex. I passed a French bakery and found another grocery store, seemingly run by Dominicans, I thought so because there was very little to buy.

I was feeling angry and kind of sick by the whole scene. I turned around and started to walk home.

The little French kids who were playing inside of the shopping center were now in front, taunting two darker children who were standing there toyless, while these kids each had some sort of toy in their hands.

I passed through the former fishing village where the pizzeria I ate at now stands, and the little shacks that used to be the fishermen's huts now house fancy little restaurants with menus in Spanish, English and French, many of them serving French or European food. French people dressed in casual evening wear stood outside chatting as Dominican security guards sat expressionless holding large rifles.

As I walked along the beach road, the only other people walking were the Haitians, returning from somewhere, going somewhere. Most of them do not raise their eyes when I pass. Some of them will look at me, raise their eyebrows in a gesture of greeting and continue walking. All Terrain Vehicles with blond children passed and large SUVs and mini-vans with tinted windows swerved around the Haitians and myself - you can guess who was inside - neither Dominicans or Haitians.

I really like this place, but I feel like I am contributing to the inequality of it all by giving my money to the French. Sure, they pay rents and taxes (I suppose they pay taxes), but that money just goes to the Dominican elites. They apparently employ some Dominicans, and I am sure in their homes (for those who do not live in hotels), they have Dominican servants. But I just wonder why there can not be a more equitable sharing of the wealth here, especially by those who gave us the French revolution. Where is the equality and fraternity that was promised by the event that overthrew the French monarchy and supposedly changed the world?

To me this seems like the perfect vacation spot - it is quiet, beautiful, and I love the hotel complex with my own little apartment, but I can't stand seeing this division of wealth that is so stark, so blatant, and so self-conscious.

I just wonder how the French or anyone else would feel if the tables were turned - if there were a huge foreign invasion and people ran restaurants and cafes and flaunted their wealth while the locals were left with the scraps that came from providing security, cleaning, or selling trinkets on the beach.