And I Lose Track of the Days

Ok, a few pages back, I was writing about yesterday, but I don't want today to fade before I get to write about it.

We woke up a little late this morning. Ate breakfast and asked if it might be ok to take a little swim in the river before we had to leave the North part of the island, which is comfortable and easy now, and feels like home.
On our way to the pool we already knew, we remembered Nigel's Secret Pools. Directions were as follows: Go down the road until you see where a concrete building used to be. Turn and find with your eyes the track with ginger lilies on your right. There is some dirt on the left.
That's all, folks. At the time, we thought these directions more than sufficient and did not foresee any problems. This trek would be a solid predictor for the rest of the day, but we couldn't have known.
And off we went. We found where the building used to be; there was a patch of dirt that had clearly been home to something concrete at some point. We were not sure what ginger lilies actually looked like, but we were willing to bet that the giant red flowers on our left were what Nigel was talking about. It wasn't entirely clear where the path was, so we shrugged our shoulders and walked in. It was a lot like Field of Dreams, where they disappear into the cornfield. No trail of crumbs to find our way back, no real idea of where we were going, and we didn't really care.
Eventually, we found something that actually looked like a path. There was a fork, which we didn't give much thought to. The track seemed pretty obvious, running along a crop of banana trees that seemed to have been tended to. The grass was stomped and we felt good about where we were. Calf-deep in mud, maybe, but good just the same.
And then. We are practically whistling along this path, we are so secure in where we are and where we're going. I am looking down at my feet, trying not to slip and die on the four inches of mud we are sludging through when Erin says, "Jamie, oh my God." Now, the last time Erin said this was in Greece. And the subject of the concern was a Serbian man at a dead run through the streets of Santorini trying to catch us as we first ran away and then ducked behind bushes. It's not a phrase the girl uses lightly, as neither of us are all that worried about much when it comes to travel. But here it was. The Erin code for "Holy shit, something very bad is maybe happening." I look up from my muddy feet to find us under a house. Yep. Under. A. House. This is my cue to turn on my heels and pretend like I know how to get back. Erin was a little braver and inched closer until we heard, "Hello" from above us. The dude was hanging out his window, maybe or maybe not surprised to find two girls trekking under his home. Dominica is still home to natives, maybe of whom live like this. In sort of stilted houses right next to whatever they grow and sell. This particular family likely lived off of the bananas we walked past. If I were to guess, I would say that those bananas are their entire livelihood.
He came down to us, tried to introduce us to a woman and their child, and asked us if we were headed to the Secret Pools. Clearly not the first time this has happened. He was very sweet, cutlass and all, and walked us to the proper trail, explaining that we saw the track to his house and assumed that it was the right way.
So, this Asian-looking man with a West Indian accent set us the right way with a smile and went back to his own life. And we were off again, this time convinced that we were going exactly where we should be. Ha.
The travel dynamic between Erin and myself is funny; when it comes to meeting or following or trusting a stranger, I am all in. I don't even question it. Erin inevitably gives me her scrunched forehead and the look that says, "Jamie, are we really doing this? This does not seem like a good idea." And then she comes with me and we either have a great time or a really good story.
Conversely, when it comes to trails, she's 100% down for anything, including trails that (eventually) end underneath some dude's house. She damn near sprints into rivers without checking the current and walks until it is physically impossible to stay upright on whatever muddy, slippery, vertical spot of land we find ourselves. It's my turn, then, to give her scrunched looks and wonder about her sanity. But, just as she figures it will be interesting at worst to follow whomever wants us to follow, I figure it will be interesting at worst to follow her into the Dominican jungle. We balance each other out quite well and have never found ourselves in actual danger, despite begging for it more times than is really ok.
So, we are now attempting to walk on a vertical piece of land. There are crabs here, and they don't seem too friendly. They definitely don't think that we are cute the way we think they're cute. And they have big claws. It is already difficult to navigate a virtual cliff face without little crustaceans attempting murder at every tree root. But we haven't died yet. And we haven't found the pools. Keep going.

Oh, there is so much more to this day. But I have to stop and have a Kabuli and call it a night. More tomorrow.