When I tell people where I live, many, perhaps even most of them, imagine a different place altogether. And so did I before I came here. Having youthfully backpacked with the best of them, I was more than a little irked to discover my knowledge of the globe had a flaw. It seemed I had plenty of company, however. Imagine what it would be like to have to say to everyone “I live in England. No, not New England. England. It’s near France.” It’s a bit like that for me nowadays. Instead of England, I say “Dominica. No, not the Dominican Republic. Dominica. It’s near France.” Actually, it’s baguette-sandwiched between two Caribbean compartments of France, Guadeloupe and Martinique, which makes Christmas wine and cheese runs a little more exotic than taking a ferry from Felixstowe.
Officially known as the Commonwealth of Dominica, though the full name is rarely used, this unassuming, English-speaking Caribbean island was granted independence from Britain in 1978. The indigenous Amerindians who still live within a semi-autonomous region, called it Wai’tukubuli before Columbus turned up with his version of rebranding. The Amerindian translation of Wai’tukubuli is ‘tall is her body’ which, as you would see for yourselves if you ever managed to find us, actually makes a lot more sense than ‘Dominica’. With an interior of lofty, rainforest-covered volcanic peaks, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, hundreds of rivers, countless waterfalls, crater lakes – one of them boiling, and two endemic species of Amazonian parrot, discovering Dominica is a bit like stepping onto the set of a Jurassic Park film. Unless, of course, you find yourself on a beach somewhere near Santo Domingo. No worries, it’s an easy mistake to make.
Not so long ago, this diminutive island of 70,000 grew so fed up with the name confusion that serious consideration was given to reverting to the Amerindian original. Some still support the idea. Fans of the local beer, Kubuli, are quite taken with “Kubuli Country”, I am told. “Wai’tukubuli? Because one Kubuli is never enough” they grin. I suppose Wai’tukubulian may sound rather like an alien from a Star Trek episode, never mind being a bit of a mouthful when we, anonymously yet consistently, crash out of first-round heats at the Olympic games. I recall when my wife and I went into a high street travel shop to buy tickets for my first ever trip here. “You mean the Dominican Republic,” said the rather condescending agent. Taking a deep breath my wife patiently explained that Dominica was a different place altogether. “My dear, I have been in this business for over 20 years and I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that such a place does not exist,’ retorted the travel agent. “Well that’s rather worrying,” said my wife as she turned to leave, “Because I was born there.”
Yet there is a flip side to forever slipping below the mass tourism radar. Being a habitually confused and commonly unknown Caribbean destination means that Dominica is eternally undiscovered. And there is definitely magic in that. For whatever you call it, this is indeed a super-natural place. If you are expecting powder white sands, resort hotels and tiki bars, you are very likely to experience an eyes-popping-out-of-their-sockets moment when Dominica appears in the windows of your LIAT Dash-8, or American Eagle inter-island flight service from the international hubs of Antigua, St Lucia, Barbados or Puerto Rico. Lush tropical greenery and imposing mountains fill your entire field of vision creating a divine opus that is absolutely guaranteed to give you goose bumps all over. The regional passengers on your aircraft will tell you that Dominica reminds them of how the Caribbean used to be, before the rest of the world moved in. Places to stay reflect the natural environment and the unpretentious simplicity of Dominican life. Local wood and stone cottages, eco hotels and wellness retreats attract people looking to reconnect with themselves whilst taking a fresh view of what is really important. Organic food is as abundant and diverse as Dominica’s vast swathes of rainforest habitat, and volcanic hot springs offer relaxation after a day of exploration and discovery.
“This is the most beautiful place on earth,” a farmer once announced to me as I was passing through his land on a hike to a waterfall with no name. “How many other places have you seen ?” I asked rather impishly. “Absolutely none,’” he said. “But who needs to when you have all this ? You just know it.” I suppose he was right. For when I sit on my veranda at dawn or at dusk, watching wisps of cloud sneak over the verdant green peaks of volcanoes to the east, I am kind of happy no-one has any idea where I am.
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