Risking Gualey for a Taste of Paradise

On my little adventure yesterday, my new friends wanted to take me swimming in this natural pool. It’s like a medium-sized hole, and the water is coming from underneath the rocks. Now, it *sounds* beautiful—and trust me, it was—but you know I come on here to tell you the raw, the real, and the unknown. So let’s start unpacking.

When I first got to my friend’s place, I arrived super—*and I mean* super—excited because I brought my camera so we could take pictures and have content for the blog. *Boy,* was that excitement short-lived. They told me in a serious yet joking voice, “Yeah, you can’t bring none of that. Matter of fact, you can’t even bring your phone.” I laughed, thinking they were joking, until another friend chimed in and said, “Oh yeah, and take off your necklace unless you want it snatched over there.”

That’s when I realized they were, in fact, dead serious—and not joking. I was a bit bummed out, but obviously, I was going to listen. You see, there are certain parts of the country that are so hidden, locals warn you about crime and places you shouldn't go alone.

We started our journey around 3:30 PM. *Mind you,* the sun sets around 6-ish here. It’s a 40-minute walk to get to where we were going. Let’s discuss the walk.

The first 15 minutes were just walking through neighborhoods. And when I tell you—each location felt like a new place. You saw the apartments go from new, modern, and cleaned-up, to little huts with tin roofs that make you question how anyone can live in there. And you'd be surprised—these small houses can hold more than five people sometimes.

At one point, we were so far from civilization that when we got into the next neighborhood—basically an alleyway—you’d be shocked that any car or motorcycle could even enter. As we entered, all you could hear was a woman screaming to warn us: *“¡Por ahí atracan!”* (Translation: *“They be robbing people out there.”*) I found it funny—not that they steal, of course—but the way her warning was so hilariously true and how *calmly* she said it.

I wasn’t too scared because we had absolutely nothing on us other than the clothes on our backs—but still, we stayed cautious.

After passing the house, the road turned into a small forest before reaching the next tiny neighborhood. *Now this* is where the pretty little adventure turns into a “Okay, what is going on?” moment.

When I tell you we were hiking through piles of trash—abandoned furniture, luggage, and loads of plastic—I’m not exaggerating. Along the way, we saw a drunk man basically cursing to himself about how dirty the people in the neighborhood are, and how little care they show for keeping the place clean.

As we continued walking, I turned to my left, and there it was: the Ozama River. My only thought was, *“How can a view so beautiful be covered in trash?”* Nonetheless, the adventure continued.

Our checkpoint was this pool of mud—like quicksand—with a stick on the floor to help you balance. But don’t stand on it too long, or you might fall right in. (Almost didn’t take my own advice!)

We passed the first natural pool—more for kids, based on how small it was. A little farther down, we got to the main pool, and I was in *awe.* It was so clean and so pretty, with a rock wall that seemed like it had naturally made steps to climb to the top. There were a lot of people there—it was hot, so it felt like a quarter of the neighborhood was swimming.

As I sat basking in the ambiance, I had a short conversation with my friend, where I mentioned how happy everyone looked. To which he added, “You wouldn’t even think they were poor.” I stopped and took a moment before I replied.

I said, *“Do you think in this very moment they’re focused on being poor, or on the things they may not have? No. They’re simply enjoying life. And if you think about it, they have something most people don’t have access to—free water 25/8. If they can’t shower at home, at least they know where they can collect water.”*

Remember, this natural pool is found in the trenches of the Gualey neighborhood—a very dangerous area in the capital of Santo Domingo. The houses we saw around were the same ones we passed on the way there—small little huts with aluminum tin ceilings.

I felt grateful, yet shameful, in that moment. Grateful to be able to experience something so beautiful and educate myself on the raw, brutal reality of some citizens in my own community. Shameful, because I’m someone who’s constantly searching for *more*—more money, a bigger apartment, a higher-paying job—never truly content.

Now, being content is something I usually don’t agree with. And yes, you should always want more for yourself. But here’s my own rebuttal to that: we get so distracted by constantly searching for more, that we don’t take a few minutes to be grateful for what we *already* have and where we *already* are—without needing to use someone else’s struggle as an example of how life could be worse.

As I was swimming, two little girls caught my attention. They were 12 years old, jumping off the highest rock into the pool. I had the pleasure of speaking with them—their names were Alexandra and Alejandra. They were twins. One of them said, *“I’m Alexandra—I have a scar on the right side of my head because of a horse. She’s Alejandra—she has a scar in the middle of her head because of a horse.”*

I laughed, because I knew she said it to help me tell them apart.

They started talking and playing with us, and then Alejandra casually told us they had found a decapitated body near their house. She said it so calmly, as if this was just a normal occurrence in their neighborhood.

She asked me where I lived, and I told her the area—describing landmarks nearby. I mentioned I lived by the National Aquarium. She said she’s never been—not even to the water park across the street from the aquarium.

It saddened me that, at 12 years old, they haven’t experienced those things. Their biggest experience is the natural pool by their home.

We left shortly after and headed back home. On the walk back, we had a debriefing about the experience—from the walk, to the neighborhoods, to the twins we met. And I knew—it was something I *had* to share and write about.

I want to go back and interview the twins and their family. Hopefully, I can build some kind of trust so I can eventually take them to the aquarium and the water park.

**If you’d like to donate to help make that happen and create an even more meaningful experience, contact @caribbeanhealing on Instagram to find out how you can support.**

Well, that’s all folks.

Con mucho, mucho amor,Ediliana de la Cruz Perez🌴🥥