My New Tour Guide

I think I was traumatized by the heat yesterday.

After cooling down for an hour in the internet cafe, I went to the supermarket and got some juice, yogurt and a few mangos. It turns out that even though I have a kitchen in my apartment, I can't cook because there are no pots or pans. My kitchen in Las Terrenas was really well stocked, it even had one of those little coffee pots where you put the water in the bottom and then the grounds and close it up and when the water boils it moves up to the top half and becomes coffee. It was nice being able to eat breakfast on my terrace, and also to eat lunch and dinner in.

So I left the supermarket laden with three bags of stuff (the bag boy gave me lots of unnecessary bags) and then I stopped at KFC because it had almost been an hour since I had last eaten. I figured I would eat lunch in my cool apartment (and decided to go the unhealthiest route possible). I got back to my place and was nearly dead from heat exhaustion by the time I climbed the stairs to my third floor apartment. The maid was just finishing up cleaning. I dropped my bags on the counter and made the mistake of opening my big mouth. I said "hace calor" (it's hot) and she agreed. She then proceeded to go into the bedroom and pick up the remote control for the air conditioner and tried for about 5 minutes to get the stupid thing to work. I would have been much happier if she had just left so I could strip down to my boxers and turn the damn thing on myself. But she stood there and she would turn it on but then for some reason she was not satisfied and she'd hit the button again and it would go off. The whole time I was getting more and more frustrated and wanting to just grab the remote out of her hand and push her out the door. Maybe she was waiting for some sort of tip or something, or else she just had no idea what she was doing. I drank some water, hoping it would cool me down. Finally, she left!

I went into the bedroom to find that the air conditioner was off! The little vent was closed, and it was sleeping like a baby. I looked around for the remote but could not find it. I searched on and under the bed, on the night stand, in the bathroom, in the living room, and it was nowhere to be found. I did a 2nd search, getting even hotter as my frustration level rose. Still, it was not anywhere to be found. I looked outside to see if she had dropped it outside my door, or if I could find her and ask her, but neither she nor the remote were there. Finally, I went downstairs and found her in the office. She said she had put it on the bed (or at least that is what I heard "en la cama"). I told her I didn't see it.

So we both went upstairs again and I went into the bedroom and moved the pillows to show her that it was not on the bed. She stood in the doorway and pointed to the wall, where she had placed the remote control in the holder that was mounted on the wall next to the door! I thanked her and she left, probably thinking I was an idiot. I was really hot and ready to pass out.

I turned the air conditioner on and closed off the bedroom so it would cool down and sat on the bed and ate my chicken strips and a few of the cold greasy fries and drank my "merengue" soda (which was a very strange flavor that I could only describe as bubble gum), and then I felt sick and lay down to take a nap.

I spent most of the afternoon resting, since it never rained and I imagined it was hot outside. At tbout 6:00, I went out for dinner.

I went to a little restaurant a few blocks away that is quiet and does not get hit with the shoe shine boys, beggars and prostitutes like the other restaurant I usually eat at. I ordered grilled chicken and got a piece of grilled chicken that was a breast, leg and thigh and was so dry I could hardly chew it. It came with a pile of very dry, hard white rice, and a tiny, teeny little pile of mashed potatoes with a sprig of parsley in it that was bigger than the pile of potatoes - I think the potatoes were there more as a garnish than as an actual part of the meal. Not a very good meal. Where was the delicious Carribean food I was expecting?

I went back to my apartment to recover from the meal. Since the restaurant was on a very busy square across from the Plaza de Independencia, and it was rush hour, my meal was spent breathing in car fumes and listening to incessant beeping as thousands of moving vehicles tried to make their way around this traffic circle that went around the plaza.

After watching a few dumb movies on TV I decided to head out for ice cream. It had started to rain, but only a light drizzle, so it was now hot and steamy, but there was still very little breeze. I walked down El Conde, the pedestrian street that runs down to Plaza Colon. It reminded me of a very run down, though more lively version of the very grand Avenida de Mayo in Buenos Aires. Along El Conde are lots of clothing stores, shoe stores, video arcades, etc., and also lots of very run down old deco buildings. It has definitely seen better days. But it certainly has character. Some stores were already closed, but there were still lots of people milling around.

I got a pineapple ice cream which was very yellow and had lots of chunks of ice in it. It was not that good. I decided to walk down to Plaza Colon and sit for a bit before returning to my room. I was beginning to really look forward to going home, as the end of my vacation really seemed to have turned into me finding ways to avoid the heat.

Plaza Colon was buzzing with activity as usual. People sitting at the cafe on the corner, other people sitting on benches, and some people looking like they were working (if you know what I mean). The millions of pidgeons that usually swarm around the plaza where asleep somewhere. The Hard Rock Cafe had tables set outside with torches and there was music coming from somwhere. Thunder rolled through the air and lightening lit up the sky threatening a very big storm, but still there was only a very light drizzle and the air was thick and humid.

As soon as I sat down a young man came over and sat with me. Of course I knew he was working me, but he seemed nice enough, so we talked a bit. He told me he was studying computers and was not currently in school and looking for a way to earn extra money. He said he had a car and would take me on a tour of the city if I would help him out.

It's funny because earlier in the day I thought that it would be nice if I could find someone to take me outside of this little area I've been staying in so I could see some of the rest of the city. It is not something I would want to do on my own, because it seems very difficult to get around here (even walking is tough). I was thinking about asking a taxi driver how much he would charge me for a half day tour or something like that, but I had not found anyone I felt comfortable asking yet, and hadn't really thought through what I wanted to do.

There is a group of tour guides who stand outside the "first" church in the "new" world, and one of them, after giving me a free tour inside the cathedral (which consisted of him giving me way too much information that I didn't need with numbers, names and dates I can not remember and had me trying to figure out how I was going to get away from him) offered to give me a private tour for $20. I had thought about that, but the guy talked way too much, and the 2nd time I saw him, and he again offered me a tour, he said in a very confidential kind of whisper that he would take me to a place where I could see them making jewelry and cigars and buy things at Dominican prices. I know this scam from Thailand where I went on a half day city tour that took me to three temples (when there are thousands) and ended with me going to a Thai silk factory and a wood working factory where I was expected to buy something (I didn't), and the tour guide would have received a nice comission which would have been paid for by yours truly (so much for the discount).

So, my two options for doing some sort of tour, approaching an unknown entity in the form of a taxi driver, or going with a very chatty guide with ulterior motives, were not that appealing.

And then I met Ernesto.

I felt a little uncomfortable trusting this guy, but he seemed pretty trustworthy. He was cute, which helped, but also he was very friendly and likeable. He had a very gentle, easygoing manner, was well dressed and smelled good. He offered me a ride back to my hotel.

He had a nice jeep kind of car and I liked the music he was playing. It was after seeing his car (which had air conditioning) that I decided I would give it a shot. I asked him how much he wanted and he said whatever I wanted to give him. Ugh! I hate being put in that position.

So we arranged for him to pick me up at 10 this morning. I thought he would be late. Instead he was 20 minutes early!

We started off driving along a road that runs along the coast, which turns out to be about three blocks from where I am staying. I had no idea it existed.

There are lots of big hotels and casinos along this road, which I didn't know were there. But there was also a lot of traffic that was going nowhere, so Ernesto turned off and took me through some of the neighborhoods. It was interesting to see a little of where people lived.

We went through Gazcue, which is a ritzy residential neighborhood with some big houses with big yards and nice tree lined streets. It is where the restaurant I went to with Miguel is located, but it was dark when we went and I was watching where I was walking, so I didn't see much. Now, in the comfort of this nice air conditioned car with nice music and a handsome nice-smelling man, I could sit back and enjoy the sights.

We next went through the National Autonomous University of Santo Domingo, which was founded in 1538 or something like that. We drove through the campus, which was huge, and it was a relief to see lots of students walking around. As poor as things seem here, there was this big public university which seemed to provide some hope for a better life for people. I was also relieved to see people of all colors on campus, so the university was not just reserved for the rich white kids (who probably study abroad). When we drove in the guard at the gate gave Ernesto a little laminated card. We drove out a different gate and Ernesto gave the card to the guard as we left. I asked him what the card was for, and he explained it was to prevent people who came without a car from leaving with one! Pretty clever.

We went through some moderate class neighborhoods, and Ernesto stopped for gas. He pointed out some shacks staked one on top of another with laundry visible hanging on every available outside surface. He said that was a low class neighborhood and they have only alleys, no streets, so you cannot drive through them. They reminded me of pictures I've seen of the slums above Rio. This is probably where the shoe shine boys live.

From there we went up a road through a lush high rise neighborhood with lots of new construction. From this road, there was a view down to the ocean, and a large park with a very big playground. I don't think the shoe shine boys from Plaza Colon are allowed to come here to play. We passed Sammy Sosa's house, which was a big mansion behind a big wall. It was such a contrast from the slums we had seen a few minutes earlier. This is where I would want to live if I lived in Santo Domingo, but I felt sorry for those who could not live behind these high rise, gated, secure walls.

We drove back towards the ocean and Ernesto told me about motels. He asked me if I knew what a motel was, and I responded that I thought I did. But this was a motel Latin American style. I'd seen them in Mexico and Costa Rica. So much for these Catholic countries morals.

This motel area was very similar to the ones I'd seen before. Lots of very fancy looking motels with high walls, and lots of Vegas like decoration outside. You enter the motel through a small portal where you pay through a window to a person you can not see and who can not see you (this is what Ernesto told me, we didn't actually do this). Then you drive up to a garage which closes behind you and from the safety of your garage, you enter your room. The whole thing is about DISCRETION. So, married guys can bring their mistresses, or misters, or unmarried couples can find a safe place to have fun while still living at home. I've come to really appreciate these things about countries that supposedly have such strict moral standards. These open secrets, which allow people to have fun and still maintain the appearance of conforming.

I remember in Costa Rica where I was lucky enough to meet a very nice guy who also gave me a very grand tour that when we were in the motel neighborhood, my friend (whose name I can't remember now) told me that you could see guys driving around alone who were talking to themselves, so people joked that they were riding with ghosts. Actually, they were driving with another person who had their head down out of view so that no one could see them as they entered the motel!

From the motel zone (which I would love to see at night) we headed back down the ocean drive to a restaurant where we had goat stew, a very typical Dominican dish. I had mine with yucca and Ernesto had his with tostones (fried plaintains) - we had Presidente, Dominican beer, which tasted a lot like Miller to me.

Ernesto is very sweet and he was an excellent tour guide. He showed me everything there was to see here, from the different neighborhoods, the motels, the views, the national theater, the presidential palace, the post office and even the US Embassy. We had a nice lunch and he took me back to my apartment.

On our drive, he asked me if I could tell him how to study English. I asked if he had a computer, because I was going to recommend some internet sites, and I was surprised to find out he didn't, even though that was his major in university.

I brought my old MAC laptop with me, thinking I would give it to Anthony to donate to Casa Rosada, a house for orpans with AIDS. Before I left I had been reading on his website about it and he was asking for donations of books, crayons etc. I lucked out and happened to be at Alta Books ( my publisher ) right before I left and they were giving away lots of free books, so I was able to fill a suitcase with childrens books in Spanish which I gave to Anthony to give to Casa Rosada. But when I asked him if they needed a laptop, he said he wasn't sure and has since not gotten back to me on it.

My laptop has not really served me as well as it should have. From the time I bought it, I found it hard to use and it really only came in handy between the time my old computer died and I got a new one. I really wanted to give it to someone rather than lug it home again and give it to Goodwill.

So I gave it to Ernesto. I don't know if he will be able to make good use of it or not, but I hope so.

After we played with the computer a little and I reset the passwords for him he said he was going to go home, but offered to pick me up later for dinner (of course I am paying, which I don't mind at all if it means not having to eat KFC again). He also offered to take me to the beach tomorrow, which at first I was not too keen on doing since I just came back from a week at the beach, but then I thought it would be fun to see some places closer to Santo Domingo that he liked (and also I had so much fun on our tour earlier today that I thought it would be fun to do), and we'd probably have lunch at a nice place right on the beach. But hanging over me like a dark cloud was the issue of the money.

Finally I told him that I wanted to discuss it, and again he said that I could give him whatever I wanted.

I just went for it and offered him $100 for the two days, plus an extra thousand pesos ($30) if he took me to the airport on Thursday (that is what I would have paid a taxi). He said ok with a very sly smirk and I was not sure if it was a good smirk or not, so I asked him if it was ok, and he said yes. So I don't know if I am paying him a ridiculous amount by Dominican standards or not, but meeting him has really changed the feeling of this, the end of my trip. He´s a really nice guy, he seems very trustworthy and I like spending time with him. And now I don't have to worry that at the end of this trip he's going to ask me for some ridiculous amount of money, and I don't have to worry about how I am getting to the airport or how much it will cost me (because even taxi fares are not really that clear).

So I am off now to pick up a fruit salad from one of the vendors on the street (that I only noticed today), and then take a nap before dinner.