My Destiny - Paradise

I wasn't sure if I would actually make it to Las Terrenas today. I woke up very early, mostly because I went to be very early last night. My bedroom was cool, but as soon as I stepped out into the living room, I could feel the heat. I opened the door and stepped out on to the balcony and could feel the fresh coolness of the morning as the sun beat directly into my apartment. I knew if I didn't leave I would regret it. Remnants of last night - ashtrays, cups and bottles were strewn around the pool. Today being Sunday only promised more drinking and loudness from my hotel mates. I sent a desperate e-mail to Playa Colibri yesterday telling them I was in Boca Chica and wanted to return to Las Terrenas. I asked them if they had anything available. This morning when I got up I had not received a response and figured I wouldn't until later in the day - once they got to checking their e-mail. I decided to chance it and just come, knowing that it was low season, that they had plenty of rooms and that if they were full, there are lots of other places nearby. I went downstairs and told the guy in the office I was checking out and needed a taxi to the bus station. He told me I had to pay $20 penalty for canceling my reservation. I thought this sucked, but it wasn't the hotel's fault that they were located in the gates of hell. I was willing to pay anything to get out. The taxi showed up a little before 9. The driver was friendly and spoke a lot. I understood about 70 per cent of what he said. He told me he was not married and had two daughters with another one due this week. He told me his mother's youngest son had 11 kids and no job. I was thinking that the Catholic Church should be made to support all of these kids who are born into families that can't support them. Birth control would make such a difference in a country like this. Those 11 kids who are probably being raised by their mothers while their father is running around impregnating more women, will end up being lured into crime, drugs or prostitution, since there are so few other options here for people with no money. I got to the bus station at 9:30, and fortunately, thanks to my blog from last year, I remembered to ask for a ticket to Sanchez. The girl behind the window was surly and took her time taking my money and giving me my ticket and change. I went upstairs to the cafeteria to get something to eat, since I had only had a few nuts and some cheese at my hotel. I asked for two empanadas. The woman at the register asked me "two?" kind of incredulously. I said yes. She asked, "anything else?" again seeming somewhat surprised that I was only getting two empanadas. I kind of smiled and said, "no", thinking it was a bit of an odd interaction, but maybe I was just imagining it. I found my bus which had a sign in Spanish and English. The sign said "Destino" and then the translation, which should have been destination, was "destiny". I thought, 'yes, Las Terrenas is my destiny.' I was the second person to board the bus and could not wait. I was prepared with a jacket, knowing it would be very cold, and it was, but it felt so good! Finally, at 10 a.m., we pulled away and began our journey. The driver had some radio station that was playing easy listening songs in English, like the Stylistics, Rick Astley, etc. I was humming along since I knew most of the songs. Then he turned the radio off, and I thought we would ride in silence. Instead, he put some merengue DVD on and I could see and hear a music video. I was so happy to be on my way to Las Terrenas, I didn't care. I sort of dozed off and then woke up to see a movie with Will Smith and Martin Lawrence. They were cops and it involved a lot of cussing, police chases and blowing up of things. I dozed off again and woke up and looked at my watch and it was 11:30! I couldn't believe I had slept for almost an hour. I wonder how loudly I was snoring... We took the new highway which takes half as long to get to Sanchez as the old one. I woke up as we were winding down a mountain pass and a few cows wandered across the highway. When we arrived at Sanchez, a lot of people got off but a few stayed on because there was another stop. Outside the bus a crowd of men gathered looking kind of like the pictures you see of desperate people trying to grab food from a UN food convoy. I knew what they were waiting for ... me! Everyone else I suppose was just walking or getting met by friends or family, but I was a source of income for these guys. They asked me if I needed a taxi or motorbike. I had done the motorbike thing last year and even though it was an adventure, this year I had an extra bag with my laptop and preferred to go in relative comfort. I told them I wanted a taxi. One guy grabbed my bag and brought it to the taxi. The first time this ever happened to me was in Indonesia when a small kid grabbed my bag and then insisted I pay him. I was furious because I could have carried the bag myself. Today I willingly let the guy grab my bag and willingly gave him 50 pesos (about $1.50). We then stood at the taxi with my bag in the back and had a discussion between me, the taxi driver and two motorbike drivers. One had apparently just finished a cracker or something because he had crumbs on his lips that flew at me when he spoke. He was the most aggressive of the three. They asked me if I knew how much the taxi was. I told them 400 pesos, thinking that the taxi was 400 pesos and the motorbike was 200. They said, no, the moto was 400 and the taxi was 1500. 1500?!! Wow, I really felt like they were trying to rip me off. I considered taking the moto, but said I had a big bag. The younger and less aggressive moto driver who didn't have crumbs on his lips told me it was no problem. I asked him to show me his bike, and he pointed to it. Then the taxi driver pounded on the seat and told me to get in - dust flying up from the seat as he hit it. I thought he was going to negotiate the price with me. He was a portly older guy named "el chivo" (the goat). I told him I did not remember paying that much last year. He told me times were tough since tourism is down. I remembered that we are having a global economic crisis. I started to soften. And then it hit me. I did pay 1500 last year for a taxi and 400 for the moto. There was no cheating going on, just a little competition over the small crumbs I was going to throw in someone's direction. El Chivo told me that prices were up, gasoline was more expensive, and tourism was way down. He tried to get me to commit to having him pick me up next Saturday when I return to Sanchez. He asked me if I wanted a nice clean girl. I told him I would call him next Saturday and was not interested in a girl. I didn't tell him why I left Boca Chica. 

The streets of Las Terrenas were very quiet, as the streets of Santo Domingo were. Both of my drivers pointed this out and told me it was because today was mother's day. Most people were at home or had gone somewhere, many to return to spend the day with their mothers. As soon as we hit the road that runs along the beach I felt a sense of calm and relief come over me. The ocean was beautiful and the air felt fantastic. The beach road was dry and had only one big puddle, whereas last year it was nearly a river. Playa Colibri had a room for me, no problem. Everything is pretty much the same, but two things are better. There is air-conditioning in the bedroom (if I need it) and the restaurant is open. I went into town to go to the supermarket, fortunately, I took a moto-taxi, because when we got to the Plaza Rosada where the French supermarket is, it was obvious it was closed. I told the driver there was no point in me stopping. He drove a bit to find another supermarket, but everything in town was closed. I told him to just take me back and paid him for the round trip (100 pesos). I then went to the restaurant and had a delicious piece of grilled fish with a side of steamed vegetables, went for a swim and had a nice walk on the beach. I'm looking forward to my week in paradise, which I will appreciate even more after having experienced a little bit of hell.

Villa Florencia

This grand building stood outside of my bedroom window in Boca Chica. It was part of my view from my hotel in the gates of hell. I wondered what it was and figured it out as I walked past last night. Instead of telling you, I want to see if anyone can figure it out. Correct answer wins a week in Boca Chica!

Boca Chica - Mouth of Hell

Ok, Boca Chica does not really mean mouth of hell, it's small mouth or something like that, but it certainly seems like the gate to hell. I shoulda done my homework, is all I can say. Problem is, I've been to many places and never found a place to be completely and utterly disagreeable....until now. I arrived by taxi from Santo Domingo. I asked the girl in the office of my hotel how much my taxi would be and she called and asked and was told 800 pesos - a little over $10. Not bad for a 30 minute taxi ride. When I got in the taxi, I asked the driver. He radioed in and asked and the dispatcher told him 800 pesos, which he repeated to me. "That's fine" I said. As we almost reached the entrance to Boca Chica the driver told me that he told me it was 800 pesos, but he had to give the girl at the hotel 100 pesos tip. What did that mean for me?, I asked him. He said he was just letting me know and if I wanted to give him a tip.... I told him he had quoted me a fare of 800 pesos, but I ended up giving him the 100 pesos anyway. It was the beginning of the adventure. When I called to change my reservation from tomorrow to today because the place I was staying in Santo Domingo was so noisy and moldy and I had to get out, I asked them when I could arrive. They told me anytime after 11. I couldn't get here soon enough and ended up arriving around 11:30. The guy at the desk told me my room was not ready because checkout was at 2. I put my things in an empty room and went down to check out the beach. From what I remembered from when we passed through last year, it was beautiful. Well, my memory was a little distorted. Parts of the beach were beautiful. There was white sand and blue water, but in the distance you could see big tanks from some sort of refinery or concrete mill. The beach is not very big, but as I walked along I was acosted by just about every person I passed. People pointing to tables for me to eat or drink, guys offering me girls and massages, women smiling at me and touching me. On top of that, it was the hottest day since I've been here and the sun was beating down mercilessly. Eventually, I couldn't take it any more and went up to the street, thinking I'd find a nice place to eat. There were no nice places to eat. This is the Carribean, but apparently Carribean food is hard to come by. Mostly there were pizza shops, Italian restaurants, and Swiss food (whatever that is). Signs advertising that they change euros gave me an idea of the type of tourists who come here. I walked back to my hotel feeling like I'd made a big mistake. I ended up eating a hamburger in the little restaurant at my hotel next to the pool because it was all they had. I gave half of it to a kitty who was sleeping under the table. A big Dominicanorker (Dominican from New York) sat by the pool drinking beer and talking to a guy in the water. Two women came down for a swim and the other guy left but the DRNYer started talking to the women and drinking more beer. The women told the maid to turn the music up, which she did. I was sweating bullets. I was feeling like this was not the relaxing get-away I was looking for. I was wondering what was taking so long to get my room ready. The Newyorminicano started getting louder. I took off my shoes and stuck my feet in the pool, thinking I would cool down. I didn't. Finally a guy came and told me he was ready to bring my luggage up. Maybe this is what the hold up was? This guy wasn't around? I had seen the maid cleaning the room that turned out to be mine and didn't see anyone check out, so I believe the room was available and clean, but the guy to carry my bag was not here. I came up to the room, which is ok, but was hot. Turned on the a/c and it took forever to cool down. The a/c is a little noisy and only cools the bedroom. I'm sitting in the living room with all of the doors and windows open and am still sweating, even though it has cooled down outside. The Newyorminicano got louder as more of his friends arrived and he drank more beer. I was thinking that I needed to get out of here and checked online to see what options I had. Then everyone at the pool left and it got quiet (it is noisy again now). I thought, "well, I have a pool here, even if I won't be going to the beach (because it is obvious I won't be able to relax on the beach) - I have a decent apartment, and I have some good books, maybe I can stay a week". After taking a nap, I went to check out the main drag and pick up some things at the supermarket. As I was walking down a group of young guys approached me, speaking loudly (I think they might have been drunk or high) and asked me where I was from. I tried to wave them away. The most aggressive of them said something about Italy, and asked again where I was from, so I said, "Italia". I'm not sure why. Probably Italians have more money than Americans these days with the strength of the Euro. He kept following me, talking fast and shoving a card in my face. I kept gesturing for him to go away until finally I just stopped and threw my meanest, most threatening look at him. He said something to me and turned around and left. It was at that moment that I decided it was time for me to leave too. I came back and e-mailed Playa Colibri, the beautiful place I rented an apartment at last year. I had the beach to myself most of the week I was there, except for a cute little boy with dreadlocks and a dog. There was a good supermarket and the kitchen was well stocked. I left feeling relaxed and the whole time I was there I felt very safe and comfortable. Hopefully I will be leaving the mouth of hell tomorrow.

Zona Colonial

My days consist mostly of eating, sleeping and finding places to keep cool. I'm feeling more comfortable here than I did when I first arrived last year, mostly because I got a feel for the place through my lucky find, my tour guide, Ernesto. So last night, after the sun set, I decided to take a walk through some of the streets that I passed through in Ernesto's air-conditioned jeep last year.

I am struck by the number of old buildings that remain. Big, stone, colonial buildings, some in ruin, others being used as churches or whatever. I wonder if these buildings were originally temples that were torn down by the Spanish and the stones used to build monuments to themselves and their gods.

I loved walking around and seeing people hanging out, listening to music, playing chess or dominos, talking, eating, etc. No one has air-conditioning, it seems, so everything is open, and people hang outside to keep cool.

I find it ironic, somehow poetic, that this island which is the birthplace of the new world, in many ways represents the worst in exploitation by colonizers, slave traders and missionaries. The Dominican Republic seems to be surviving, but on the other end of the island lies Haiti, a country in total ruin with a population that is starving and has no means of escape. I read in the newspaper today that 60 Haitians trying to make it to Miami on a raft were intercepted by the coast guard. Too bad they weren't Cubans, they would have been welcomed in with open arms. Coming from a totalirian state that happens to be a US puppet doesn't count when one's life is at stake. They were sent back to Haiti - a virtual death sentence.

Yet, here in the DR, in the colonial zone, tourists arrive and visit the "first" church in the new world, and the "first" street, and the "first" hospital, and take pictures with the pigeons in front of the statue of Colombus and think nothing of what colonization and slavery meant for the millions who have suffered, nor for those who have benefited. I love coming here and will enjoy my time at the beach, but I somehow feel that my prior justification that my much-needed tourist dollars are helping just isn't cutting it. I feel like I should be coming here and doing something to help, not just coming so that I can relax. I remember this feeling from last year, this unsettling feeling that I am somehow exploiting the poverty of the people who live here. We'll see where this feeling leads me as I sit on the beach next week and read the two books I brought to help me out.

Hellish Trip

Travel used to be a lot of fun. I remember the thrill of getting on an airplane, the flight attendants smiling and handing out bags of peanuts and all of that. Things have changed for sure. Aside from nearly having to strip to your underwear to clear security, now airlines apparently do not even provide headphones. I watched "Paul Blart Mall Cop" without sound. I don't think I missed much but it would have been nice to hear what was being said.

I spent a hellish time in Miami airport. I am definitely spoiled by airports such as Bangkok and Singapore, where you can eat great food, get massages and pedicures, go shopping and even rent a day room. Miami has very little, which is quite disturbing, since it is an international airport which receives a lot of visitors. I thought USA was number 1.....

My flight to Santo Domingo was supposed to leave at 5:30 p.m. and get me into Santo Domingo at 7:40. It would have given me time to check in and go out and get some water and things to stock up my refrigerator.

When I arrived in Miami at 2:30, thinking I would have a short layover, I saw that the departure had been changed to 7:30. Shit!

I got some terrible Chinese food because I was starving, and then walked and found my gate. The departure lounge was pretty empty. They had these mobile charging stations and I plugged my laptop in and tried connecting to wireless. No success.

I got up and walked around a bit. Stopped at another mobile charging station and tried again. No success.

Finally, after repeated attempts, I was able to connect to the internet and purchase 30 minutes of wireless time. I sent an e-mail to my hotel telling them I would be arriving late and called some guy an asshole on facebook.

I went and looked at the departure board and my flight was now scheduled to leave at 8:20. I e-mailed my hotel again and told them it was delayed until 8:40, and gave them the flight number so they could check. I was afraid I was going to spend the night in Miami airport.

Turns out the departure time was changed to 8:40.

The departure lounge was now full and very noisy with kids running around and people yelling at one another in both English and Spanish (they were having conversations across the room but for me it was yelling). I was irritable and wanted to find a quiet place but there were none. Two pizzas later, we finally started to board. It took forever.

The plane of course was packed. It was obvious that many people boarding had never flown before and people did not know how to find their seats. The flight attendants were not helping.

Once everyone was settled I fell asleep. I woke up an hour later to find we were still sitting on the runway. Finally at 9:45 we took off.

I got in after 11, got my bag, grabbed a taxi and arrived at my hotel at about 12:30 a.m. My room was hot and smelled like mildew. It is not very nice, but what can you expect for $45 per night? After reading about Paul Farmer in Haiti, and thinking about poor Haitians sleeping on dirt floors with hardly a roof over their head, what I had was luxurious. Still, it made me decide to spend less time in Santo Domingo. It is hot and noisy here and I came for the beach, so I am trying to contact my hotel in Boca Chica to see if I can arrive one day earlier and stay until June 8 when I leave for New York. Even if there is nothing to do there, there will be the beach and a pool and I can relax without horns honking all day long.

It is nice to be back though and see some familiar faces. I recognized the waiter at the restaurant where I had breakfast and saw the very buxomy newspaper girl. I know my way around and know where to change money and find a cool internet cafe, which is where I am now, even though I foolishly brought my laptop with me.

Now I have to tinkle, so I´d better go.