Party time

It has been a 3 day whirlwind of fun. Friday night Bruce and Kelly had us over for a marvelous greek bar-b-que dinner.

Saturday we spent the afternoon at the beach watching the kite boarders. The experts are fun for the air time and stunts and the beginners are fun for the big splashes and crashes. Our favorite beach bar threw a Halloween party Saturday night. Mike and Marisol plus a young Swedish couple renting the other apartment and several of the neighbors showed up. It was karaoke night and several singers were very good, but one was so bad it was funny. I did not participate because I didn't want to make the bad one sound only next to the worst.

Sunday morning we strolled down the beach with Bruce and Kelly. Bruce and I were behind De Anne and Kelly. At one point our conversation mutually stopped so all attention could be focused on a somewhat common, but always riveting sight. Kelly turned around, smiled, and caught us looking at the nubile, young lady busy making sure her tan was even all over. Without further distraction we arrived at their favorite beach pub for Sunday brunch. Afterwards we did a little shopping and Bruce treated us to a real taxi ride. Everyone had their own seat and no chickens at all aboard!
Saturday kiters:
Waves slamming the reef:
Not too crowded for a Saturday:
Christine, our Swedish neighbor, as a pirate:
Sunday brunch view:
Self-explanatory:
Kelly and Bruce's house:

In the neighborhood

Yesterday the gate guard waved to us to follow him into the woods near the front gate. Normally De Anne and I might hesitate to follow a stranger into a third-world jungle; however, Luis has always had a friendly wave and greeting for us in our walks. After a few yards we saw a young colt with a piece of clothesline around its lower jaw and secured to a tree. It was well groomed and healthy looking.


Inside the neighborhood there is another option for those not wanting to go to the expense of topping the compound walls with razor wire. Beer bottles are another option and show how even here recycling is done.

Our neighbor Bruce showed me his stash of bottles he will be using to top his wall. He has chosen the Presidente bottles, going for the green motif. He still has a few cases to drink to have enough, but he is working on filling his supply.

Where the boys are

Way back when I was gainful employed and a dutiful taxpaying citizen wandering the streets of downtown Indianapolis most of my throughts centered on "How am I ever going to get out of here?"; but occasionally I would raise my eyes and notice the lack of men my age. I would think "Where are they?" and more importantly, "Is there a secret place for men in their 50's I didn't hear about?"

There are plenty of women in their 50's in America. I see them everywhere. When not at work, they are walking small dogs. Usually fluffy and white (the dog, not the woman), and maybe a jaunty, pink bow - even if it's a male. The pink bow on the dog is a signal to any man - this woman WILL control you given the chance. Sorry, I digress. But, first a personal note - My lovely wife of 30 years likes big, tough dogs, without bows.

Now having left the cloistered environment of Indianapolis, Indiana I have discovered the whereabouts of those missing men. Some are living on decrepited boats in Florida. Others are in Panama, and a pile of them are in the Dominican Republic. "Why?" you ask. Well, the tropical setting (older men don't like the cold), a cheaper cost-of-living to stretch that pension or 401k, and well.... ahem, short-term, nonconversational companionship. Not everything that's a crime in America is a crime elsewhere.

Calm moment, and not

The park overlooking the ocean in Sosua.
(click any picture to enlarge)


The ride back. Notice the yellow lines have little meaning in this game of chicken.


Since we have been here we have heard 3 motorcycle accidents. The lush foliage prevents us from witnessing the carnage directly; but the sound of a motorcycle skidding sideways on pavement followed by much screaming and yelling is unmistakeable. The young American couple staying in the second apartment came home a few days ago with a bad case of road rash after an accident with another scooter turning in front of them.

1,2,3

De Anne is a connoisseur of beaches. She has, just this week, changed her rankings. Kite beach here in Cabarette is now her number one beach with Longboat Key second, and Clearwater FL at number three.


Kite beach is a wild, natural beach that changes daily. On every walk different ancient reef areas are exposed - then covered by sand the next day. Waves big enough to knock you down roll ashore, but travel a half mile around a point and wade in the gentle surf. For entertainment the kite boarders are the daily show.


During the weekdays there may be no one within a 1000 yards of you. Weekends are more crowded, relatively speaking, with folks scattered every 100 yards or so. The occasional stray dog plays in the surf and a couple have joined us for a stroll. I suspect it is because a dog needs to stand next to a human before shaking off the water. Regularly, a small herd of horses will gallop by being exercised by their owner. Horses without tackle are very quiet in the sand. I heard a snort behind me yesterday, turned and saw the herd just a dozen yards behind me bearing down. It was quite a moment as they ran between me and De Anne.

Missed a beach

We returned to Sosua - for lunch, a little shopping, and to see a beach we missed.

This time when we got to town we took a turn down a small street we had missed on our last trip. It was lined with many tiny shops and every shopkeeper greeted us in english and invited us in. The common refrain: "Everything two for one today!".


Another couple blocks and we were walking down a shady sand lane with trees, then beach to our right and more tiny shops, and bars to our left. Again, the unflaggingly friendly Dominicans tried their best to entice us into their shops.


We decided to walk back along the beach. We discovered the beach chairs were the property of yet many more Dominicans. A man would ask if we wanted chairs in the shade, some were even 2 for 1. The next guy about 10 feet down the beach having just heard our previous exchange, would offer his beach chairs. I have perfected the fine art of the slightly extended arm and downward palm back and forth. Other than everyone wanting to make sure I didn't have any loose pesos in need of spending it was an idyllic setting barely done justice by my poor little camera. Maybe Santa will get us a new one before our next trip.


After a little street wandering we decided on Britianna Pub for lunch. The owner chatted with us after lunch and divulged that the jitney ride fare should be 25 pesos per person. He said "Don't ask, just hand over 50 pesos for both of you and get on". We did and he was right. It's almost embarassing to get a 5 mile ride for 63 cents apeice.

Traffic

Allow me to preface my remarks on traffic by noting I have experience with Atlanta and Houston traffic. Both these cities have their own special place in traffic hell.

While those aformentioned cities have their own nighmares, the experiences are quantifiable once you learn the unwritten rules. As an example: in Atlanta once your light turns green you must wait a couple seconds for the last cars to zoom the intersection. This is based on the principle that if you have seen the light green then you may go through regardless of the color when you are in the intersection. In Houston, on the 16 lane highway, if there is a gap in traffic you will switch lanes to close it while your counterpart 2 lanes over is making his move on the same spot. Blinkers are optional.

The key rule in the Dominican Republic is that there are no rules. One example: On a two lane road (no shoulders) our jitney was passing a slow moving truck. While we were passing the truck an SUV was passing us. It was a clinched derriere moment!

Motorcycles have even more latitude. When crossing the street at a stoplight the cars will stop; however, not the motorcycles. The scooters spew forth from around and between the stopped cars so that the only safe place, once you leave the curb, is directly in front of a car grill. This safety is illusionary because when the light changes the car is going to leap into race track mode. You bob and weave toward the opposite side of the street feeling the adrenal high of cheating death, then the letdown of was the street crossing worth it?

I estimate 25% of the population owns a motorcycle and is actively engaged in providing transportation to the other 75%. It is not unusual to see 3 people on one and I have seen several with 4 aboard. De Anne took one into town on our first day, but I have put my foot down on that. None of these motorcycles are over 150 cc and under 20 years old. I am permitted to forbid her to do dangerous things, but only about once a year.

Tropical Octoberfest

The folks renting us the apartment, Mike and Marisol, asked us to join them for the Octoberfest celebration at a marina/casino in Puerto Plata, a town on the coast about 25 miles northeast of Caberette.

After drinking the prerequsite german beer I switched to my old favorite - gin and tonic. While looking over the menu my eye caught a waitress walking by with a plate of sauerkraut topped with an enormous pig knuckle. That settled matters, I had to have one. It was cooked to perfection with melt-in-your-mouth pork underneath the real delicacy, crunchy skin, impervious to a knife, that had to be broken by hand .

This establishment is owned by Germans and there was a large contingency of German patrons who were quite easy to detect when breaking into song and swaying to the music.

Mike and Marisol
The first beer
De Anne in the conga line (behind the red dress)

Sosua

Expanding our horizons we set off this morning for the town of Sosua (so sue ah). We flagged down a jitney bus, or rather he spotted us walking out the gate of the neighborhood and screeched to a stop, honking the whole time. We agreed to 100 pesos each and joined the other dozen folks in the minivan. Only later did I find we paid double the going rate, or perhaps the "gringo" rate.
Selling fresh fish on the street corner:

Sosua beach:


After strolling the streets, visiting the beach, and buying a couple used paperbacks, I got a hair cut (250 pesos - $6.53) then we splurged on lunch at one of the dozens of restaurants in this tourist town.

We shopped at the supermarket, which is much nicer the the one in Caberette (cab a ret tay). Bags in hand we waited on the street less than a minute before a jitney pulled over for us. Once in we asked the price and he told us $10 dollars. I vehemently said no and said to let us out. He then said 50 pesos apiece. That's how fast the price dropped from $10 to $2.60. His minivan was missing the side door so I got a couple pictures during the ride home.
Through the missing door:
In America you seldom see a moped with a refrigerator:

Utilities

The utilities in the Dominican Republic are a bit different than the US. Our stove is gas, but fed from a tank under the counter. The set up is similar to when we lived on the boat.

Electric service is about 10-12 hours per day but the times available are irregular. Our host, Mike, has a huge set of batteries to provide power when the electrical grid is off. The refrigerator, lights, and TV all work, but De Anne must time her hot shower to the power. The electric hot water heater only works when the grid is on. There is a on/off switch with a power light for the water heater in the bathroom.

The problem is political not a lack of capacity. There is a large squatters settlement behind the neighborhood that illegally taps the power lines. No one wants the headache of constantly policing the lines or depriving the poor folks of some electric power, but randomly shutting it down reminds them it is not a right to have free power.

We have running water at the tap, but don't drink it! Everyone here drinks and cooks with bottle water. De Anne carried a couple gallons home from the grocery store, but that got old very fast. We met Johnnie and he delivered a 5 gallon bottle. The deposit on our first jug was 110 pesos and the water is 40 pesos. A week's supply of water costs us $1.04.

Mike has a satellite dish so we watched Monday Night football on ESPN and get NYC news.
From our balcony looking down the street:

See the different patch of blue between the trees? That's the Atlantic:

Wash day

It's not all lounging on the beach, listening to the surf with a long neck Presidente in hand. There are still a few chores to do. Today was wash day.


The washing machine is in the gazebo. To use it, simply pile in some clothes, a little soap, then turn on the garden hose and fill. Once the clothes are clean - using the hose again - a couple rinses then into the spinner on the right side of the machine. The drain hose is led to the yard where the water does double duty watering the plants.


The final step is one few Americans will recognize, hanging the damp clothes on a line with clothes pins. Younger readers may want to study the picture below for proper technique.

New friends

One of the best parts of traveling is meeting folks you would never otherwise know.

Neighbors down the street, Bruce and Kelly from Vancouver Canada invited us over Thursday evening. In addition to a great meal and an entertaining evening they aquainted us with some of the differences in Dominican life.



We had a great night out Friday night. Johnnie, our new Dominican friend, recommended the beach bar we pass every day at the beach access point. Yesterday a new ex-pat friend, Tom - told us the owner was a very good chef and we could not go wrong eating there. Both were right. For the evening, dinner and drinks totaled 550 pesos, or the princely sum of $14.41 in US dollars.



This afternoon we watched the kiteboarders on the beach, then on the way home met up with Bruce and Kelly at the beach bar.

What did you do today?

We went to the beach!

De Anne played in the waves until a large wave summersaulted her. I was watching and for a brief moment all that showed was 2 legs pointed straight up in the foam. This wave also added, at no extra cost, a double wardrobe malfunction. After her escape she vowed to wear the one piece bathing suit next time. It was interesting that 2 pieces of clothing, so close together, would move in completely opposite directions.

She joined me under the thatched cabana after that:

Secure

To those of you who questioned our choice of the Dominican Republic as a destination, please note we are now more secure than any other time in our lives.

The house is in a gated community (the gatekeeper has a 12 gauge pump shotgun), with a roving night guard (ditto the 12 gauge). Our windows, door, and porch are wrought-ironed covered. The house is walled and topped with razor wire. Bruno, the giant rotweiller is on duty, and backed up by a security guard (another 12 gauge) in the yard 24/7.

Of course, De Anne still roams the streets alone sometimes. I just can't stop her.

You can see our porch through the trees


Our apartment from the street


De Anne in the pool


One of the house guards

October home

Our Dominican Republic home for October is a 1 bedroom/1 bath apartment over the garage of a very nice home in a gated community. We are just a block from the beach and our 2nd floor apartment puts us above most of the flora so the cooling ocean breezes pass through the apartment.

The resident guard dog is the biggest rotweiller I have ever seen.


A man exercising his horses on the beach.

In the DR

Two flights, two taxis, and one bus later we have arrived on the Atlantic shore of the Dominican Republic.

I have a cold, so De Anne will be striking out this morning solo for provisions. In light of her loss of her pack animal husband I have authorized her to spend the seventy cents on a cab ride.

More to come........