I went to the DR for two months, with the intention of living there as long as I could. I succeeded
The good was great...the bad was bad...not much in-between. The mosquitos weren't that bad at first..the lack of infrastructure really got on my nerves...the poverty got to me as well...the constant screwing of gringos got old...as did the constant barrage of people insisting on selling me everything in the store NOW "at a good price just for you friend..." and having a cockroach the size of a mouse crawl out of my pantleg at work forver changed how I get dressed in the morning.
The things that really got to me...were the "almost hurricane" and the earthquake. The difference between the reaction of the US and the DR in reference to the hurricane was night and day...when we were "in" the strike zone, nobody in the DR batted an eyelash...parts of the US that were near the strike zone evacuated and got ready for the worse at the recommendation of government officials. Summary? As long as the presidential palace or sugarcane fields are not threatened, the government just doesn't care.
The earthquake...the lack of data on the US Geological survery after the first 24 hours of seismic activity sums it up...Again, it seems the government is going out of its way to hide the quake from the outside world in an effort to protect the dismal tourist traffic on the North Coast.
The DR has the potential to be a beautiful country...but it's current and projected economic climate indicate the people will continue to destroy it; but it seems they have little choice. The government has succeeded in lining the pockets of a precious few at the expense of the general public...and nobody there is presented with any choice other than survival.
In the DR, even with a good deal of money and a job, I was surviving. Sure, there were beaches and nice weather, some cheap restaurants and interesting trinkets to buy. The food came with a price tag not mentioned on the menu...food poisoning at most local restaurants. The stench of sewage and exhaust fumes overpowered my senses...the never ending noise of the conchos, blaring horns and car alarms made it impossible to sleep past 7:00...and if I did, I could be sure a swarm of mosquitos or a stomach cramp would do the trick.
I personally would rather pay $50 for a nice meal than $10 for a peice of tough beef in the DR...if that meant I wouldn't spend the following hours or days trotting to the bathroom...or having a stomach as an alarm clock.
There are beautiful and unique things to see and do...and there are some definite opportunities to make money in the DR if you play your cards right...if I choose to pursue those venues, they will take place in the virtual world, with a weekend trip to the DR here and there. There is nothing like dinner and dancing on the beach in Cabarete.
Yes, it's cheap to survive...expensive to live. The beach can be beautiful, if you can look past the tires, plastic bottles and tons of other junk on the ocean floor as you swim out to the reefs. You can go for a nice relaxing walk if you can shut out the advances of the Putas or the desperate attempts to sell you ANYTHING you do or don't need while ignoring the wafting stench from the sewage treatment plant and Productos de Sosua.
So, 2 months, $5,000 and 15 pounds later I decided to return home. I don't dodge potholes with my car like I'm in a video game...I don't hear gunshots at night...the only people asking for my soul are the Jehova's & Mormons at my door...I don't feel like I'm being screwed at every turn...I don't feel like I'm surrounded by people who are running from something...or running to a Puta...I can walk down the street in silence without being perceived as being rude, and I can eat without scheduling bathroom breaks on my calendar. Many similar things happen here, but they are not in the open, in my face. That's how I prefer it.
While I don't have a beach in Wisconsin and it's colder than the president's heart in this frozen tundra, I hear Florida is rather nice this time of year. The best thing the DR did for me? It made me realize that I've been spending too long looking to other countries for happiness. I've got it pretty damn good right here in the US...and it's nice to realize that well before 30.
I do recommend that those interested give it a try...there's something strangely intruiging and nice about the experience as a whole...once you start looking BACK on it. I show off my video tapes to friends and family that cannot believe I survived more than a week...and it makes me proud to say "I did it..."
The good was great...the bad was bad...not much in-between. The mosquitos weren't that bad at first..the lack of infrastructure really got on my nerves...the poverty got to me as well...the constant screwing of gringos got old...as did the constant barrage of people insisting on selling me everything in the store NOW "at a good price just for you friend..." and having a cockroach the size of a mouse crawl out of my pantleg at work forver changed how I get dressed in the morning.
The things that really got to me...were the "almost hurricane" and the earthquake. The difference between the reaction of the US and the DR in reference to the hurricane was night and day...when we were "in" the strike zone, nobody in the DR batted an eyelash...parts of the US that were near the strike zone evacuated and got ready for the worse at the recommendation of government officials. Summary? As long as the presidential palace or sugarcane fields are not threatened, the government just doesn't care.
The earthquake...the lack of data on the US Geological survery after the first 24 hours of seismic activity sums it up...Again, it seems the government is going out of its way to hide the quake from the outside world in an effort to protect the dismal tourist traffic on the North Coast.
The DR has the potential to be a beautiful country...but it's current and projected economic climate indicate the people will continue to destroy it; but it seems they have little choice. The government has succeeded in lining the pockets of a precious few at the expense of the general public...and nobody there is presented with any choice other than survival.
In the DR, even with a good deal of money and a job, I was surviving. Sure, there were beaches and nice weather, some cheap restaurants and interesting trinkets to buy. The food came with a price tag not mentioned on the menu...food poisoning at most local restaurants. The stench of sewage and exhaust fumes overpowered my senses...the never ending noise of the conchos, blaring horns and car alarms made it impossible to sleep past 7:00...and if I did, I could be sure a swarm of mosquitos or a stomach cramp would do the trick.
I personally would rather pay $50 for a nice meal than $10 for a peice of tough beef in the DR...if that meant I wouldn't spend the following hours or days trotting to the bathroom...or having a stomach as an alarm clock.
There are beautiful and unique things to see and do...and there are some definite opportunities to make money in the DR if you play your cards right...if I choose to pursue those venues, they will take place in the virtual world, with a weekend trip to the DR here and there. There is nothing like dinner and dancing on the beach in Cabarete.
Yes, it's cheap to survive...expensive to live. The beach can be beautiful, if you can look past the tires, plastic bottles and tons of other junk on the ocean floor as you swim out to the reefs. You can go for a nice relaxing walk if you can shut out the advances of the Putas or the desperate attempts to sell you ANYTHING you do or don't need while ignoring the wafting stench from the sewage treatment plant and Productos de Sosua.
So, 2 months, $5,000 and 15 pounds later I decided to return home. I don't dodge potholes with my car like I'm in a video game...I don't hear gunshots at night...the only people asking for my soul are the Jehova's & Mormons at my door...I don't feel like I'm being screwed at every turn...I don't feel like I'm surrounded by people who are running from something...or running to a Puta...I can walk down the street in silence without being perceived as being rude, and I can eat without scheduling bathroom breaks on my calendar. Many similar things happen here, but they are not in the open, in my face. That's how I prefer it.
While I don't have a beach in Wisconsin and it's colder than the president's heart in this frozen tundra, I hear Florida is rather nice this time of year. The best thing the DR did for me? It made me realize that I've been spending too long looking to other countries for happiness. I've got it pretty damn good right here in the US...and it's nice to realize that well before 30.
I do recommend that those interested give it a try...there's something strangely intruiging and nice about the experience as a whole...once you start looking BACK on it. I show off my video tapes to friends and family that cannot believe I survived more than a week...and it makes me proud to say "I did it..."