LADIES ONLY! And Now A Few Words From Meemselle....because one word is never enough

[Meemselle]

A new one, ladies. And this time, Dominican-centric. Enjoix!

https://meemselle.wordpress.com/

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Take Me For A Ride In Your Gua-Gua
Posted on January 16, 2019 by meemselle


While the concept of the gua-gua is not unique to the Dominican Republic, there are characteristics that imprint this widely-used and idiosyncratic means of public transportation with a distinctly Dominican twist.

The gua-gua, for the uninitiated, is a large van, typically with 3-4 rows of seats, that functions as a sort of privately run local bus. The route that goes through Sosúa runs from Puerto Plata to Rio San Juan. Fares are very inexpensive: the rate from Sosúa to Cabarete is 30 pesos, about 59 cents US. You stand on the side of the street, and when you see one coming, you point your index finger to the ground a couple of times and they come to a rather rolling stop. The side door slides open and the cobrador (a conductor of sorts) lets you in and tells you where to sit.

Telling you where to sit is a very important job, as gua-guas, in order to make as much money as possible (which, do admit, is not easy at 30 pesos a pop) need to extract every last scrap of space. In a bench seat that comfortably sits four, you may find yourself one of six. There is also a heavy cardboard thing that they slide in so that the space between a bench seat and a single seat is converted into an extra seat. The front seat with the driver may include up to four people. Every space is utilized as a place to park your assets, including the ledge behind the front seats. We’re talking as many as 26 people crammed into a vehicle meant for 12. I was once in the very back row of seats on a gua-gua that was so crowded that the cobrador had to come around and haul us over the seat and out the back door. Let’s just say I was grateful not to be wearing a short skirt.

Only once have I seen a gua-gua not stop because it was too full.

Air-conditioning is typically one small window. Or if you have a kind cobrador, he might leave the side door open a bit.

When I first came to live here, I told myself I was going to maintain a modicum of creature-comfort integrity and I would never take a gua-gua. However, once I figured out how much less expensive they are over taxis—and once I got over myself a little bit—I have become a gua-gua devotee.

I took a gua-gua to Cabarete yesterday, and I was musing to myself that I have never been directed to the front seat. Maybe it’s reserved only for Dominicans.

And then lo and behold, I was directed to the front seat. I felt this to be confirmation of my status as a Dominicana-In-Training.

Not only was I in the front seat, Darlinos, I was in the front seat with only one other person besides the driver.

This was a major score.

In carritos, regular smallish sedans that are a slightly more luxurious ride, you can pay for the two seats in the front so you’re not smushed. I don’t think you can do this on a gua-gua. Let’s just say I wouldn’t risk the social censure of asking for this privilege.

I had a window. I could see the road. And I could breathe in and out and my arms rested comfortably in my lap, as opposed to typical riding posture of hoisting up the shoulders and scrunching the arms in between my legs, while clutching my bag and simultaneously attempting to maneuver a handkerchief to mop the sweat trick trickling from my brow down to the poitrine.

A Few Words about Dominicans and gua-guas: it’s considered polite to wish everyone buen día, more likely contracted to just buenas, and everyone on the gua-gua responds buenas, so that it sounds like a traveling 12-step meeting.

The other thing to note—and this is a mercy—Dominicans don’t smell. Despite being packed like sardines into a non-air conditioned space in 80+ heat, they don’t even appear to sweat. In fact, the only smelly people I have ever encountered in my gua-gua adventures have been gringos.

So I’m chalking yesterday’s gua-gua ride up as a major step in my status as a Dominican. I know I’m investing this with far more significance than it truly merits, but such small daily victories are few and far between, so celebrate with me. And when you come to visit, I will take you for a gua-gua ride!

 

[Chirimoya]

Definitely earns you a few aplatanation points!

 

[Aguaita29]

You can pay for the front seats at a guagua too if you want to be more comfy. I have a friend who often takes her dog to vet's appointments in a guagua, and she pays an extra seat so that they can be at the front alone.

 

[Meemselle]

You can pay for the front seats at a guagua too if you want to be more comfy. I have a friend who often takes her dog to vet's appointments in a guagua, and she pays an extra seat so that they can be at the front alone.

Since when do they let dogs on gua-guas? They won't even stop for me when I have my dog. Chickens: yes. But dogs: no. "

 

[LindseyKaufman]

Delightful read. Thanks.

Lindsey

 

[Meemselle]

A new one: Dominican-centric!

https://meemselle.wordpress.com/
013119

Steps

We are not talking about movies, i.e., Hitchcock's masterpiece, "The 39 Steps."

We are not talking about recovery, i.e., the Twelve Steps.

Au contraire, Gentle Readers: we are talking about actual physical steps. Steps in the Dominican Republic. Like so much else in this country, they follow no rhyme nor reason, and are subject to a certain---shall we say---originality that Dominicans bring to so much of the physical infrastructure.

I was in Santiago a couple of years ago, delivering papers to an attorney. I got out of taxi, instructing him to wait. The office was in a pretty nice part of Santiago, lots of businesses at street-level and fairly posh offices above. Clutching my manila envelope of legal papers, I approached the curb.

When I say I "approached" the curb, I choose the word because the curb was a good 2 feet high. There was no sloping ramp or a side with shallower steps allowing easier access. I stood there and felt like an ant at the bottom of the Matterhorn. I believe I may have been wearing a narrow-ish skirt, but it wasn't even fashion that prohibited me from making that step. It seemed entirely possible that the air was thinner up there.

I stood in the street, weighing my options. I didn't get too much option-weighing time, as several Dominican men made a beeline for me, as they tend to do when encountering a damsel in distress. Especially a gringa one with red hair in a narrow skirt.

Before I could say the proverbial "Jack Robinson," there were hands on my ass and hands grabbing my wrists, and I was hoisted up onto the sidewalk. As this was an act of civic responsibility, the hands on my ass were respectful. There are levels of ass-touching here, and this was definitely in the category of helpful ass-grabbing. When you live here for a while, you learn to tell the difference.

Recently, I visited a clinic in Puerto Plata. My physician's office is on the fourth floor. Normally, I am a stair-taker, as I figure it's free cardio, and if my knee is up to it, then I'm all for it.

Let me just say this: the stairs in this clinic had to have been planned this way, because there is no way this could happen by accident. Perhaps it's to keep the ill and infirm segregated to the elevator, while the stairs are some kind of amusing exercise to keep the rest of us on our toes, as it were.

Why do I say that? I have a Few Words about that, and I will share them with you right now. I say that because EVERY SINGLE STAIR is a different height. Some are as shallow as 3 inches. Some are as steep as 14 inches. A few are at what is a comfortable stair height of about 8 inches. But just a few. And not sequentially. I must say, it's a pretty good workout and it demands a great deal of concentration. Which may or may not be a good thing. I personally like my stairs predictable.

The grade-A, number one winner for psychotic stairs, however, has to go to the wooden ones from the Waterfront restaurant to Playa Alicia. These follow the schizoid template, but have the additional zing of being made out of wood that is treated with some kind of resin, so there's the sensory input of the smell, and just when you thought it couldn't get better, some of the steps are of a different depth, necessitating planting your foot sideways. AND, the back of the stairs is open, so you can see the sand below, which further discombobulates your sensory perception. And the handrail has splinters.

This is one of the reasons I seldom go to Playa Alicia.

Yes, I know there are other steps, the ones coming down from the Jewish Colony Park. But they are basically a public urinal. Which is another possible blog topic...

The Dominican Republic, in many ways, is a very easy, laid-back country. The weather is always good, the skies are blue, the ocean is warm, the beer is cold. The Dominican Republic, in many other ways, is an absolutely maddening place, where the water is undrinkable, the roads are horrific, the electricity is sketchy, the concept of customer service does not exist, and I'm willing to bet: building codes (if there are any) are not enforced.

So just remember you heard it from me: watch your step!

 

[Matilda]

You ain't seen nothing yet. Went to husband's graduation, held in the basket ball arena in the Mao Olympic stadium. (I doubt you knew the Olympics had been held in Mao). The seats were concrete benches on steps. Each step was around 3 feet down or up. I have no idea how the Dominican ladies in their 8 inch heels manage to navigate them. I had on flat shoes and literally crawled down each step. Next day in the village, all of those who went to the ceremony were moving very slowly due to severe butt and leg pain from navigating those steps.

Matilda

 

[Jelly]

Okay...can we go back to the fact that there is something called the Olympic Stadium in Mao? Come on ladies...fill a gal in!

 

[Matilda]

Okay...can we go back to the fact that there is something called the Olympic Stadium in Mao? Come on ladies...fill a gal in!

Here is a bit about it here. Proof!!
https://centroleon.org.do/cl/noticias-cl/1810-expo-¡nos-vemos-en-mao

Matilda

 

[Meemselle]

A Few new Words for Monday. Enjoix!
https://wordpress.com/post/meemselle.wordpress.com/2588
021119

Dominican Health Care: Revisited

For reasons not to be discussed here, Darlinos, I have had the opportunity to revisit the Dominican health care system. I use the word “system” in with arched brows, because the definition of the word is “a set of things working together as parts of a mechanism or an interconnecting network; a complex whole.”

I don’t think I am being hyperbolic when I submit to you, Gentle Readers, that Dominican health care does not “work together as parts of….an interconnecting network.”

The most hair-tearing thing is the concept of “the appointment.” You make an appointment for say, 11 a.m. You arrive at the doctor’s office at 10.30/10.45 like a good little First Worlder, and lo and behold, there are 5 people ahead of you, all scheduled for 11 o’clock and the doctor has not yet arrived in the office. If I ever go postal and I make the newspapers for spitting and screaming and flailing about, I guarantee it will be because of an “appointment.”

Another bamboozling feature is the receptionist/secretary who guards the office of the physician like a veritable Cerberus. She accomplishes this in skin-tight jeans with artful shredding along the thighs, a shirt with buttons that scream at high tension over her generous bosom, cheap plastic Barbie shoes with skyscraper heels, and nails and hair for days, while never lifting her eyes from her phone.

The thing that has always puzzled me is why all those receptionist/secretaries do absolutely zero nada nothing and know absolutely zero nada nothing. As far as I can tell, the one thing for which they will reluctantly tear themselves away from their phones is to write your name in a notebook, invariably with My Little Pony or Elsa from “Frozen” on the cover. And that’s it.

And then I realized why. The reason is that they are given nothing to do. The doctors all answer their own cell phones (including during examinations) and appointments scheduled by phone don’t matter anyway so why write it down. On a computer scheduling page. Or in a damn day-planner.

In the US—and I venture to guess in most of the First World—you are instructed to get there early so that you can fill out your intake form. And while you’re doing that, the secretary/receptionist babes are processing your insurance. So that in the 15 minutes you spend doing this, your doctor has had access to your chart and you are called in ON TIME for your appointment.

Note those two words: On. And Time. On. Time.

Now forget them.

But then, in an uncharacteristic attempt to be kind, I imagine medical practices here can’t count on patients to do their own intake forms, because of illiteracy. UNESCO says 93.7% of Dominicans are literate, but that absolutely cannot be true. Even the ones who are functionally literate are about as literate as a third-grader. In my experience, limited though it may be, it’s just not possible that almost 94% of this country’s population can read, write, and do simple computations. Computations, maybe, as Dominicans are relentless and ruthless capitalists. But the reading and writing part: I’m not buying 93.7%. Unless you’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn in which I might be interested.

So it is the doctors who do the intake forms/medical history. This seems like a tremendous waste of time and resources. To me. But maybe they do actual medical/scientific/doctory stuff at home, and that’s why they stroll into their offices slightly before lunch. And then leave at noon on the dot to take lunch, returning some time in the general vicinity of 3 p.m.

And what is with doctors never washing their hands before they touch you? I mean, I don’t know where their hands have been, and in any case, they’ve touched stuff in their offices, which have been filled with sick people and the families of sick people day after day after day. Meanwhile, the maid is mopping the floors every five minutes while the waiting room is filled with people and she’s using one of those disgusting string mops. Most often, she is the only one wearing gloves.

The secretary/receptionists, to give credit where credit is due, are very good at collecting money for services rendered. I believe this is where the spike heels come in, as they can double as a weapon for financially recalcitrant clients.

This is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I have more appointments looming in the weeks ahead, Darlinos, and I will be sure to share my Few Words with you!

 

[Matilda]

Have just had on the whole excellent experience with Dominican hospital and doctor - a handsome neuro surgeon who wanted to practise his English on me. I had no objection and having been admitted around 10 am he was talking to me late pm trying to say that at 7 pm I would be allowed to drink something - via oral, but nothing red in case I threw up and they confused it for blood. What he actually said in English was "at 7pm I want you to give it to me orally." I explained that I really would prefer to drink apple juice than give him a bl** job. Poor love will never speak English again.
Four days later I return to have stitches in head out. No appointment. Go to his office and secretary says he is operating. Ten minutes later it appears he miraculously finishes brain surgery and is ready to see me downstairs. Secretary says have to pay RD$1,500 as he is going to carry out procedures on me and not simply esnip the stitches. Ask for receipt from secretary who only takes cash! No receipts for these particular procedures she says. Go downstairs - esnip esnip not one procedure. He is still cute though! Even if secretary a robbing bit**.

Matilda

 

[mountainannie]

You ain't seen nothing yet. Went to husband's graduation, held in the basket ball arena in the Mao Olympic stadium. (I doubt you knew the Olympics had been held in Mao). The seats were concrete benches on steps. Each step was around 3 feet down or up. I have no idea how the Dominican ladies in their 8 inch heels manage to navigate them. I had on flat shoes and literally crawled down each step. Next day in the village, all of those who went to the ceremony were moving very slowly due to severe butt and leg pain from navigating those steps.

Matilda

The ability of Dominican ladies and stilettos is simply amazing. The sidewalks in Gazcue looked like a bomb had been dropped on them. There were some potholes that a goat would fit into. The pavements were all heaving from the roots of the giant old ficus trees along Independencia. Yet - There They Were. Perched on those heels - And even in offices - albeit not quite stilettos - but still - Plus, of course, they wear these polyester pants suits in the Capital and do NOT appear to sweat nor do they split the seams on their backsides which is certainly a miracle seeing how tight those pants are.

Certainly there are many things to be learned about The Dominican Woman...

(as in how does she find the money or time to spend so much of both on her HAIR?)

 

[Chirimoya]

I could have said this, but not nearly as eloquently.

Just to add, if his or her supreme eminence the doctor for some reason can't see patients that day, the concept of phoning the patients on the list to inform them is completely alien to la secretaria. I have to travel to SD from the east coast to see a particular specialist - I phone a couple of days in advance to make sure he is seeing patients that day and the secretary puts my name on the list. Because of the timings I sometimes have to stay overnight, so being told upon arrival that he is not seeing patients that day after I've paid for travel and accommodation and taken one or two days off work is not what I want to hear.

For those of us who have grown up with health systems that include notifying patients that their test results are ready for collection - especially when the results show they need urgent treatment - you quickly learn that this is completely up to you.

 

[Meemselle]

I feel your pain!

 

[Meemselle]

Wearing the polyester pantsuits and/or thick black tights are a status symbol, because it telegraphs that you work in an office with air conditioning!

 

[Meemselle]

A Few new Words

Humps, Bumps, and Lumps

https://meemselle.wordpress.com/
032619

Darlinos, I have been “in the field,” doing critical and relevant research, in order to enrich these Few Words, solely for your reading pleasure. I know there has been a long gap between entries, but geez. Even Meemselle gets to float around aimlessly for a bit. It’s not as if the sun shines every day and it’s in the mid-80s, and there’s a pool where I live and two beaches five minutes away…..oh, wait.

As the 2018-2019 humpback season comes to an end, let’s just give a shout out to these particular ballenas. Every year from about January to mid-March, approximately 2,000 humpback whales (Megaptera novaeangliae) come to Samaná Bay and the Silver Bank to mate and reproduce. Samaná is in the northeast of the island, and when you come to visit me—whale-watching season or not—it’s a beautiful peninsula and a charming town, well worth the jolly bus ride to get there. Up until fairly recently, scientists thought that only 85% of the humpbacks of the Atlantic were born in Dominican waters; this percentage has been revised, and those wicked smart cetologists now believe that all the Atlantic humps come here for the winter. The original snowbirds.

I didn’t go on a whale watch this year. I went two years in a row, and last year’s trip was so eventful, what with losing my keys and then running out of gas and all (see blog entries “Keys and Caverns 3-12-17” and “Chapter Two: Retrieval 3-14-17” for the full story). I decided a three-peat was not required.

It’s a pretty amazing experience. The whales are so big, and the jumps are truly spectacular. The other plus, if your only whale-watching experience is in the North Atlantic, is that you don’t freeze your assets off for the entire trip.

Bumps are another very special facet of life in the 2.5 World. Driving here, or hell, even crossing the street here, is a heart-in-your-throat kind of experience. I believe I read somewhere that less than 40% of the vehicle operators on the roads actually hold a license to drive. Cogitate on that for just a second. It’s like thousands of miles of asphalt, swarming with vehicles of every type, from motor scooters to tractor trailers, being piloted by five-year olds. Drunk five-year olds, at that.

Rules of the road (if there are any) are merely a suggestion. This includes stop signs, designated lanes, passing/no passing, etc., etc. Courtesies such as the use of turn signals and dipping your high beams for oncoming traffic are anomalies. Speed limits, if they are posted, I do purely believe are painted with a substance invisible to the Dominican eye.

So apparently the only system that prevents the entire island from spinning into the stratosphere due to all the vehicular velocity is bumps.

That’s right.

Bumps.

As in speed bumps. Not a bad idea, in theory. The only leeeeeeetle issue with the bumps is that a.) there are never signs warning “speed bump ahead;” b.) they are not uniform in height; and c.) they are (mostly) not painted yellow (or something. I don’t care: pink would be nice). And they are not just restricted to busy downtown areas. Oh no. That would be way too organized. Bumps can just pop up in east-cupcake-nowhere.

The chief virtue of bumps seems to be that you will hit them at a good 45-70 mph, thereby sending all passengers to hit the roof of the car, pulling about 2g’s, and causing the undercarriage to part company with the rest of the vehicle.

That will slow you down.

The other thing observed during this hiatus is this thing called lumps.

Lumps are everywhere. There are lumps in the salt shaker, even though you fill the damn thing half full of rice. There are lumps in the sugar, despite the pieces of chalk you have carefully deposited therein. (Be mindful of the chalk. It’s not good on grapefruit.) There are lumps in mashed potatoes, which is a good thing, as then you are assured they are not instant. There can be lumps in the sand at the beach, which you will wish to avoid as they may disguise dog poop.

And then there are the lumps of a human sort. These can be encountered, dressed in very minimal bits of clothing that barely cover vast expanses of sunburned skin, at nearly every intersection, store, bar, and/or restaurant in this Dusty Whore Town I Call Home. They seem to be a First World species and they are seasonal. They may be related to similar lumps that walk the sidewalks of New York, four abreast, at the pace of Galápagos turtles. But those lumps tend to clothe themselves more thoroughly, favoring polyester in floral pastel hues.

So there you have it: humps, bumps, and lumps. Always out there observing and noting, just for you, Gentle Readers.

 

[Matilda]

I could be wrong but I don't think you need permission for what you call speed bumps. We British call them sleeping policemen and the Dominican Spanish is similar - policia acostada - more lying down policemen. Anyway, they always appear where there is a school, in fact, the school near us has gone overboard and has four of them around 10 meters apart, and I know of several people who had their houses for sale and built a sleeping policeman in front of their house to make people slow so they could look at the for sale sign. What I find interesting is that for some reason, Dominicans love overtaking over sleeping policeman which has a habit of causing chaos for the overtaking car as it can't speed up as it is humping, to stop being hit by an oncoming vehicle.

Matilda

 

[AlterEgo]

They’re called speed bumps in the USA

We have several on our road in DR. Since the motos try to go around them, someone has placed small boulders along the sides.

Almost as bad are the opposite.......no clue what they’re called....... the depressions in the road that you have to go over very slowly

 

[Meemselle]

Those dips are the worst! I nearly lost the front end of a rental car I was driving once.

 

[Meemselle]

I could be wrong but I don't think you need permission for what you call speed bumps. We British call them sleeping policemen and the Dominican Spanish is similar - policia acostada - more lying down policemen.

No wonder I was scratching my head over the directions when I came to see you. I was looking for an actual policeman. Asleep. Jajaja!