We didn't see the need to write a Trip Report this time because our stay in April was strictly getting our newly purchased villa furnished, etc. After a week of working on the house, we were on our way to a nice restaurant on our last night in DR. The following story is the sole purpose of this thread and all other things we accomplished/enjoyed during that week are reduced to meaningless drivel. This story also reinforces the primary reason we chose the DR ? the culture.
For all of you living in the DR, you will be bored with this story; but this was just our second experience at a local?s house. After seeing general living conditions of many Dominicans, we believe these two experiences have not been with dirt-poor locals ? but maybe lower-middleclass?
On our way to dinner, we noticed the office secretary of our community was standing at the road, waiting for a publico. Not being in any hurry, my husband asked if she wanted us to take her home. She accepted and we assumed she lived around Sosua. After driving to almost Puerta Plata, she finally told us to turn (she speaks a little english).
We drove down this dirt road and came upon a village of maybe 200 dominican-type houses: tiny clapboard houses, some painted. We continued block after block, not seeing any other cars, and watched people coming out of their houses observing us. We were in awe at the site of all of these little houses - one right after another - with many people sitting on miniature porches or walking down the narrow muddy road. We were in the midst of poverty, with the "white man's world" seeming to be 10000 miles behind us. The secretary motioned us to stop. We were at a dead-end street. She pointed to her house. She asked us to come in.
My husband claims I was out the door before she even finished her sentence - I don't remember. I remember this strange emotion overwhelming me, as I stepped up to the tiny porch. Her mother and father were sitting in chairs. She introduced us and asked us to come inside. I stood there dumbfounded, speechless, and on the verge of tears (so was my macho husband). There in this tiny room - no wider than 8 feet and about 20 feet long was a living room, family room, and dining room. The furniture was immaculate; there wasn't a speck of dust on the tables, and the swags hanging on the window (actually a square hole in the wall) were clean and pressed. The concrete floor was painted bright blue. She asked us to sit down. The "living room" consisted of a Victorian love seat, 2 chairs, and coffee table. It was such tight quarters, that all 4 pieces touched each other. We moved the coffee table and sat down. Two feet past this living room was the "family room" which consisted of 4 rocking chairs with brightly colored seat pads. These chairs surrounded a color TV on a bookshelf. Two feet beyond was the dining table with a china cabinet.
She offered us a drink and we, of course, accepted. We watched her go to the china cabinet and get two wine glasses. She disappeared in the kitchen, which, from my seat, looked like a covered porch with no walls. (I was afraid it would be rude if I got up and looked).
While waiting for her, I noticed a ceramic rabbit on the TV shelf. I couldn?t believe it. I had thrown that rabbit out the day before, because I was getting rid of the previous owner?s furnishings. I looked at my husband ? he appeared ?choked up?.
She finally came from the kitchen with a large bottle of Presidente and a bottle of wine. We chose the beer. While we sat there, people came in and out and we were introduced. BTW, four people lived in this house: A father who didn?t work, a mother who was a maid/cook, her teenage sister, and her.
She left again and went into her ?bedroom?, I guess. It was an opening with a curtain. She came out with a floor fan and placed it near us. I?m really fighting the tears now. This whole house could fit in our living room, and she?s worried that we may sweat a little!
I looked around at the wall hangings. There were 4 framed certificates where she had gone to some technical school and had some computer programming courses (DOS and BASIC - yuk). I commented on this and praised her for furthering her education.
After about 30 minutes, we decided it was time to leave. We went to our car and everyone was standing in the doorways, smiling and waving. Do we really have to leave???
We went back to Sosua for dinner. While eating, in mostly silence, my husband spoke up and said, ?This experience tonight is why I don?t give a rat?s ass anymore about my job, my golf cart, or my sports car back home. And I would jump at the chance to eat dinner with that family, rather than sitting in this fancy restaurant, listening to stupid dinner music.?
From that, we left the next morning, even more depressed than ever, and counting the days until we can get back to our beloved DR.
For all of you living in the DR, you will be bored with this story; but this was just our second experience at a local?s house. After seeing general living conditions of many Dominicans, we believe these two experiences have not been with dirt-poor locals ? but maybe lower-middleclass?
On our way to dinner, we noticed the office secretary of our community was standing at the road, waiting for a publico. Not being in any hurry, my husband asked if she wanted us to take her home. She accepted and we assumed she lived around Sosua. After driving to almost Puerta Plata, she finally told us to turn (she speaks a little english).
We drove down this dirt road and came upon a village of maybe 200 dominican-type houses: tiny clapboard houses, some painted. We continued block after block, not seeing any other cars, and watched people coming out of their houses observing us. We were in awe at the site of all of these little houses - one right after another - with many people sitting on miniature porches or walking down the narrow muddy road. We were in the midst of poverty, with the "white man's world" seeming to be 10000 miles behind us. The secretary motioned us to stop. We were at a dead-end street. She pointed to her house. She asked us to come in.
My husband claims I was out the door before she even finished her sentence - I don't remember. I remember this strange emotion overwhelming me, as I stepped up to the tiny porch. Her mother and father were sitting in chairs. She introduced us and asked us to come inside. I stood there dumbfounded, speechless, and on the verge of tears (so was my macho husband). There in this tiny room - no wider than 8 feet and about 20 feet long was a living room, family room, and dining room. The furniture was immaculate; there wasn't a speck of dust on the tables, and the swags hanging on the window (actually a square hole in the wall) were clean and pressed. The concrete floor was painted bright blue. She asked us to sit down. The "living room" consisted of a Victorian love seat, 2 chairs, and coffee table. It was such tight quarters, that all 4 pieces touched each other. We moved the coffee table and sat down. Two feet past this living room was the "family room" which consisted of 4 rocking chairs with brightly colored seat pads. These chairs surrounded a color TV on a bookshelf. Two feet beyond was the dining table with a china cabinet.
She offered us a drink and we, of course, accepted. We watched her go to the china cabinet and get two wine glasses. She disappeared in the kitchen, which, from my seat, looked like a covered porch with no walls. (I was afraid it would be rude if I got up and looked).
While waiting for her, I noticed a ceramic rabbit on the TV shelf. I couldn?t believe it. I had thrown that rabbit out the day before, because I was getting rid of the previous owner?s furnishings. I looked at my husband ? he appeared ?choked up?.
She finally came from the kitchen with a large bottle of Presidente and a bottle of wine. We chose the beer. While we sat there, people came in and out and we were introduced. BTW, four people lived in this house: A father who didn?t work, a mother who was a maid/cook, her teenage sister, and her.
She left again and went into her ?bedroom?, I guess. It was an opening with a curtain. She came out with a floor fan and placed it near us. I?m really fighting the tears now. This whole house could fit in our living room, and she?s worried that we may sweat a little!
I looked around at the wall hangings. There were 4 framed certificates where she had gone to some technical school and had some computer programming courses (DOS and BASIC - yuk). I commented on this and praised her for furthering her education.
After about 30 minutes, we decided it was time to leave. We went to our car and everyone was standing in the doorways, smiling and waving. Do we really have to leave???
We went back to Sosua for dinner. While eating, in mostly silence, my husband spoke up and said, ?This experience tonight is why I don?t give a rat?s ass anymore about my job, my golf cart, or my sports car back home. And I would jump at the chance to eat dinner with that family, rather than sitting in this fancy restaurant, listening to stupid dinner music.?
From that, we left the next morning, even more depressed than ever, and counting the days until we can get back to our beloved DR.