Still Rambling...

It's 6:30pm and there is perceptible change in the make up of the pedestrian traffic, the waiter interrupts me asking if I want another Bohemia, I'm on a rare "writing roll" and I tell him " si como no...traeme otra" A young woman puts a bag on my table, says "perdoneme" and proceeds to redistribute the weight of the other bags she is carrying. She thanks me and leaves...the waiter arrives with my third Bohemia; I hadn't realized I was so thirsty. I've been here three days and I've not had a single glass of water! I hear the unique rasping sound of a guira and three men appear with a guira, tambora and accordion, I say to myself "perico ripiao time!" No one asks for them to play and they walk on by...sh#$..I could have paid them to play and have more writing material; I hope they come back.
Anyone reading this should not expect any deep psycho-social-political conclusions, I'm just writing things down as they develop... a young man in his teens comes to "my" table(I feel its mine now)and says "papa regalame un peso"... "ya le di a otro" I respond, having given the shoeshine boy 20 pesos. Guilt overtakes me for a nanosecond and I continue writing(I don't "give 'till it hurts") A guy dressed in official looking blue and one in scarry camouflage sit at the table next to me and order a tall Presidente and get on their cell phones(there must be more cell phones here than people in China) while the women walking by appear to be wearing ever tighter second-skin like material; must the effect of the Bohemias. Oh, I forgot to mention that the shoeshine boy said he usually makes 100 pesos/day and eats most of it; I believe him having eaten at local restaurants and hole-in-the-wall establishments. It is getting so dark I can hardly see what I'm writing and move to a table inside, my eyes are relieved. I decide its time for Lasik when I get back home...tired of glasses. Tomorrow, Friday, I'm going to meet some Dr1 members at Adrian Tropical on the Malecon, East of Maximo Gomez...a girl sits at my table and asks if I would be interested in participating in a poll about my relationship with my credit cards and the issuing companies, I agree only if she gives me some paper for me to write on. It's a deal. She tells me she'll get paid $1500 pesos if she completes 60 surveys in 5 days, I'm her tenth and she needs two more to maintain her 12 per day average...it's 7:45pm and I suggest she finds people who are not drinking...she agrees.
I was genuinely impressed by the young lady's professionalism and felt hopeful for the country if there are a lot more like her. She was the youngest in her family and her siblings had acquired some level of success in their respective professions without leaving the country. She would like to travel but expressed the difficulty most Dominicans have when trying to leave their land. I suggested she try and learn english so she can be more competitive even if she never leaves the island, she said those were her plans. I feel great and order another Bohemia; gotta stop writing, getting a cramp in my wrist, this would be a good time to be ambidextreous.

Keith R said:

2dlight, while I've very much enjoyed your ruminations (as I am sure others have), might I humbly suggest that you put them all together in a single thread, rather than starting a new one with each thought or vignette? Makes it easier to follow.

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Thanks for the suggestion...I will take your advise.

Lambada said:

Still enjoying the ramblings...................you 'write' photos of people. I find it fascinating................will you do the same after the 'get together'?

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I certainly will, unfortunately the regular cafe' is experiencing electrical difficulties and the keyboard I'm using right now has way too many symbols and characters. " I'll be back..."


It Is Friday 7:00 p.m., time to head out to the DR1 reunion at Adrian Tropical. Ronnie, assigned to go out with me at night, and I, get into the front seat of a car with two women and two kids already sitting in the back seat. The driver continues honking his horn trying to entice another fare. A voice from the back shouts in Spanish " I'll give you ten more pesos if you just go!" A say "thank you" to myself as I am sitting sideways with my right arm in harm's way. Riding in a public car at night is something that everyone visiting Santo Domingo should experience(imho). We travel through two way streets with no striping to separate the coming from the going. With a cacophony of horns, blaring music, blinking headlights and many hand signals we are at last there. I'm sweating profusely eventhough the car windows were down and there was a light breeze blowing; it must be my excitement to be meeting some of the people I only know by their screen name and the laughs and tears I've sometimes shed upon reading their posts.
Once at the restaurant I ask about a party under DR1.com or under Juanita. He looks it up and looking over his shoulder I read DR1.com-Ilania. He points me to the left to a table where three Gringo looking gentlemen and an attractive woman with long black hair sat. I introduce myself as Carlos and they in turn as "Pib" ,"Buck", "Erickson" and "Robert". Robert asks what my screen name is and "2dlight" I answer. Since I am not a conversationalist, I order a presidente and settle in. Before I finish my first glass, a lady in a black dress whom the others at the table already knew, joins us. She is "Juanita" Shortly after that a middle aged man and a handsome younger man walk up and introduce themselves as "Mirador" and "Alan". My head is spinning(no, not from the beer) trying to take in all the different topics of conversation; I ask some questions, nod or just smile in an effort to contribute something and not just sit there like a sponge. A group of four dressed-to-impress broadly smiling women accompanied by a young man join us...I sadly didn't get their names but they did take several pictures with their camera phones and when they're posted, you'll know who they are. We did do a little "musical chairs" so everyone could have chance to move about the group;I'm bad at remembering names at first meeting. Wishing I could stay longer I bid the group farewell and go outside to look for Ronnie who had gone to the movies across the street with some friends. Ronnie is not there! I decide to risk it and walk along the Malecon back to Espaillat hoping nobody messes with me. It was a very good night.

2dlight said:

I certainly will, unfortunately the regular cafe' is experiencing electrical difficulties and the keyboard I'm using right now has way too many symbols and characters. " I'll be back..."


It Is Friday 7:00 p.m., time to head out to the DR1 reunion at Adrian Tropical. Ronnie, assigned to go out with me at night, and I, get into the front seat of a car with two women and two kids already sitting in the back seat. The driver continues honking his horn trying to entice another fare. A voice from the back shouts in Spanish " I'll give you ten more pesos if you just go!" A say "thank you" to myself as I am sitting sideways with my right arm in harm's way. Riding in a public car at night is something that everyone visiting Santo Domingo should experience(imho). We travel through two way streets with no striping to separate the coming from the going. With a cacophony of horns, blaring music, blinking headlights and many hand signals we are at last there. I'm sweating profusely eventhough the car windows were down and there was a light breeze blowing; it must be my excitement to be meeting some of the people I only know by their screen name and the laughs and tears I've sometimes shed upon reading their posts.
Once at the restaurant I ask about a party under DR1.com or under Juanita. He looks it up and looking over his shoulder I read DR1.com-Ilania. He points me to the left to a table where three Gringo looking gentlemen and an attractive woman with long black hair sat. I introduce myself as Carlos and they in turn as "Pib" ,"Buck", "Erickson" and "Robert". Robert asks what my screen name is and "2dlight" I answer. Since I am not a conversationalist, I order a presidente and settle in. Before I finish my first glass, a lady in a black dress whom the others at the table already knew, joins us. She is "Juanita" Shortly after that a middle aged man and a handsome younger man walk up and introduce themselves as "Mirador" and "Alan". My head is spinning(no, not from the beer) trying to take in all the different topics of conversation; I ask some questions, nod or just smile in an effort to contribute something and not just sit there like a sponge. A group of four dressed-to-impress broadly smiling women accompanied by a young man join us...I sadly didn't get their names but they did take several pictures with their camera phones and when they're posted, you'll know who they are. We did do a little "musical chairs" so everyone could have chance to move about the group;I'm bad at remembering names at first meeting. Wishing I could stay longer I bid the group farewell and go outside to look for Ronnie who had gone to the movies across the street with some friends. Ronnie is not there! I decide to risk it and walk along the Malecon back to Espaillat hoping nobody messes with me. It was a very good night.

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Went to the streets behind Mercado Modelo this morning in search of raw materials for SANCOCHO. I won't even try to describe sancocho;it's something you have to smell, savor, fill-up with it and then get in a hammock between two mango trees and sleep it off.
The streets are crowded and the air is charged. Vendors shout loudly trying to out-do one another; music blasts from boom boxes and people exchange greetings from afar; women walk by balancing baskets of produce on their heads. A young shirtless boy passes by struggling to push a three wheeled cart replete with purple sugar cane, some already peeled and ready to chew(one does not eat sugar cane: it's chew, suck and swallow)There are mounds of produce, herbs and spices on the floor and on makeshift counters. Row upon row of Mamajuana bottles wait to be taken home to provide that sought after "boost". I walk with one eye stuck to the viewfinder and the other taking in the rest of scene; imagine looking through a microscope with one eye and trying to draw what you see with the other. The smell in the air is hard to describe-mix perfume, cigar smoke, ripe fruit and body odor and generous amounts of car exhaust, and you have something almost as potent. I'm startled by the squawking of chickens. I turn and walk into a surreal avia n massacre. There are several shirtless young boys killing-plucking-gutting and dismembering chickens, ducks, guineas and pidgeons by hand: no mechanization here.The olfactory assault is everwhelming( I'm thankful there's only a cup of black coffee in my stomach) but I have chickens at home and I've killed a few. I can handle it. I stop and blow through
a roll of film on the carnage. There are stacks of chicken heads, chicken necks and chicken feet; there are whole chickens, half chickens and chicken legs. A gentleman sitting on the side tells me that they'll process upwards of 1,000 birds today and sell them all. In addition, they custom kill and dress any bird for an additional fee. Spotting a disgusting and foul smelling mound of guts, I decide the time has come to leave.
I'm getting hungry now, time to head back and deliver the loot and have the day's first Presidente. Happy Saturday!!! Next, Boca Chica.