For those curious:
I arrived in SDQ late Monday night and took a cab to the hotel Danae in Gazcue, where I had made arrangements over the internet for a room at 900 pesos a night. ?It?s 1000 pesos,? the guy told me. When I told him about the emails I had exchanged, he shrugged and said, ?Oh, well there are different priced rooms, you see. Maybe I can get you this room,? he said with a broad sweep of his hand around the tiny room, ?for 900, if you tip me well.?
I was off with a bang.
The next morning I had some time before meeting with my future employer, so I bought a Listin Diaro from a kiosk and scoured its Classifieds over breakfast. I didn?t yet have a Dominican cell phone, and I?m okay in Spanish, but not fluent. Talking to strangers over the telephone in Spanish, using technical language about down payments and electrical bills, was a bit intimidating. Besides, I suspected they would raise the price when they learned I was an American.
Fortunately, most of the listings already specified a price. ?It can?t go any higher than that,? I told myself. I found a payphone and made some calls.
My job will be in Piantini, an area I had been warned that I probably couldn?t afford, unless I wanted to seriously dip into my US savings. I?ve lived in Manhattan and am used to paying exorbitant rents (almost $1500 for my last, tiny one bedroom in the East Village), but couldn?t justify paying that much in the developing world. I wouldn?t pay that much in Chicago! I wanted to find something between $250-500 USD.
Neighborhood-wise, I liked Gazcue. The tall, flowering trees are beautiful and I imagined walking through the colonial zone and down the Malecon in the evenings. I would also look around Naco and the other neighborhoods which border Piantini.
The first apartment I saw was in Gazcue, for $1300 pesos. I met the real estate agent in the street. He kept asking me what color my car was, incredulous that I would be walking. Covered in sweat, I later learned why. The apartment was nice, with a balcony, but unfurnished All of the apartments I?d lived in in the States (NY, Chicago, LA) had been unfurnished and I?m a single guy. I?m used to living simply. I could throw a mattress on the floor. But this wasn?t ?unfurnished? as I took the word to mean. This was empty. No refrigerator. No oven. No linoleum or tiles. Barely a toilet. I knew at once that I wasn?t going to be buying an oven and I immediately modified my search ? furnished apartments only.
The next Gazcue apartment was listed as furnished, and only $700 pesos. It was a tiny little room, with a cubic refrigerator a foot tall and a George Foreman grill plugged into the wall. When I expressed displeasure, this real estate agent offered to show me another apartment. ?1400 pesos,? he told me. ?And 300 pesos to see it.? When I laughed, he stormed off without saying goodbye.
By this time I had to go to Piantini to meet with the new boss. She mentioned her boyfriend knew of some places and would be willing to take me out the next day.
I had been taking public transportation and walking and by the time I got back to the hotel that evening, I was completely exhausted. The next day I bought another Listin Diaro and scoured the Classifieds again. There was a furnished apartment on Paseo de los Locutures and a real estate agent with a sexy, flirtatious voice that wanted to show it to me. ?What color is your car?? she asked.
She told me to meet her at number 72. I walked from Avenida Churchill, drenched in sweat, holding my new Dominican cell phone in my hand. I had already run out of minutes, and so was awaiting her call. Standing, cooking in the sun, she wasn?t arriving. She finally called and wanted to know where I was. ?72,? I told her, ?just like you said.?
?Ohhh?? she laughed. ?I meant 70.? No big deal, right? I figured I would just walk next door. The building next door was some sort of home for retarded people. I waited again for her call. And waited. And sweat some more.
When she called, I told her where I was. ?Oh, number 70 isn?t next to 72,? she told me. It was a mile or so away. When I saw the apartment, it was also unfurnished (=empty). There were two patio chairs. ?The listing said furnished,? I told her.
?The owner would like a financial commitment from you so that she has the money to purchase the furnishings,? I was told.
I was gua-gua?d back to Gazcue, took another shower, and made some more calls. I found an apartment on Uruguay. One bedroom, clean, fully furnished, parking, 24 hour security, inversor, 1500 pesos. I hiked over and met the agent. I liked the place! This was really furnished?. It even had a blender! I would just have to remove those giant cardboard poster-sized photos of shirtless men with long black hair, frolicking in the surf.
?This is the one I will take,? I thought. The only real negative was that it was on the first floor. I checked the bars closely, thanks to my reading on DR1.
But my second call brought to another place a few blocks away, off of 30 de Marzo. The apartment was a big two bedroom, on the fifth floor! The balcony had a view of the Caribbean, it was fully furnished. With a/c, fans, a proper kitchen, queen sized beds, etc. There was even an elevator. The owner lived two floors down ? an old Swedish guy who wanted to talk English with me.
I asked him about the power situation. (?We?re on the same line as the nearby Presidential Palace,? he assured me.) I couldn?t tell if he was bull****ting me or not, but over the course of the week, there wouldn?t prove to be one outing.
I asked him about water. (If there is power, there is water).
I asked him about safety. (24 hour guards, besides the apartment is on the fifth floor. There has never been an outside break-in, he told me. At least in his 30 years owning the apartment).
As for rent. He wanted to be paid in dollars ? 500 dollars. I didn?t mind so much paying in dollars. I will be paid in dollars, after all, and figured I could open a dollar account at one of the banks. But 500? That was my upper limit.
I vacillated between the apartment on Uruguay. It was cheaper, a little closer to work. It had parking, not that I have a car, but you never know?. Then the Swede told me, ?My only condition is that you not have a Dominican girlfriend living here with you.?
Now, I certainly never planned to have a Dominican gf living with me! But this rubbed me the wrong way. Sure, the guy?s got his own racist reasons (they?re hard to evict, they steal things, he told me). But I was MORE concerned that he would even be interested in my ?girlfriends.? I hated to think of a landlord who would snoop. Especially an old effeminate European.
I figured I would go with Uruguay. I went back to talk to the agent there. But, ah? I had forgot about her ?commission.? One month?s rent. The Swede wanted no commission. When I asked her about what to do if/when things broke, she said I could call the owner for the first three months. After that, I was on my own. (?No superintendent?!? The NYer in me wanted to shout). With the Swede, he had assured me I could always call him and he would have anything that broke replaced.
I decided, in the end, to go with Sweden. It was Thursday and the search had taken me three days and lots of walking and sweating. But I had my Dominican apartment.
He wanted two months deposit and the first month?s rent. Simple enough, right? Here?s where I started to lose my ****. I walked down the BHD bank by Parque de Indepedencia in order to draw $1500 from my US accounts. That?s when I realized ? I hadn?t brought a checkbook! I only came for a week and didn?t remember to bring a checkbook! (Who travels with checks?) I only had debit and credit cards! How stupid was I! Debit cards only spit out 500 bucks a day at best. Perhaps after a few days I could arrange his $1500, but what about the money I needed to live on in the meantime? It was a banking nightmare. The BHD people were incompetent, and my stupid American banks began blocking my accounts, thinking my cards were stolen. I didn?t have toll-free international numbers and spent an hour trying to get through.
Finally ? finally ? the next day I arranged for a cash advance, using a credit card. I paid the Swede and slept in my new bed that night.
I arrived in SDQ late Monday night and took a cab to the hotel Danae in Gazcue, where I had made arrangements over the internet for a room at 900 pesos a night. ?It?s 1000 pesos,? the guy told me. When I told him about the emails I had exchanged, he shrugged and said, ?Oh, well there are different priced rooms, you see. Maybe I can get you this room,? he said with a broad sweep of his hand around the tiny room, ?for 900, if you tip me well.?
I was off with a bang.
The next morning I had some time before meeting with my future employer, so I bought a Listin Diaro from a kiosk and scoured its Classifieds over breakfast. I didn?t yet have a Dominican cell phone, and I?m okay in Spanish, but not fluent. Talking to strangers over the telephone in Spanish, using technical language about down payments and electrical bills, was a bit intimidating. Besides, I suspected they would raise the price when they learned I was an American.
Fortunately, most of the listings already specified a price. ?It can?t go any higher than that,? I told myself. I found a payphone and made some calls.
My job will be in Piantini, an area I had been warned that I probably couldn?t afford, unless I wanted to seriously dip into my US savings. I?ve lived in Manhattan and am used to paying exorbitant rents (almost $1500 for my last, tiny one bedroom in the East Village), but couldn?t justify paying that much in the developing world. I wouldn?t pay that much in Chicago! I wanted to find something between $250-500 USD.
Neighborhood-wise, I liked Gazcue. The tall, flowering trees are beautiful and I imagined walking through the colonial zone and down the Malecon in the evenings. I would also look around Naco and the other neighborhoods which border Piantini.
The first apartment I saw was in Gazcue, for $1300 pesos. I met the real estate agent in the street. He kept asking me what color my car was, incredulous that I would be walking. Covered in sweat, I later learned why. The apartment was nice, with a balcony, but unfurnished All of the apartments I?d lived in in the States (NY, Chicago, LA) had been unfurnished and I?m a single guy. I?m used to living simply. I could throw a mattress on the floor. But this wasn?t ?unfurnished? as I took the word to mean. This was empty. No refrigerator. No oven. No linoleum or tiles. Barely a toilet. I knew at once that I wasn?t going to be buying an oven and I immediately modified my search ? furnished apartments only.
The next Gazcue apartment was listed as furnished, and only $700 pesos. It was a tiny little room, with a cubic refrigerator a foot tall and a George Foreman grill plugged into the wall. When I expressed displeasure, this real estate agent offered to show me another apartment. ?1400 pesos,? he told me. ?And 300 pesos to see it.? When I laughed, he stormed off without saying goodbye.
By this time I had to go to Piantini to meet with the new boss. She mentioned her boyfriend knew of some places and would be willing to take me out the next day.
I had been taking public transportation and walking and by the time I got back to the hotel that evening, I was completely exhausted. The next day I bought another Listin Diaro and scoured the Classifieds again. There was a furnished apartment on Paseo de los Locutures and a real estate agent with a sexy, flirtatious voice that wanted to show it to me. ?What color is your car?? she asked.
She told me to meet her at number 72. I walked from Avenida Churchill, drenched in sweat, holding my new Dominican cell phone in my hand. I had already run out of minutes, and so was awaiting her call. Standing, cooking in the sun, she wasn?t arriving. She finally called and wanted to know where I was. ?72,? I told her, ?just like you said.?
?Ohhh?? she laughed. ?I meant 70.? No big deal, right? I figured I would just walk next door. The building next door was some sort of home for retarded people. I waited again for her call. And waited. And sweat some more.
When she called, I told her where I was. ?Oh, number 70 isn?t next to 72,? she told me. It was a mile or so away. When I saw the apartment, it was also unfurnished (=empty). There were two patio chairs. ?The listing said furnished,? I told her.
?The owner would like a financial commitment from you so that she has the money to purchase the furnishings,? I was told.
I was gua-gua?d back to Gazcue, took another shower, and made some more calls. I found an apartment on Uruguay. One bedroom, clean, fully furnished, parking, 24 hour security, inversor, 1500 pesos. I hiked over and met the agent. I liked the place! This was really furnished?. It even had a blender! I would just have to remove those giant cardboard poster-sized photos of shirtless men with long black hair, frolicking in the surf.
?This is the one I will take,? I thought. The only real negative was that it was on the first floor. I checked the bars closely, thanks to my reading on DR1.
But my second call brought to another place a few blocks away, off of 30 de Marzo. The apartment was a big two bedroom, on the fifth floor! The balcony had a view of the Caribbean, it was fully furnished. With a/c, fans, a proper kitchen, queen sized beds, etc. There was even an elevator. The owner lived two floors down ? an old Swedish guy who wanted to talk English with me.
I asked him about the power situation. (?We?re on the same line as the nearby Presidential Palace,? he assured me.) I couldn?t tell if he was bull****ting me or not, but over the course of the week, there wouldn?t prove to be one outing.
I asked him about water. (If there is power, there is water).
I asked him about safety. (24 hour guards, besides the apartment is on the fifth floor. There has never been an outside break-in, he told me. At least in his 30 years owning the apartment).
As for rent. He wanted to be paid in dollars ? 500 dollars. I didn?t mind so much paying in dollars. I will be paid in dollars, after all, and figured I could open a dollar account at one of the banks. But 500? That was my upper limit.
I vacillated between the apartment on Uruguay. It was cheaper, a little closer to work. It had parking, not that I have a car, but you never know?. Then the Swede told me, ?My only condition is that you not have a Dominican girlfriend living here with you.?
Now, I certainly never planned to have a Dominican gf living with me! But this rubbed me the wrong way. Sure, the guy?s got his own racist reasons (they?re hard to evict, they steal things, he told me). But I was MORE concerned that he would even be interested in my ?girlfriends.? I hated to think of a landlord who would snoop. Especially an old effeminate European.
I figured I would go with Uruguay. I went back to talk to the agent there. But, ah? I had forgot about her ?commission.? One month?s rent. The Swede wanted no commission. When I asked her about what to do if/when things broke, she said I could call the owner for the first three months. After that, I was on my own. (?No superintendent?!? The NYer in me wanted to shout). With the Swede, he had assured me I could always call him and he would have anything that broke replaced.
I decided, in the end, to go with Sweden. It was Thursday and the search had taken me three days and lots of walking and sweating. But I had my Dominican apartment.
He wanted two months deposit and the first month?s rent. Simple enough, right? Here?s where I started to lose my ****. I walked down the BHD bank by Parque de Indepedencia in order to draw $1500 from my US accounts. That?s when I realized ? I hadn?t brought a checkbook! I only came for a week and didn?t remember to bring a checkbook! (Who travels with checks?) I only had debit and credit cards! How stupid was I! Debit cards only spit out 500 bucks a day at best. Perhaps after a few days I could arrange his $1500, but what about the money I needed to live on in the meantime? It was a banking nightmare. The BHD people were incompetent, and my stupid American banks began blocking my accounts, thinking my cards were stolen. I didn?t have toll-free international numbers and spent an hour trying to get through.
Finally ? finally ? the next day I arranged for a cash advance, using a credit card. I paid the Swede and slept in my new bed that night.