guest blog by jim fain

The mostly Dominican passengers were singing a peppy tune in Spanish as we began our descent into the Santo Domingo Airport. Perhaps I would have understood the song had it been about beer and food. The gleeful crowd erupted into joyful cheers and clapping for the successful landing of the plane. I would only later realize that cheering when one has been successfully conveyed in a motorized vehicle in the Domincan Republic is a natural response much akin to the thanks one would utter after successfully swimming in pirahna infested water with a bloody nose. It was a sunny Wednesday before Easter in the predominantly Catholic country. The inspection of the rental car was a litany of minor scrapes and dings that should also have forewarned us. With Tammy at the wheel we sallied forth into the Zona Colonial section of the city. As far as we can tell these are the rules of driving in the DR. Use all available space for going in your direction if two lanes can fit three cars and a scooter so be it. Honking is use for the purpose of stating here I am and I'm coming through. Lights and stop signs are arbitrary and must be observed only in major intersections with lots of cross traffic, otherwise just honk your horn and breeze on through.

Santo Domingo's Zona Colonial which is probably the oldest city of European descent in North and South America is a picturesque place. Where else can you get a Presidente grande from a little corner shop next to a 500 year old church ruin? The architecture is a beautiful mixture of stone colonial buildings and pre 50s concrete art deco which of course loves Carribean pastel colors. It is quite a mixture of varying degrees of wealth. The place we stayed opened right on the street and the tunes would be going at night at the little place on the corner where we bought Bohemia grandes and the elderly man hung out on the corner rubbing his thumb and forefinger together indicating he was a money changer. I also saw a REAL Dominican, an actual Domincan Benedictine friar complete in the homespun robe, rope belt and thong sandals, Y'all thought I pulled up his robe to see his thong underwear at first didn't ya. The food, Presidente, Bohemia and Brahma were all quite good in Santo Domingo comparable in price to a reasonable and good Memphis restaurant. In fact Memphis is kind of like a third world country in some respects to a New Yorker which is probably why they tip so well they are thinking haha I paid that! for a meal and drinks! You go into Gus' fried chicken and can get the best fried chicken in the world cheap and 40 oz beers that cost the same as at a quick stop. Although I guess you can also go up a few blocks to Chez Phillipe in the Peabody and plunk down a nice chunk a change while you negotiate your bazillion dollar purchase of the Grizzlies NBA team (currently for sale I believe).

I digress from the island, from Santo Domingo we battled through the buzzing swarms of scooters with one to five people on them, the belching vans with people hanging off the sides, battered taxis that make ski bum cars and hooptys look like rolls roycesand all the other cars from 70's toyotas on up to brand new beemers and landcruisers. It was good friday and traffic was stiff as we headed across through the mountains to the other side. The Holiday weekend had the slow down brigade out and ambulances and emergency vehicles all over the place. We stopped at a little place and had a six dollar meal of pork chops, plantain and fish stew and Presidente grande that was worth about six bucks. But it had nice friendly rural atmosphere.

From there on into Luperon and Crossroads. There we met another cruising couple Steve and Kim from Lilith Fair or Phylithflide no, wait a minute Anthyllide. It gave us a real taste of what their lives are like down in the Carribean. We even got to help a little with Glenn removing their self steering unit which they sold to Anthyllide which incidentally is an aluminum boat. We partied down and did some merenge on Saturday night and then went on to Miramar and San Isabel (where the first European settlement was and Cristobal Colon landed) Why did we change his name anyway? If we used his actual name that holiday could have become another eating holiday like Thanksgiving or New Years Day. Think about it people would assume a holiday with the same name as part of your intestine must be an eating day. Colon Day. I like it. Well I guess fat America doesn't need another eating day. What is it with changing proper names anyway? Why do we call Suomi Finland? Why do we call Espana Spain?

Anyway, the Hotel Miramar had a great Easter Sunday brunch and an interesting museum of artifacts from the pre European invasion residents. Lots of emphasis on reproduction and fertility. From Luperon back into the mountains and a stay in Jarabacoa at the Gran Jimenoa. Beautiful scenic hotel on the river. Glenn and JIm went for a mountain bike ride and Michelle and Tammy went for a horseback ride. Got to see a nice waterfall and some trash. Saw the country villas of the wealthy on down to the barely held together. Glenn and I had to work on the bikes a little before riding. I'll tell you a bike I sold for $25 was better than those bikes.

We made it back out to the airport and finally saw a crash. A scooter hit one of the phone card sellers right next to us. I was happy to drop the rental back at the airport with no new damage. All in all a relaxing trip (other than the driving) where I put on about five pounds (of Presidente and Bohemia)
-jim