It's January in Michigan. I'm driving 80 miles through sleet and snow in
my old pickup & the carburator is slowly choking on ice. The interstate
is littered with abandonned vehicles. The speed limit signs give a moment
of amusement: the idea of 70 is laughable today; 35 is pushing it. I'll
be late for class and all I can think is: a week ago I was sitting under
a palm tree, drinking a beer and watching the warm waves of the Carribean
roll onto the beach.
Of course December is the cold season in the Dominican Republic, too. For
the locals, that means donning sweatsuits and jackets for walks through
the park. For me, it means a t-shirt & shorts make the heat tolerable.
December is also the holiday season. Street vendors sell holiday treats;
apples and grapes displace the usual mangos, pineapples, and papayas. On
Christmas and New Year's eve, whole roasted pigs join the regular offerings
of sugar cane and coconut milk.
The Zona Colonial, the oldest section of Santo Domingo, reminds me of the
French Quarter in New Orleans. The scale of the buildings, huddled shoulder
to shoulder, is the same. Both cities have an interesting blend of storefronts
and homes. Balconies line narrow streets. Both, of course, were established
under Spanish rule.
Santo Domingo is older, founded in Columbus's day, and parts of the old
city reflect that era. Fortified walls face the sea. Sixteenth century
forts are now museums.
Guns seem to be a continuing part of the Dominican culture, at least in
the capitol. Various police groups-- public and private-- display a wide
variety of weaponry. Men in camoflage with assault rifles patrol the highway
to the airport. Park police wear grey uniforms and carry shotguns. Traffic
police have pearl-handled revolvers. The security guard, in the picture,
protects the local grocery with a sawed-off shotgun.
The island is lush. The huge leaves of banana trees wave before tiny rural
homes. Coconuts, limes, and mangos hang over the walled yards of urban
neighborhoods. Fruit grows on trees in the city parks.
In the countryside, narrow-gage railways run through rich green fields
of sugarcane. Sugar no longer dominates the country, since tourism earnings
and dollars from "Dominican Yorks" have grown, but its importance
is undeniable. Crowded shacks house cane cutters, many immigrants from
Haiti. The trains carry the cane for processing into sugar and rum. Rum
is the national drink; Brugel and Barceló advertise it everywhere.
A good bottle of local rum sells for the equivalent of $3. It's cheaper
than beer.
>
The local beers are very good.
As in many poor countries, re-use and recycling are a way of life; empty
beer bottles return as containers for gasoline.
Dominican life offers many
pleasures for the visitor, including door to door avocado delivery.
Chuck
January 1997