jarabacoa y la interior

I’ve been planning on early starts, but this Caribbean vibe has gotten to me. I got out of Las Terrenas at 11am, and instead of taking that ridiculous road back across the mountains, I drove the extra 40 minutes around the whole Samaná peninsula. Twas probably one of my best choices so far on this trip…. just fields & fields of palm trees bordering isolated beaches.




Every few miles there was a coconut stand with a couple houses, but really not much society. 

SWARE it's a dingo
bahía escocesaplaya aislada

Once I got outta the peninsula and entered the interior, I really wasn’t too sad that I had left the beach; the mountains I was driving through were lush, wet... dank, if you will... rolling hills. It reminded me of a hike Joe & I did on Oahu a few years ago. There were rice patties in full bloom and fruit stands all the way as I stared at these cloud-absorbed peaks in the background…. I actually stopped a few times just to take a good look, it was just so pretty.




big treerice patties
peddle onirrigation




I stopped in San Francisco de Marcorís for about 1.5hrs. It was a lot bigger than I expected, and I just strolled the streets in my grungy clothes, hoping that my skin's white glow wouldn’t give me away. But, again, just head nods, smiles, and “hola” made me feel right at home… everyone hear is just ready to make you feel great. I was afraid to take my camera out at this market because it was so incredibly dirty and the people looked like a camera like mine would pay a year of their rent. I ended up saying hi to one guy and it all took off from there; 4 or 5 Dominicanos wanted to know everything about me right away, wondering why I was by myself here, what my favorite baseball team was, if I’ve been to NY, why I speak Spanish so well (which I answered “I realize now that I speak Spanish but not so much Dominican” lol), and why I was alone.





chillin at the market
sweet tomato stacki want this
ganga!mercado de san francisco de marcorís

A lot of them would catch my attention with a “Whats up?”, “Duuuuuude”, “American rules”, “Gringo I love you”, etc… Once I turned in the direction of the voice, the group would start laughing at me, but all in good fun, as in they had uncovered my (not-so-hidable) identity. There were these sweet ass hammocks on the highway that I wish I would have bought. I just justified not doing it because I am pushing the airplane carrying limits already & I am a cheap bastard. But fuck (ha)…. I wish I woulda!

Once in Jarabacoa, I walked the whole town in 2 hours. It’s pretty cool, isolated in the mountains, and the rain was off and on all day, although I didn’t mind it. Most of the time it was just misty.




unite!hasta la montaña
cock of the walk, baby
grumps



I also conducted my first ‘real’ sociolinguistic interviews: 4 old locals from 60-81 years old! They were happy to talk about anything, even the dictatorship & Haitians. Twas a great experience! There is definitely an art to that type of interview with strangers. You must keep them motivated to speak and stay interested, but also not take over the conversation, which is hard with Hispanics because the style makes me feel like I need to interject and overlap. One gave me a picture of himself that was 40 years old and then let me take another of him. It's funny how some of them try and look badass tough in their pics. I'm like "uno, dos, tres, juisqui!", and they don't smile at all haha... He said he didn’t care who knows his name or sees his pic, just the same as another one of them (I won’t put their names, just their pics bc they are sweet):




81 years oldjarabacoense

Before I left Jarabacoa, I visited the Salto de Jimenoa Uno, which wasn’t the one that was in the opening scene of Jurassic Park (that is Salto de Jimenoa Dos… damnit). Still absolutely breathtaking! (40m high)






me @ salto jimenoa uno
beautifulsalto de jimenoa uno --> beautiful!

I took off from there in hopes of reaching Constanza, a town where apparently there is a considerable amount of Eastern European immigrants (random), strawberry fields, coffee plantations on the sides of hills and a different ‘breed’ of Dominican. Well, the fuckin road was under construction so I couldn’t go; instead, I just headed south and aimed for the beach. It’s too damn bad I couldn’t avoid Santo Domingo because once I entered that clusterfuck during rush hour, 2.5hrs of honking and fighting for lanes put me in a pissy mood.




pinching me in

"ive never seen a 2 lane road become 3 cars + a motorcycle wide, NOR seen people use the oncoming traffic lane to pass others!!! #quitefucked", tweet






Hispanics (yes, all of them) are incredibly bad about being precise with directions: “Oh ya, just head down that way and you make a little turn, you’re there already”… ummm, what the fuck? I don’t think any Hispanic would even object to how vague they can be when trying to explain driving directions (correct me if I’m wrong, hispanos!). I prefer Anglos in this situation: “Go 3 blocks, turn left on Jefferson street, then turn right at the third light, which is 5th street, then continue for 2 miles until you see a sign for the highway, then the ramp is on your left.” Well, anyways, I arrived in Boca Chica, just east of Santo Domingo, and you don’t know how excited I was to see “Hotel Mango”: parking, internet, bar. A tall white Austrian dude with a sweet beard greeted me, and now I am parked safely and chugging away at this beer & WiFi. Well, tomorrow will be dedicated to the beach and the beach only! After that, 2.5 days in Santo Domingo. Can’t wait to visit the first street, church, and school in the Americas!!





hotel mango!

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