I've been sitting on this, literally, as so many recent events have colored what I want to say about my misconceptions of cruising.
I was worried back in Georgetown that I didn't know cruising ettiquette, like there is any...and I remember asking a friend and singlehander about what the social circle is like, and how do you get rid of unwanted boaters who overextend their welcome....like I have trouble with that on land, why should this be different? Well, somehow I thought this amazing lifestyle elevated people to like mindedness. We had a sailboat come through G'town for afew weeks in December last year, and I initially liked them(well maybe until he brought his guitar over and played German folk songs) but there came a point where they were at our boat too much, when they reciprocated with dinner they wanted to cook it on our boat, they began to peddle their pyramid scheme and finally I was crawling around so they couldn't see me from their boat.
So my singlehander said it was never a problem, you just dismiss them...tell them its time to go home. I am thinking what if everybody wants to raft together and I can't get away from them. All these like-minded people who live and work on their boats are going to be respectful and understanding neighbors.
Welcome to Luperon where after afew short weeks I was subjected to a variety of versions of peoples' lives and more of it was coming in on a daily basis...bad relationships, princesses on boats, drinks too much, doesn't drink enough, jealous , controlling, self appointed harbor authorities , lazy Domincans, water aerobics classes, nudists, french canadians, bridge games,pot lucks, daily happy hours, too many details that almost spoiled my relationships with new people.
They actually call the hillside where several cruisers have built homes Gringo Hill, in the same evil vent I used to make fun of physicians on Pill Hill... This was going to be titled As the Harbor Turns, or As the Anchor Drags, but I became so disappointed that Ugly Americans are everywhere, even in isolated little corners of the world, each one toting their own baggage, contents spilling over the side.
On the positive side although I smiled and thanked them very much I will not be rushing to town to buy a 'noodle' so I can attend the water aerobics classes I have avoided for the last 25 years. No one has asked to raft up together and get plastered on rum and beer, but I do understand this is not uncommon, in dinghys, and you have to bring an hors d'oeuvre to share...maybe later on that. We have been to dinner on Gringo Hill , and to another gringos home and had wonderful times, and wondered where all the rumors sprouted from. I thought I had left all the petty childish behavior in the States.
We have now entered into our own little childish ring or fire here on the dock. How can this be possible with only 4 boats clumped together? Usually I offer up Capt. Rock as a fine example of how easy it is to piss people off, or that maybe one of my catty little remarks or names has slipped out, but we have been on our (relatively speaking)best behavior . Up until now. The fur is bound to fly here before long. Seems the contestant on boat #4 didn't like the work being done on Magpie( sanding and refinishing the brightwork, and sanding off the deck paint by two local workers) and last week he complained to the yacht club management(using the term very loosely) and an environmental specialist was sent down to the boat. This is in a country where nothing is regulated, there are no sewers, health regulations, nothing, nada. Turns out our worker knew the environmental guy and they chatted and he left with a grin and my favorite Dominican response,"no problemo."
Rock would not let me call Boater#4 the Dock Snitch, so he remained Motorcycle Al (sung to the tune of Basket Ball Jones) and we went about our work.
There was a small incident at happy hour where Motorcycle Al and Capt Rock disagreed about line of sight at sea, and it upset Motorcycle Al's wife so much she had to sit at another table, but we didn't think much of if,other than an amusing thing to do if we were all back in high school having a malt at the hop. So maybe there was tension when I walked the dogs by Boater#4 two or three times a day, but I wasn't crawling yet.
I should add we are in week three of grinding and sanding, and it is a day from completion, we wash down boats # 2 and #3 and apologize profusely when we are all hunkered inside waiting for 5 o'clock when we can take a deep breath without scratching fiberglass . Boat #4 is the farthest away, and quite protected from the dust and wood shavings.
Unfortunately the day after the decks were finished, our wonderful wood guy , who had hand sanded everything from day one, picked up a sander to do a flat surface. It was just wood and not much but it put Boater#4 and his esposa into a frenzy and he went to the owner of the marina with his story , had a tarp put up on our boat, and complained to anyone who would listen, with the exception of us. And Ms Esposa was unable to leave the boat due to crying about our ruining her boat. It was a most uncomfortable scene, boaters #2 and #3 were now involved, and stuck up for us. Theres alot more tension on the dock now, and while we still attend the occasional happy hour and pot luck it is not comfortable and the gringos have much to wag their tails about. I do not crawl by with the dogs, and am looking forward to telling my singlehander that I have solved the problem of the social circle . The bright spot is I am now allowed to call Motorcycle Al the Dock Snitch, but Rock misses the song....maybe I will have to get a noodle and play water aerobics after all.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The Real Luperon Yacht Club
To go back a bit, our destination Luperon, came from several experienced cruiser's recommendations, and a cruising guide, Passages South by Bruce Van Sant, and was going to be a stopover on the way to points south, with our first serious anchoring out in a safe harbor... And despite my preparations via the internet of all the customs, agriculture, and pet regulations, I really didn't have much info on Luperon . Well, I didn't know we would have battery and hydraulics issues that would keep us from anchoring out, or that I would have this quick and deep love for Luperon just as it is.
So, when we limped into the harbor, we were guided to one of the two "marinas" in the harbor, Marina Luperon Yacht Club. We were thrilled there was a spot with enough water for our 7.5 foot draft, and didn't have a clue what to expect other than the ad in the book. There was power and water hook up, a dock,( that squeaks and moves with each shaky step as if it could tilt right into the water) and up the 58 perpendicular stone steps, a huge round two story building with a thatched roof, a restaurant and bar with a great view of the harbor, 2 swimming pools, and the list of amenities from the ad ... And it was OK when we discovered they couldn't cook a hamburgesa, and the steps were good for all of us...humph. The fuel dock, wi-fi, satellite TV, ice, hotel, laundry ...did not properly exist, but it was no big deal, we have our own laundry , ice, didn't want hotel or TV and found internet service and fuel elsewhere....The real misconception came from a friend who after going through the process of being allowed to join a (real) Yacht Club in the San Juan Islands, asked me if www.luperonmarina.com was as nice as it looked.... so, curious to see, I found the flashing "under construction" sign to be a slight understatement. Wow, with hotels, a boat lift and boat yard, multiple floating docks, it looked so like a real marina! So, unlike the next boat to dock here shortly after us, we had no preconceptions. The necessities were fine, mixed liberally with friendly, hardworking, non-english speaking help, a free stairmaster workout, daily happy hours with cold beer and drinks, and the wandering horses , cows, and dogs made this a special place. This is pretty amazing, as it is my heritage to criticize/find fault or be negative about things in general. I am working on this, I promise. The boat that arrived afew days after us, taking the only other spot on the one rickety dock, had obviously believed what they saw on the internet. Theirs is one of those boats, like a perfectly coiffed toy poodle complete with red toenails and a bow in its topknot, or a condo for sale in Town and Country, the 61 foot Hatteras came in with its owners wearing headsets and matching fanny packs...all the gadgets, mats, and accoutrement were shiny new, and expertly embossed with the boats name. Well, maybe I am a boat snob(!), and maybe they really do like it here, but tomorrow they are heading on to Ocean World Marina & Casino and Adventure Park, about 35 miles east of here near Puerto Plata, where you can swim with the dolphins and dock your yacht in proper style. My biggest drawback is naming people(no, not labeling...) and on passing by the shiny boat the first time with the dogs in tow for the morning stairmaster, I saw the economy-sized bottle of Febreeze through the (tinted glass) port....thus they became The Febreezers, or as Rock volunteered, The Febreeziacs. Sometimes my names do make it hard to warm up to people, but then rarely give names to those I am close to.
So welcome to the Real Yacht Club, its almost 5:00 and happy hour whispers down the stairmaster.
So, when we limped into the harbor, we were guided to one of the two "marinas" in the harbor, Marina Luperon Yacht Club. We were thrilled there was a spot with enough water for our 7.5 foot draft, and didn't have a clue what to expect other than the ad in the book. There was power and water hook up, a dock,( that squeaks and moves with each shaky step as if it could tilt right into the water) and up the 58 perpendicular stone steps, a huge round two story building with a thatched roof, a restaurant and bar with a great view of the harbor, 2 swimming pools, and the list of amenities from the ad ... And it was OK when we discovered they couldn't cook a hamburgesa, and the steps were good for all of us...humph. The fuel dock, wi-fi, satellite TV, ice, hotel, laundry ...did not properly exist, but it was no big deal, we have our own laundry , ice, didn't want hotel or TV and found internet service and fuel elsewhere....The real misconception came from a friend who after going through the process of being allowed to join a (real) Yacht Club in the San Juan Islands, asked me if www.luperonmarina.com was as nice as it looked.... so, curious to see, I found the flashing "under construction" sign to be a slight understatement. Wow, with hotels, a boat lift and boat yard, multiple floating docks, it looked so like a real marina! So, unlike the next boat to dock here shortly after us, we had no preconceptions. The necessities were fine, mixed liberally with friendly, hardworking, non-english speaking help, a free stairmaster workout, daily happy hours with cold beer and drinks, and the wandering horses , cows, and dogs made this a special place. This is pretty amazing, as it is my heritage to criticize/find fault or be negative about things in general. I am working on this, I promise. The boat that arrived afew days after us, taking the only other spot on the one rickety dock, had obviously believed what they saw on the internet. Theirs is one of those boats, like a perfectly coiffed toy poodle complete with red toenails and a bow in its topknot, or a condo for sale in Town and Country, the 61 foot Hatteras came in with its owners wearing headsets and matching fanny packs...all the gadgets, mats, and accoutrement were shiny new, and expertly embossed with the boats name. Well, maybe I am a boat snob(!), and maybe they really do like it here, but tomorrow they are heading on to Ocean World Marina & Casino and Adventure Park, about 35 miles east of here near Puerto Plata, where you can swim with the dolphins and dock your yacht in proper style. My biggest drawback is naming people(no, not labeling...) and on passing by the shiny boat the first time with the dogs in tow for the morning stairmaster, I saw the economy-sized bottle of Febreeze through the (tinted glass) port....thus they became The Febreezers, or as Rock volunteered, The Febreeziacs. Sometimes my names do make it hard to warm up to people, but then rarely give names to those I am close to.
So welcome to the Real Yacht Club, its almost 5:00 and happy hour whispers down the stairmaster.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Time for a Road Trip!
3/26/09 After a couple of days of intermittent showers we have a car and driver for a trip to Santiago with Tom, owner and builder of an amazing steel boat Essential Part. Oh and hes a good ole Yankee from NY, cruising the Caribbean.
Tom needs wood for his boat, and is able to negotiate a van and driver , so we meet at the marina and meet Eric and a van with lots of room to spread out. Our agenda is simple: a lumber yard, grocery store and Ohchoas, a large hardware store. The man who arranged this recommends lunch at Pez Dorado. Its luxury to have my own seat and I am glued to the view speeding past as we travel out of Luperon south to Santiago, the second largest city with a population of about 1.3 million.
But first we stop at a roadside market selling fresh cows cheese, as Eric did not get breakfast. We all sample it, its so fabulous I buy a ball of it, salty, and very light in texture like fresh mozzarella but definitely a cow product. I can go home now.
Bumpy roads we are used to, we pass and are passed by many motorbikes and cars. The landscape is full of banana groves, lush pastures with grazing cows, goats and horses, huge royal palms, clusters of huts and shacks all surrounded by mountains. We pass through Imbert, a small town and crossroads for motorconchos,buses,taxis, colorful with all the stands and roadside attractions.
As we pass up the mountain through a tunnel we enter the Cibao Valley which stretches from the northwest coast to the east coast ,over 125 miles of farmland. I had already had a bit too much emotion over the avocado groves, and hearing about the coffee and cocoa grown in the mountains, but this was several kleenexes for me to get past sugar cane, rice, tobacco, all so big and vibrant. Little to no pesticides are necessary here, and it sounds like chemical warfare to increase production has not reached this land.
Our first stop is Madeco Lumber, and here we are all given dark rich locally grown coffee, hot and sweet, on a silver tray , china espresso cups, while the workmen are busy cutting planing, loading lumber. Wow, this is some customer service. Its slow, but we get to the stacks of wood with the manager and after awhile , with Eric's translation wood is picked out. Now they begin the long process of calculating the sizes out of each board, and the cost. We wander around, look at wood, shop tools, all kinds of stuff. Another hour passes, they're still calculating. We are served fresh-squeezed orange juice in wine glasses and that silver tray is back. It is so sweet, its like Tang. I try not to think that some vodka would be nice, but I am still enjoying the coffee buzz. Goodbye Lowes and Home Depot, I will never go back!
Its all settled and the price is good and we are due back at 4 to pick it up. Off we go to PriceSmart, its a membership shopping experience and I feel like I am back at Costco! We pick up afew things on the list, giggle at the US and Dominican Brands, decline the hotdog for lunch(Rock's favorite lunch in Myrtle Beach!) and are off to Pez Dorado, after a stop for me to change money. Eric takes me to a farmacia, despite my request for a bank, and I am pleased with the exchange rate, and meet yet another Dominican who lived in Newark...if they've been to the US its always NY or NJ....Eric, too, lived in NYC and NJ... so anyway, we check some RX prices and are disappointed to find most of Rock's are more expensive than we want to pay, although far less expensive than US. Pez Dorado turns out to be a fancy older restaurant with lots of bad art from the 1950s, maroon-coated waiters who speak no english and a very pricey menu. Eric and Tom are smart and order chop suey and pork chow mein, while Rock and I are adventurous and have the unidentifiable seafood in a scallop shell(me) and fish cakes(Rock) I also try some inedible burnt lobster bisque. I enjoy the chinese choices muchly. We are all relieved to leave, I wanted regional authentic grub, but not more chicken and beans and salad.
We stop at and innercity grocery, with warnings to keep our money in a front pocket and off we go into a dirty crowded store, I find afew things, Eric gets us to try the corn pudding, we all pig out and eye the rice pudding, flan, they do love their sweets! Rock buys Lambi(conch) that is fresh and slimy. I dream about conch fritters at the Poop Deck in Nassau....
In a rush for time and Eric drops us off at Ochoas, the mega hardware store, and he and Tom go back to the lumber yard . Its a barn of a place but it is hard to find anything, and although the staff is helpful they no hablo engles and we are sent all over the place on snipe hunts. We manage to check out as Tom and Eric arrive, the wood is not with them, for pick up another day, but they did give Tom a refund after more calculating! I think they got more coffee too....
Santiago is a handsome city, full of tall buildings, universities, malls and stores, and small rugged neighborhoods, yet these people are the same as those living in huts in the countryside and they are of modest means and friendly. The traffic is fast and furious with cars, motorbikes, buses and taxis all ignoring lanes, using their horns for everything from hi how are you to move out of my way to make room, here I come. Its loud and jovial, and despite what looked like nanoinches between vehicles there were no accidents.
On the way out of town we buy papayas, pineapples by the armful from men walking into the street with all kinds of produce, and of course cell phone paraphernalia. Can't escape the ubiquitous cell phone and cell cards,cases.... I pile my seven papayas for 3$ at my feet , Rock is not happy knowing we will be eating alot of papaya before the week is over. I want bananas but not the whole tree, as they sell them, and Eric points out they are plantains, so in order to keep Rock's blood sugar from coma level I stop buying .
We have a quiet ride home, Eric is anxious to get home to his family. I am amazed at how easily he speeds us past the motorbikes, people walking along the road, people gathering at each others huts spilling into the road, slowing down for the invisible bumps and sleeping policemen in the dark.
Tom needs wood for his boat, and is able to negotiate a van and driver , so we meet at the marina and meet Eric and a van with lots of room to spread out. Our agenda is simple: a lumber yard, grocery store and Ohchoas, a large hardware store. The man who arranged this recommends lunch at Pez Dorado. Its luxury to have my own seat and I am glued to the view speeding past as we travel out of Luperon south to Santiago, the second largest city with a population of about 1.3 million.
But first we stop at a roadside market selling fresh cows cheese, as Eric did not get breakfast. We all sample it, its so fabulous I buy a ball of it, salty, and very light in texture like fresh mozzarella but definitely a cow product. I can go home now.
Bumpy roads we are used to, we pass and are passed by many motorbikes and cars. The landscape is full of banana groves, lush pastures with grazing cows, goats and horses, huge royal palms, clusters of huts and shacks all surrounded by mountains. We pass through Imbert, a small town and crossroads for motorconchos,buses,taxis, colorful with all the stands and roadside attractions.
As we pass up the mountain through a tunnel we enter the Cibao Valley which stretches from the northwest coast to the east coast ,over 125 miles of farmland. I had already had a bit too much emotion over the avocado groves, and hearing about the coffee and cocoa grown in the mountains, but this was several kleenexes for me to get past sugar cane, rice, tobacco, all so big and vibrant. Little to no pesticides are necessary here, and it sounds like chemical warfare to increase production has not reached this land.
Our first stop is Madeco Lumber, and here we are all given dark rich locally grown coffee, hot and sweet, on a silver tray , china espresso cups, while the workmen are busy cutting planing, loading lumber. Wow, this is some customer service. Its slow, but we get to the stacks of wood with the manager and after awhile , with Eric's translation wood is picked out. Now they begin the long process of calculating the sizes out of each board, and the cost. We wander around, look at wood, shop tools, all kinds of stuff. Another hour passes, they're still calculating. We are served fresh-squeezed orange juice in wine glasses and that silver tray is back. It is so sweet, its like Tang. I try not to think that some vodka would be nice, but I am still enjoying the coffee buzz. Goodbye Lowes and Home Depot, I will never go back!
Its all settled and the price is good and we are due back at 4 to pick it up. Off we go to PriceSmart, its a membership shopping experience and I feel like I am back at Costco! We pick up afew things on the list, giggle at the US and Dominican Brands, decline the hotdog for lunch(Rock's favorite lunch in Myrtle Beach!) and are off to Pez Dorado, after a stop for me to change money. Eric takes me to a farmacia, despite my request for a bank, and I am pleased with the exchange rate, and meet yet another Dominican who lived in Newark...if they've been to the US its always NY or NJ....Eric, too, lived in NYC and NJ... so anyway, we check some RX prices and are disappointed to find most of Rock's are more expensive than we want to pay, although far less expensive than US. Pez Dorado turns out to be a fancy older restaurant with lots of bad art from the 1950s, maroon-coated waiters who speak no english and a very pricey menu. Eric and Tom are smart and order chop suey and pork chow mein, while Rock and I are adventurous and have the unidentifiable seafood in a scallop shell(me) and fish cakes(Rock) I also try some inedible burnt lobster bisque. I enjoy the chinese choices muchly. We are all relieved to leave, I wanted regional authentic grub, but not more chicken and beans and salad.
We stop at and innercity grocery, with warnings to keep our money in a front pocket and off we go into a dirty crowded store, I find afew things, Eric gets us to try the corn pudding, we all pig out and eye the rice pudding, flan, they do love their sweets! Rock buys Lambi(conch) that is fresh and slimy. I dream about conch fritters at the Poop Deck in Nassau....
In a rush for time and Eric drops us off at Ochoas, the mega hardware store, and he and Tom go back to the lumber yard . Its a barn of a place but it is hard to find anything, and although the staff is helpful they no hablo engles and we are sent all over the place on snipe hunts. We manage to check out as Tom and Eric arrive, the wood is not with them, for pick up another day, but they did give Tom a refund after more calculating! I think they got more coffee too....
Santiago is a handsome city, full of tall buildings, universities, malls and stores, and small rugged neighborhoods, yet these people are the same as those living in huts in the countryside and they are of modest means and friendly. The traffic is fast and furious with cars, motorbikes, buses and taxis all ignoring lanes, using their horns for everything from hi how are you to move out of my way to make room, here I come. Its loud and jovial, and despite what looked like nanoinches between vehicles there were no accidents.
On the way out of town we buy papayas, pineapples by the armful from men walking into the street with all kinds of produce, and of course cell phone paraphernalia. Can't escape the ubiquitous cell phone and cell cards,cases.... I pile my seven papayas for 3$ at my feet , Rock is not happy knowing we will be eating alot of papaya before the week is over. I want bananas but not the whole tree, as they sell them, and Eric points out they are plantains, so in order to keep Rock's blood sugar from coma level I stop buying .
We have a quiet ride home, Eric is anxious to get home to his family. I am amazed at how easily he speeds us past the motorbikes, people walking along the road, people gathering at each others huts spilling into the road, slowing down for the invisible bumps and sleeping policemen in the dark.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Week of March 16th
Our first week in Luperon begins with engine assessment, alot of banging and cussing as the worn out idler is removed from its inconvenient location, attempts are made to transfer fuel to correct our pronounced list to port (unsuccessful, stay out of the engine room at all costs...) Many greasy pants and t-shirts pile up for Magpie's famous in-house laundry service (have degreaser, full sized washer and dryer, will travel.) But remember, No tickie No shirtie!!! Rock caves and we purchase fuel from Handy Andy and Papo to fill the starboard tank, and no more list! But not the Venezuela prices we planned for! We have great meals, courtesy the chest freezer, wine and liquor cabinet. I buy a flat of eggs and a case of Bohemia at Capt. Steves Place...the eggs are huge, some the size of a small baseball, and abit dirty, but who eats the shell anyway?
I walk to the next marina, Puerto Blanco, and get a weeks worth of internet, complete with warnings not to Skype 6a-6p, and the best time for server use is 2am-6am. Not me, I will be sleeping well then, thank you. We make our way to Shaggy's Bar for our free rum drink, offered to us on arrival by Lynne who came out to save us in her dinghy. She and her son have purchased the bar , which opened in the fall of last year, and we relax with beer and rum and local banter.
On Thursday, 3/19, we arrange for a car for a trip to El Castillo and La Isabela, not far from Luperon. Well, we go up the 50+ steps to the the Yacht Club at the given time, and do alittle waiting as we haven't quite figured out Dominican Time...and up pulls a battered ancient Camry with two young men.Unfortunately although we all feel like we've lost 10 pounds , it doesn't seem to be in the right place as we squeeze in the back seat. The silent driver and owner of the car speaks no english(which is what they all say!) and our "guide" speaks a very few bits but is pleasant. We take off up dirt path I have walked the dogs up, no idea its a "road". Tinted windows down we bump along finally seeing where we are and come to a paved road and off we go, passing an occasional motorbike. Its beautiful as we drive up in the hills with glimpses of the coast. There are afew unfinished dreams in concrete along the way, but mostly small clusters of brightly colored huts surrounded by banana palms, livestock and laundry hung out to dry. We stop for a herd of cows lumbering along the middle of the road, with young caballeros on burros with whips to motivate them on to the next place to graze. I have asked to stop at a bank to change money, and we stop at a bright orange roadside restaurant and our guide and I go talk with a man, who gets a woman with a calculator and they "calculate" for awhile, and then says he will have to go to Luperon with my money to change it. I decline, but in all reality, he probably would have done just that(by burro?) and been waiting for me with the change....there is an innate sense of trust going on here, but I am not ready to chance it. The all-fish menu painted on the wall looks interesting, not sure what they all are, but I see dorado (mahi-mahi) and pulpo(octopus, maybe next time!)
Back on the road, views of mountains and the coastline, beautiful greenery, small banana groves, and we swing into El Castillo to the church at the top of the hill overlooking Isabela. It was built in 1493, when La Isabela was founded by Christopher Columbus. Although the church has seen several remodels over the past 500+ years, the curved brick roof and some original brickwork remain, along with a delightful older gentleman who is the caretaker gave a grand tour, despite what little got to us through our guide, who I don't think had ever been there. The stained glass, from the early 1990s were beautiful, and the building gave off a great deal of presence and history. The views from the tower made you feel as if a tall ship was due into the harbor anytime.
The town of La Isabela, a short drive from the church on the bluffs overlooking the bay was amazing. Of course it comes with a story that in the 1950s under dictator Trujillo, a crew was ordered to "clean up" the site for the visiting Spanish archaeologists. The mostly intact ruins were then bulldozed! Most of the site has been restored to some extent, and a guide walked us through the ruins, again giving a very fast-paced explanation of each area, which only trickled down to us. There were workers using machetes cutting back the growth and piles of rocks, stones, ship ballast neatly mounded along the way. The largest structure/foundation was Chris's house right off the bluff with a perfect view of the entire harbor. And under a small thatched roof was what the guide insisted to be Chris's remains, noting he died of a cold. We left, after I purchased the perfunctory souvenir, a carved offering god. We drove to the beach, where I could spend an eternity wandering in the shallow aqua waters along the reef.
Back to town, past more cows going in the opposite direction down the middle of the road, for the bank/ATM and lunch of, guess what? chicken, beans and rice, and salad. Poor Dave was feeling the beginnings of the gift of the DR, so Rock made up for his failing appetite. Huge plates of food, local laborers crowding in to eat. What a great day! I am glad not to be packed in between the boys in the back seat and happy to be back at the boat.
No fine last supper to send Dave off with tonight, too sick even for a cold Bohemia.
Friday, we are up early to meet Dave's van to the airport. So sorry to see him leave, but no one is any fun once they have the gift of the DR! Time to go home! He was so wonderful during the passage, forced me to learn to tie a bosun's knot, and kept us well entertained at all times.
I am looking forward to us being alone on the boat, and still taking it all in, and getting some sort of routine I can grasp.
Saturday is spent giving Alma a haircut, the clippers fail , and its all scissors, and a long hairy day. I am covered with hair. Max knows his days are numbered, he keeps his distance.
Sunday we trudge up to the Yacht Club for "brunch" and have eggs, strange squash which we are told will grow on us(not sure about that, its bland and in chunks has a texture of babyfood), bacon, crepes, french toast, toast, good local coffee...Well its not the same kind of food, or buffet we are used to but tasty. A great improvement over the inedible hambergesas we tried to eat for lunch one day. We meet expats Marti and Bob, she makes breads,cookies, pies, jams and jellies to sell, and has lived here for several years, built a house overlooking the harbor. Bob is from Nebraska originally, met her in the states 2 yrs ago and here he is, lots of interesting talk. Our whole dock is up eating , and several other boaters arrive. I can see this will be a regular thing for us. We talk with Tom another boater we met in town at Shaggy's Bar earlier in the week. We have become fast friends. Its relaxed and easy and we float back down the stairs to the boat. Each day greets me with something new, each evening greets me with a beautiful sunset over the mountains, anchor lights on, and great breezes, stars aplenty, music spilling down from the YC.
I walk to the next marina, Puerto Blanco, and get a weeks worth of internet, complete with warnings not to Skype 6a-6p, and the best time for server use is 2am-6am. Not me, I will be sleeping well then, thank you. We make our way to Shaggy's Bar for our free rum drink, offered to us on arrival by Lynne who came out to save us in her dinghy. She and her son have purchased the bar , which opened in the fall of last year, and we relax with beer and rum and local banter.
On Thursday, 3/19, we arrange for a car for a trip to El Castillo and La Isabela, not far from Luperon. Well, we go up the 50+ steps to the the Yacht Club at the given time, and do alittle waiting as we haven't quite figured out Dominican Time...and up pulls a battered ancient Camry with two young men.Unfortunately although we all feel like we've lost 10 pounds , it doesn't seem to be in the right place as we squeeze in the back seat. The silent driver and owner of the car speaks no english(which is what they all say!) and our "guide" speaks a very few bits but is pleasant. We take off up dirt path I have walked the dogs up, no idea its a "road". Tinted windows down we bump along finally seeing where we are and come to a paved road and off we go, passing an occasional motorbike. Its beautiful as we drive up in the hills with glimpses of the coast. There are afew unfinished dreams in concrete along the way, but mostly small clusters of brightly colored huts surrounded by banana palms, livestock and laundry hung out to dry. We stop for a herd of cows lumbering along the middle of the road, with young caballeros on burros with whips to motivate them on to the next place to graze. I have asked to stop at a bank to change money, and we stop at a bright orange roadside restaurant and our guide and I go talk with a man, who gets a woman with a calculator and they "calculate" for awhile, and then says he will have to go to Luperon with my money to change it. I decline, but in all reality, he probably would have done just that(by burro?) and been waiting for me with the change....there is an innate sense of trust going on here, but I am not ready to chance it. The all-fish menu painted on the wall looks interesting, not sure what they all are, but I see dorado (mahi-mahi) and pulpo(octopus, maybe next time!)
Back on the road, views of mountains and the coastline, beautiful greenery, small banana groves, and we swing into El Castillo to the church at the top of the hill overlooking Isabela. It was built in 1493, when La Isabela was founded by Christopher Columbus. Although the church has seen several remodels over the past 500+ years, the curved brick roof and some original brickwork remain, along with a delightful older gentleman who is the caretaker gave a grand tour, despite what little got to us through our guide, who I don't think had ever been there. The stained glass, from the early 1990s were beautiful, and the building gave off a great deal of presence and history. The views from the tower made you feel as if a tall ship was due into the harbor anytime.
The town of La Isabela, a short drive from the church on the bluffs overlooking the bay was amazing. Of course it comes with a story that in the 1950s under dictator Trujillo, a crew was ordered to "clean up" the site for the visiting Spanish archaeologists. The mostly intact ruins were then bulldozed! Most of the site has been restored to some extent, and a guide walked us through the ruins, again giving a very fast-paced explanation of each area, which only trickled down to us. There were workers using machetes cutting back the growth and piles of rocks, stones, ship ballast neatly mounded along the way. The largest structure/foundation was Chris's house right off the bluff with a perfect view of the entire harbor. And under a small thatched roof was what the guide insisted to be Chris's remains, noting he died of a cold. We left, after I purchased the perfunctory souvenir, a carved offering god. We drove to the beach, where I could spend an eternity wandering in the shallow aqua waters along the reef.
Back to town, past more cows going in the opposite direction down the middle of the road, for the bank/ATM and lunch of, guess what? chicken, beans and rice, and salad. Poor Dave was feeling the beginnings of the gift of the DR, so Rock made up for his failing appetite. Huge plates of food, local laborers crowding in to eat. What a great day! I am glad not to be packed in between the boys in the back seat and happy to be back at the boat.
No fine last supper to send Dave off with tonight, too sick even for a cold Bohemia.
Friday, we are up early to meet Dave's van to the airport. So sorry to see him leave, but no one is any fun once they have the gift of the DR! Time to go home! He was so wonderful during the passage, forced me to learn to tie a bosun's knot, and kept us well entertained at all times.
I am looking forward to us being alone on the boat, and still taking it all in, and getting some sort of routine I can grasp.
Saturday is spent giving Alma a haircut, the clippers fail , and its all scissors, and a long hairy day. I am covered with hair. Max knows his days are numbered, he keeps his distance.
Sunday we trudge up to the Yacht Club for "brunch" and have eggs, strange squash which we are told will grow on us(not sure about that, its bland and in chunks has a texture of babyfood), bacon, crepes, french toast, toast, good local coffee...Well its not the same kind of food, or buffet we are used to but tasty. A great improvement over the inedible hambergesas we tried to eat for lunch one day. We meet expats Marti and Bob, she makes breads,cookies, pies, jams and jellies to sell, and has lived here for several years, built a house overlooking the harbor. Bob is from Nebraska originally, met her in the states 2 yrs ago and here he is, lots of interesting talk. Our whole dock is up eating , and several other boaters arrive. I can see this will be a regular thing for us. We talk with Tom another boater we met in town at Shaggy's Bar earlier in the week. We have become fast friends. Its relaxed and easy and we float back down the stairs to the boat. Each day greets me with something new, each evening greets me with a beautiful sunset over the mountains, anchor lights on, and great breezes, stars aplenty, music spilling down from the YC.
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