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.