From: ecl@cbnewsj.cb.att.com (Evelyn C. Leeper)
Subject: Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic (part 2 of 2)
Organization: AT&T
Date: Sun, 8 Nov 1992 19:59:38 GMT
Followup-To: rec.travel

[Followups directed to rec.travel.]

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          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 11



               However, it was worth the effort.  The food was delicious and
          the service excellent.  Mark had dehydrated himself and was drinking
          water in large quantities.  After filling Mark's glass a third time
          in quick succession, the waiter took another glass from another
          table and kept them both filled.  Mark had camarrones rellenos con
          queso; I had the fiesta Cubana: congri, pork, Cuban tamale, arrow
          root, pot roast, ropa vieja, and rice with black beans.  (Normally,
          I don't eat red meat, but when one is traveling and wants to try
          local food, it's hard to avoid.)  All this was under $20 for the two
          of us, but we left a $5 tip for the great service.

               Then back to the room to pack (my dress already has stains from
          where I've been sweating on the leather belt--it really is hot here)
          and turn in early; we leave at 7 AM.

               September 11, 1992:  After a restless night, we were up early
          and checked out by 7 AM.  There was a bit of a traffic jam at one of
          the intersections, perhaps caused by the heavy rain.  At first it
          looked as if everyone was ignoring the light, but that turned out to
          be because there was a policeman directing traffic (unlike in the
          Dominican Republic, where traffic lights are apparently considered
          advisory only and people ignore them all the time).  Once we got
          onto the main road things were easy, because all the traffic was
          headed *into* the city instead of towards the airport.

               We returned our rental car, got checked in, and headed toward
          the gate.  But the air conditioning in that section wasn't working,
          so we stayed in the main terminal until closer to boarding time.

               This leg of our trip was on American Eagle, which is apparently
          the subsidiary of American Airlines that owns all the propeller
          planes.  As a result, we had to check our carry-ons, since there was
          less storage for them, and we had to board from the runway (in the
          rain) instead of through a jetway.  Luckily it wasn't raining too
          hard when we boarded.  Our plane seemed to be something called an
          ATR42, if that means anything to anyone.

               We were supposed to have a snack on this flight, but they
          announced they would not be providing it due to the weather.  I'm
          not sure why not, as it was prefectly smooth at the level we were
          flying (16,000 feet).  The plane left about a half hour late, and
          landed similarly (how much time can one make up on a one-hour
          propeller flight?).  Though it was raining in San Juan, it was
          bright and sunny in Santo Domingo when we landed.

               As is typical of many poor countries, the Dominican Republic
          plays the "soak-the-tourist" game.  A visitor's card (in lieu of a
          visa) is $10 each; the airport departure tax is another $10 each.  I
          suppose it's a way to get badly needed money that they can think
          sink into El Faro (but more on that later).












          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 12



               The only practical way to get from the airport to Santo Domingo
          is by taxi (or rental car--for some reason Mark thought we were
          renting a car here, but we weren't).  There is a bus, but it runs
          only five times a day and only to the central bus stop.  Perhaps
          with a third the luggage we might have tried it, but with a fairly
          heavy carry-on each it didn't seem worthwhile.

               It is a fairly long ride from the airport to town (over a half
          hour and most of that highway driving).  The trip was uneventful
          except for when we almost hit a motorbike which tried to cut in
          front of us.  The taxi fare to our hotel (the Hotel Cervantes) was
          250 pesos, or US$20.  This was considerably higher than the figures
          cited in our various tour books, which were in the US$7-10 range.
          It's a bit confusing, because the symbol for the Dominican peso is
          also "$", so one is often not sure whether a figure printed in a
          book is dollars or pesos, especially since the rate used to be 3
          pesos to a dollar.  Now it's 12.5 pesos to the dollar, and it's a
          bit more obvious.  To avoid confusion, in this log I will spell out
          "pesos" instead of using the symbol.

               We discovered on arriving at the hotel that no one there spoke
          English (which I had suspected when I called to make the
          reservation).  It was recommended by someone on the Net and turned
          out to be a reasonable choice.  It was at least as good as Tres
          Palmas, and at about two-thirds the price (US$42 per night and a *lot*
          cheaper than the fancy hotels just a few blocks over).  It would not
          be so bad, since I can understand Spanish if it is spoken relatively
          slowly, but when I asked people to speak "mas despacio" I detected
          very little difference in speed.  The pace of life on the islands
          may be leisurely, but the speech is not.

               However, we managed and even managed to get directions to a bus
          stop to the Colonial Sector.  But first we ate lunch at the Rally
          Restaurant a couple of blocks away.  It came with garlic bread, as
          had the previous night's dinner--this seems to be standard.  I had
          conch with garlic and Mark had octopus Creole style.  (We also had a
          couple of Pepsis.)  This came to 240 pesos (US$19.20) including tip.
          (The restaurants add a 10% service charge, but you're expected to
          add a bit more as well.)

               After lunch, we walked about six blocks to the bus stop and
          caught our bus to the Colonial Sector.  Our bus was an ex-school bus
          painted red, white, and blue.  It was pretty beat up, but in much
          better shape than the innumerable Volkswagen minibuses which roam
          the streets taking on passengers.  You know how people talk about
          something being an accident waiting to happen?  Well, these
          minibuses looked like accidents that had happened but were still
          rolling.  They are called guaguas.  I don't know if that term is
          also appled to a larger bus like ours.













          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 13



               We got on the bus (which cost 2 pesos or 16 cents) and thought
          we would have to stand until some people already sitting two to a
          seat pushed over to make room for us.  For all the complaints I have
          about a lot of the people we came into contact with, I have to say
          that the ordinary people we met were friendly to us, willing to give
          directions or help us out.  Unfortunately, though, it's the others-
          -the people who see tourists only as an opportunity to make money--
          who made more of an impression on us.  Anyway, very soon we arrived
          at Parque Independencia (which was actually close enough to walk to
          if it wasn't the hottest part of the day) and walked down Calle El
          Conde to the oldest section.  Calle El Conde seems to be the main
          shopping street in that area, closed to vehicular traffic and lined
          with stores.  We got to the plaza just outside the Cathedral of
          Santa Maria the Minor when it started to pour.  So we dashed into
          the cathedral, which we had planned to go to anyway.  This is the
          oldest cathedral in the Western Hemisphere and may or may not
          contain the tomb of Christopher Columbus.  It claims to have him
          buried there, but then so did the cathedral in Seville, and possibly
          also one in Havana.  I suppose if you could visit all three then you
          could definitely say you had seen Columbus's tomb.

               Other than having Columbus there and being old, the cathedral
          was unremarkable.  The rain stopped rather quickly (as usual) and we
          left, planning to give ourselves a quick overview of the historic
          buildings and maybe go into one or two.  This was not to be.  We
          were immediately latched onto by a guide whom we could not shake.
          He kept insisting he was just giving us free advice so we would
          enjoy our stay more.  He talked about how he wanted to be sure we
          were happy, so we would go home and tell other people about it,
          because the Dominican Republic in general and Santo Domingo in
          particular weren't getting a lot of American tourists.  Mark and I
          both considered telling him that one reason more Americans don't
          come here is because they would rather go somewhere where they
          aren't constantly fending off people who want to change money,
          provide taxis, or be a guide, but we decided that would be
          considered rude.  I realize all this may make me sound like an ugly
          American, but I can't help contrast this with a place like Thailand,
          probably equally poor, where people are friendly towards you, happy
          if you use their services, but not put out or overly persistent if
          you don't.

               So we ended up with a guided tour of the Colonial Sector.  I
          can't help but feel that walking around with a guidebook would have
          been as informative.  For one thing, we didn't get to go into the
          Alcazar (the home of Diego Colon and his family), although whether
          we would have in any case is questionable.  When we returned fifteen
          minutes later it was closed, and also closed early (or never opened)
          on Sunday.  Usually in hotter countries things shut down for a long
          lunch and then stay open later (when it's cooler) to compensate.  We
          didn't want to be walking around in the heat of the day, and this
          schedule apparently didn't mesh with the schedules there.  Since











          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 14



          there schedules weren't posted, we have no way of knowing what their
          hours were, of course.

               We had some slight revenge on the guide, though.  He asked how
          we got to the Colonial Sector from where we were staying and we said
          we took a bus (guagua).  What?  A guagua.  After a couple of
          repetitions he finally believed us.  At this point I think he
          realized that he was dealing with *cheap* American tourists and was
          not going to get an enormous tip.  In fact, at the end he suggested
          US$10 or US$20; we gave him 100 pesos (US$8).  This may sound cheap,
          but we had said we didn't want a guide, and he did say he was giving
          free advice.  He also didn't approve of the hotel we were staying in
          and tried to convince us to move to a hotel in the Colonial Sector
          (from whom I suspect he would get a commission).  It was about three
          times the price of ours.  Oh, and we also turned down his offer to
          take us to a good place to buy amber, one of the big products in the
          Dominican Republic, but something we are not at all interested in.

               After this we were hot and tired (we had gotten up about 6:30
          AM), so we walked back to where we had gotten off the bus and tried
          to figure out where to get the return bus.  It was hopeless--there
          were too many buses, none marked, all with drivers shouting
          destinations we didn't recognize.  (It's undoubtedly the reverse
          problem from the one we had in Puerto Rico.  There, we wanted a sign
          saying "Ponce"--the last stop--while here we wanted to know which
          bus was going down a particular street to get to its ultimate
          destination.)  After five minutes we gave up and took a taxi.

               We rested a bit and then went out to the grocery down the
          street for juice and snacks.  (The room here, as in Puerto Rico, has
          a refrigerator.)  After some discussion, we decided to drop the idea
          of taking a bus to La Romana or elsewhere, and instead check on
          getting a tour or renting a car.  And so, with this plan in mind, we
          went to sleep.

               September 12, 1992:  We had breakfast in the hotel coffee shop.
          Service was incredibly slow, but I don't know if that's a cultural
          thing or just this coffee shop.  Our other meals were somewhat
          slower than they might be here, but this was the slowest.  Mark
          ordered French toast, which was more like fried bread.  I ordered
          mangu (mashed plantains).  I had hoped they were sweet plantains,
          but no such luck.  the dish was pretty tasteless except for the raw
          onion garnish (maybe that's why it's there).

               After breakfast we walked to the Cultural Plaza.  This turned
          out to be somewhat further than we expected (because the hotel clerk
          had mismarked on the map where the hotel was), and it was already
          getting hot.  We did find it, but only after asking directions from
          someone.













          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 15



               The Cultural Plaza contains half a dozen museums in a park
          setting.  The Museum of History and Geography was closed, but two
          other museums we were interested in--the Museum of the Dominican Man
          and the Museum of Natural History--were open.  The museums here, as
          in many poorer countries, have a two-tier admission structure:
          Dominicans pay 2 pesos (16 cents); foreigners pay 10 pesos (80
          cents).  This is still quite cheap.

               We went first to the Museum of the Dominican Man.  As Mark
          pointed out later, this focuses almost entirely on the native and
          black heritage.  Perhaps the European influence is covered in one of
          the other museums.  At any rate, this museum covered what is (to me,
          anyway) the more interesting part of the history.  All the exhibits
          were labeled in Spanish only, but I didn't find that a problem,
          though I might have to look up the occasional word in my dictionary.
          (I had brought my basic Spanish dictionary rather than my
          comprehensive one, so most of the time it didn't help anyway.)
          There was a fairly large section on the Tainos, who also inhabited
          this island, and some more on the slave trade with Africa and the
          descendents of the slaves.  There was also a large section devoted
          to the religious beliefs of the various peoples and their
          combinations.  For example, there is a Dominican version of voudon
          (voodoo) as well as santeria and other, lesser known, variations.

               After the Museum of the Dominican Man we went to the Museum of
          Natural History.  This is known more for its collection of Dominican
          insects and birds (mounted and stuffed, respectively) than for any
          broad representation of the Earth's flora and fauna.  (Their stuffed
          lion was particularly silly-looking.)

               When we finished here, we decided to walk over to the big
          tourist hotels a few blocks from our own.  Our of the brochures
          indicated that many of them had tour desks and, as I said, we
          figured at this point that a tour would be a lot easier to cope with
          than public transit, which seemed totally chaotic.  We also hoped to
          find a tour out into the countryside.  They had tours, all right--at
          1000 pesos (US$80) per person to go to Puerto Plata, for example.
          This was written "$1000" and when I commented this was expensive,
          the clerk said, "That's in pesos, you know."  Did he really think I
          thought it was in dollars?

               Having ruled out buying a tour, we decided to rent a car and go
          somewhere on our own.  I checked the phone book in the hotel room
          and discovered there was a car rental place a few blocks away, which
          we also remembered passing on the way to the museums.  So we walked
          there and asked about renting a car for Sunday.  Because they were
          open only until 5 PM on Sunday, we asked if there was some way we
          could drop the car off after 5 PM.  The clerk behind the counter--
          who spoke perfect English and was probably from the United States--
          said we could drop it off at the airport the next morning.  I said I
          would prefer not to, because I didn't want to try to find my way to











          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 16



          the airport in the dark.  He asked where we planned to go, and I say
          we have been thinking of perhaps going to Altos de Chavon or
          someplace like that.  He suggested that hiring a taxi would probably
          be cheaper than renting a car, and when I commented that I had some
          problems with getting lost in Puerto Rico, he said if I got lost in
          Puerto Rico I should definitely not try driving here!  So Mark and I
          decided that made sense and agreed we would hire a taxi the next
          day.  We went back to the room, looked at the brochures from the
          tours a bit more, and decided rather than going out to Altos de
          Chavon, which sounded like it was a bit too non-specific for us
          (it's a reconstructed 15th Century Spanish village that has a lot of
          art galleries, and could well turn out to be the Dominican
          equivalent of an outdoor mall), we would do the half-day tour of the
          eastern part of Santo Domingo, including El Faro de Colon, Tres Ojos
          de Aqua, and the aquarium.  I also figured that would give us some
          time to go back to the Colonial Sector on our own.

               When it got a little cooler (well, all things are relative), we
          went out walking and walked down to the Parque Independencia and El
          Conde Gate (where independence had been declared in 1844).  There
          were men sitting out on park benches talking, kids playing, and in
          general it looked a lot like parks everywhere.  Earlier we had seen
          two men playing checkers near the hotel, but the checkerboard had
          100 squares instead of 64.  I imagine that would make the game more
          complex.

               We then walked back up a different street to the hotel.  By
          walking opposite traffic on the various one-way streets, we managed
          to avoid having all the taxi drivers offer us rides.  We stopped at
          a drugstore and bought three comic books, one for us and a couple
          for a friend who collects them.  (He's particularly fond of Uncle
          Scrooge comics and they had one in Spanish.)  The store had a system
          where you stand in one line and get a slip of paper with the total
          of your purchases on it, then you go to another line to pay.  Mark
          claims this keeps the clerks from mis-charging for the merchandise
          and then pocketing the difference, since the charges are added up by
          a different person than handles the money.  I'm not sure I follow
          this.  If there is one cashier and he rings up the amounts, then for
          the cashier to profit the customer has to pay more than what the
          cash register says.  Although I suppose its possible that they're
          also trying to guard against someone giving a break to a friend, so
          the two cashiers each add up the total and it has to agree.

               We looked at a few restaurants and finally decided on the
          Mesquito.  We both had gazpacho, served here by bringing the broth
          to the table and then adding the finely diced vegetables there.  It
          certainly keeps them crisp.  Mark had camarrones bilbaino (large
          grilled shrimp with a spicy seasoning) and I had asopao de
          camarrones (a sort of stew with shrimp).  Very good, and very
          filling--we had no room for dessert.  Dinner was 520 pesos (about
          US$42 including tax and tip).  This restaurant was on a street











          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 17



          running right in back of the fancy tourist hotels (which also had
          back exits from their grounds), so I suspect it was probably a
          little higher priced than other restaurants elsewhere, but it was
          convenient.  (We never did get to the Maison de Cava, which is a
          restaurant set in a cave.)

               September 13, 1992:  We got up and had breakfast in the room,
          the service from the hotel restaurant being somewhat below par.
          About 9:15 AM we went out and negotiated for a taxi to take us
          around for our planned sight-seeing, at a rate of 120 pesos an hour
          (about US$7.20 an hour).

               Our first stop was El Faro de Colon, the lighthouse they are
          building to honor the 500th anniversary of Columbus's discovery.
          (Well, actually our very first stop was to get gasoline, but that
          doesn't count.  Gasoline, by the way, is about 20 pesos or US$1.60
          per gallon.  The road signs are in kilometers but the gasoline is
          measured in gallons.  In Puerto Rico the distance signs on the road
          are in kilometers, the speed limit signs are in miles, and the
          gasoline is measured in liters.  I wish countries would decide what
          system of measurements they're using, and stick to it!)

               Well, back to the lighthouse.  This is not a practical
          lighthouse, but a showpiece.  It's seven stories high and a half-
          mile long, has a cross-shaped floor plan, and will project a cross-
          shaped beacon into the sky that they claim will be visible as far
          away as Puerto Rico.  It looks like a cross (no pun
          intended!) between a Mexican pyramid and something out of
          BLADERUNNER.  It's also a big waste of money, in my opinion, and in
          the opinions of all the Dominicans who demonstrated and rioted about
          the government spending tens of millions of dollars to build this
          thing when there are still houses in its shadow where the people
          don't have running water.  And apparently when they turn the lights
          on for the cross, the lights in the neighborhood all dim and the
          television pictures go down to a thin ribbon because there isn't
          enough electricity.  It's still not finished and I've heard that a
          lot of the visiting dignitaries who were scheduled to attend its
          opening (on October 12?) have decided to skip it.  Part of the
          problem, of course, is that for 490 years Columbus was a great guy,
          but then as the 500th anniversary approached, people started really
          looking at what he did, and suddenly he was not such a great guy any
          more.

               Then we went to Tres Ojos de Agua (Three Eyes of Water), a
          series of pools in a grotto outside the city.  There are actually
          four pools, but the three inside the grotto are supposedly warm
          sulfurous water, cold fresh water, and lukewarm salt water.  We
          stuck our fingers in a couple of the pools--they all seemed the same
          temperature and they all seemed to taste the same, so the sulfur or
          salt content couldn't have been very high.  The fourth pool is
          accessible only by taking a barge across one of the other pools, and











          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 18



          then walking to an area where the grotto opens up to the sky.  This
          fourth pool is either the largest or the second largest of the four,
          but I guess being outside it doesn't really count.  This open pool
          reminded me of the cenotes we saw in the Yucatan.  There was an
          Italian group there and I can't remember if it was listening to them
          or elsewhere, but somewhere I picked up the information that people
          used to swim in this pool, but the government wanted that stopped so
          they put one alligator in there to discourage the swimmers.

               At the entrance to Tres Ojos there was a stand selling stone
          carvings and a cluster of "official guides."  At least here they're
          more honest: the guide said right up front he was licensed by the
          government but not paid by them, and he charged 150 pesos for giving
          the tour of the caverns, but that included paying for the barge ride
          across the pool.  We thanked him, but said we weren't interested,
          and walked through on our own, admiring the cave and the limestone
          formations.  In some ways reminiscent of the Batu Caves outside
          Kuala Lumpur, these seemed more interesting than those (though
          lacking the brightly colored religious decorations).  The barge
          ride, by the way, was 3 pesos each!

               Our last stop was the aquarium.  I had sort of pooh-poohed
          this, figuring it wouldn't be very interesting, but Mark wanted to
          go and I had nothing better to suggest to do, so we went.  It was
          excellent, certainly the best aquarium for the price (10 pesos or 80
          cents), and one of the best I've seen at any price.  There were a
          lot of well-labeled exhibits in an open pavilion setting (to get the
          breeze, no doubt, but it also meant that the light was very good).
          There were a couple of darker areas for nocturnal species as well.
          Everything was very well labeled albeit in Spanish.  Again, I could
          read almost all of it without the dictionary, and the dictionary was
          only helpful about half the time I used it.  (One thing I discovered
          later was that it was asymmetrical, so that while the English-to-
          Spanish side listed "octopus," the Spanish-to-English side did not
          list "pulpo.")

               After this we returned to the hotel.  The whole morning cost us
          about 400 pesos, or about half what it would have been on the
          organized tour that did the same stuff.  Plus of course we got to
          spend whatever time we wanted at each place.  We also arranged that
          Miguel (the driver) would be at the hotel the next morning at 5 AM
          (ugh!) to take us to the airport for our 7:20 AM flight.  Taxis in
          the Dominican Republic are much more like a combination taxi and
          limo service--not only can you book ahead of time, and hire by the
          hour instead of by the meter (meter? what meter?), but the taxi
          drivers have business cards and specific locations they service.
          Miguel's card, for example, indicates that he is based at the Hotel
          Cervantes.

               I mentioned the taxi had no meter.  It also had no radio (but
          did have a large hole where the radio used to be) and air











          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 19



          conditioning (long since broken).  The doors also didn't work too
          well; I could never get the back door open from the outside, though
          Miguel could, so there must have been a trick to it.

               We rested up until 4 PM and then walked out to try to see the
          Alcazar, which was supposed open until 6 PM, but it was closed.  I
          don't know if it was closed because it was Sunday, closed because
          the hours had been shortened, or closed because the person in charge
          decided to go home early.  (The next morning at 5:30 AM, we could
          see that they light it with floodlights all night.  Maybe that's to
          prevent break-ins, but it's a bit ironic that you can see the
          outside perfectly even in the middle of the night, but can't find a
          time to get in during the day.)  We did take some pictures of the
          House of Cord, which is the oldest house built by Europeans in the
          New World, and where Diego Colon lived while they were building the
          Alcazar.  Our "guide" on Friday hadn't even pointed it out.

               So instead of seeing the Alcazar, Mark and I had our usual
          "where is this country going?" discussion.  We seem to get into this
          philosophical mode at least once each trip.  Mark seems to think
          that all of the Dominican Republic's problems can be traced to a
          surfeit of Catholicism.  I'm not really sure it's that simple, and
          certainly solving the problems aren't simple.  As with many Latin
          American countries, the political situation is not entirely stable
          (the 1990 election had two previous presidents, both of whom had be
          deposed by military coups, running against each other, and our
          "guide" in Santo Domingo said that the chief of police was in jail
          on fraud and bribery charges).  As with many poorer countries, there
          is a surplus of population which makes trying to find solutions even
          more difficult.  But I think one indication of the rough times ahead
          may be people's faith that tourism will save them.  Currently, the
          major industry in the Dominican Republic is agriculture.  The guide
          in Santo Domingo, the people building the lighthouse, the people
          building posh resorts in La Romana and Puerto Plata--all seem to be
          hoping to get a piece of the Caribbean tourist pie.  But as the
          United States economy suffers, and fewer Americans travel overseas,
          and because many of the other islands already have a whole tourist
          infra-structure in place, it seems unlikely to me that tourists will
          flock to the Dominican Republic.  Americans will go instead to
          places like the Bahamas (no need to worry about a different
          language), or Puerto Rico (no need to have a passport or change
          money), or the French West Indies (with a much wilder reputation
          than the Dominican Republic), or a Club Med (which is predictable
          and cheap and isolated from any local problems).  Latin American
          tourists might be more attracted, but even then they have a lot of
          competing choices.

               Would I recommend the Dominican Republic for a vacation?
          Probably not.  I had a specific purpose in going there (which was
          only partially fulfilled).  If I were looking for just a nice island
          to lie on, there would be many I would put higher on the list.











          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 20



          (It's probably worth mentioning that the Dominican Republic doesn't
          even any its own guide books.  All the books we could find in the
          stores that included the Dominican Republic were for "the
          Caribbean."  Puerto Rico has its own books; the Bahamas has it own
          books; a few other islands have there own books.  Mark was perhaps
          rightfully skeptical of spening a vacation in a country that doesn't
          even rate a guidebook.)

               We had dinner at La Reina de Espana, near our hotel.  Like the
          Mesquito the night before, this place was almost empty.  Are we
          eating too early?  Too late?  Are there really *that* few people here?
          (It could be; after all, this is hurricane season, not tourist
          season.)  I had gazpacho and arroz negra con calamares (black rice
          with squid); Mark had onion soup and what was billed as paella, but
          seemed to be a seafood platter, without the rice that I thought was
          necessary for paella.  It was very good, though, and quite
          reasonably priced.  Dinner for both of us, including wine for me,
          was 567 pesos, or about US$45.  I am sure we could find someplace to
          eat that would have been much cheaper, but for our last night we
          wanted to sit in a nice restaurant and have a nice dinner.

               Back in the hotel room, we packed up our stuff.  Our purchases
          in the Dominican Republic totaled six postcards, three comic books,
          and a small pottery figure about the size of a hockey puck.  If the
          Dominican Republic plans on making it on tourism, they probably need
          more tourists who are *not* like us.

               September 14, 1992:  As usual, I had a restless night worrying
          about over-sleeping and missing the plane.  Well, maybe part of it
          was the pillow, which was about three-quarters the thickness I
          wanted.  So I couldn't even double it--then it was *too* thick.

               We went downstairs at 5 AM to check out, and in spite of the
          fact that the hotel was almost empty, there was a tour group in
          front of us checking out.  And the tour manager wanted to see all
          the bills itemized by room, and asked them to move this charge to
          that room, and so on, for twenty-five minutes!  (And there were only
          five of them--the other dozen checked out yesterday!)  Finally our
          turn came and we took less than five minutes.

               The airport is quite a ways from town.  I was glad we hadn't
          rented a car with the intent of returning it at the airport this
          morning, because so far as I could tell, there were no signs
          indicating which road led to the airport.  But of course Miguel knew
          how to get there, so we had no problem and were at the airport by
          6:15 AM.

               During the day the traffic signs and lights seem to be taken as
          advisory only.  At night they are ignored altogether.  I assume that
          Miguel checked the side streets before going right through the red
          lights, but he didn't slow down at all as far as I could tell.











          Caribbean Travel Log            1992                         Page 21



               Even in the airport we had the usual problem.  Two young men
          insisted on carrying our luggage in and then wanted a tip.  I
          offered them two pesos, which they felt insulted at.  I explained
          (in Spanish, no less) that it was all I had left.  They said
          American money would be fine.  So I explained I had no small bills
          (again, in Spanish).  Still they followed us around until we finally
          ditched them by going through immigration where they couldn't
          follow.

               I had hoped to buy a newspaper to catch up on what was going on
          with the world.  I had caught a glimpse of a headline saying Bush
          declared Kaui a disaster zone, so assumed there had been a hurricane
          there, but wanted to get more information.  There were no newspapers
          in the international section of the terminal.  I did get a cup of
          coffee (US$1--bye-bye, bargains).

               Our flight to San Juan was on a jet (sorry, Mark), and during
          our lay-over there I picked up a couple of newspapers, one in
          Spanish and one in English (so we could both read).  The Spanish one
          had a long article in the travel section about Egypt and a cruise on
          the Nile, which I read with great interest, since it brought back
          memories of our trip to Egypt.  I wish I could understand what it is
          that makes me unable to speak Spanish, when I can read it perfectly
          well.  (As far as understanding it when it is spoken, I'm in a
          middling position.  I can comprehend what is said, but I have
          difficulty framing it in English.  So if Mark and I are watching a
          horror movie in Spanish on television out of New York, I can follow
          it, but can't really give him a good translation.)

               Our flight to Newark was uneventful.  The car was a little hard
          to start (well, it's getting old), but did start and we returned
          home in time to stop by the Post Office and pick up our mail.  Then
          the next day it was back to work and time to start planning for our
          October trip to the Southwest!  In 1990 we went to Europe over Labor
          Day and southeast Asia in October; now we're doing this same
          craziness this year.  I can't say I really recommend it.


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