In Which I Get To A Computer, Finalmente!

Hello, dear readers (i.e., mom)!

At long last, we have reached a point in our journey where computer access is once again a viable option. Not that it wasn't available elsewhere, but I've been on vacation for the last week, and when on Peace Corps vacation, internet isn't high on the list of activities. But what, you may ask, WAS on the list of activities? I'm so glad you asked.

Kate, Denny (Kate's brother), and I arrived in Santiago late last Thursday. Due to the general Dominican efficiency (Evan and Kate, I believe, have much to discuss in terms of compare/contrast), it took us about three hours to get out of the airport, between customs, waiting for our luggage, and then successfully physically leaving the airport. All this activity took place inside one large airport room, so the general feel was of smooshing ourselves into vaguely different areas as directed by vague handwaves of those seemingly in charge until we all of a sudden found ourselves and all our luggage outside. Tadaaaaa!!

The PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Place To Stay in Santiago is called The Hub, a hostel-like house specifically built for volunteers and their friends by an extremely generous and friendly Canadian couple. Before the Hub, they had informally let PCVs crash on the floor of their own house, which had resulted in a total influx of volunteers and their friends, family, etc., to the point where they could no longer handle the load and gave them their own abode. Lovely.

The next day we headed off to Veinte Siete Charcos, or 27 Waterfalls, a peace corps project and rapidly growing tourist site. This was an absolutely amazing venture. The three of us got off a bus seemingly in the middle of nowhere, with a tiny little town right across the street. After speaking some rapid-fire Spanish, Kate directed Denny and I to dump our three thousand pounds of luggage in some random house on a random bed, which she explained used to be the room of a volunteer who had recently moved and no longer lived there. Yes, exactly.

Kate then arranged a guide for our quaint group of three, one of the many available in their official Veinte Siete Charcos shirts in a shaded patio by the road. He led us off down a dirt road and through a small footpath until we reached the official beginning site, where we were outfitted with life preservers and helmets (we were GAW-geous). Another group of four PCVs + friends were close behind and so our two groups merged into one for the adventure. And so, properly outfitted in safety-suits-of-hotness and three guides leading the way, we were off!!

The beauty of the entire water hike is better said in pictures, as in, you know all those pictures of tropical waterfalls that are so ridiculous in their sublimity one is convinced they must be fake? Well that's this place. Of course, I spent a great portion of the trip staring at my feet in an effort to stay upright over all the rushing waters and slippery rocks, but the times I looked up, oh MAN, what a sight!! I think perhaps the guides thought I might have been a bit, erm, more special than the rest, as I generally lagged way behind and could not seem to look anywhere but my feet, and they kept asking if I was okay with very, very concerned looks. I just tried to explain that I was like the tortoise, and slow and steady wins the race, but apparently my spanish leaves something to be desired as that only gave them more concern for my sanity.

As PCVs et al., we got to go all the way to the top, to the 27th waterfall, whereas the general practice was to take tourists to the 7th then back down. Therefore, we spent an hour or two scaling up the waterfalls by clamboring over rocks, being hoisted up ropes by our extraordinarily fit guides, swimming through small channels of turquoise waters, etc. etc. Our guides themselves were in their early twenties, and knew the waterfalls like the backs of their hands, and tended to acrobatically swing their way up and down the falls, accompanying their antics with deep bull-like moos and bird calls. One of our group, a muscular Dominican himself, joined right in with monkey hoots, duck quacks, and a Tarzan yell, all in all contributing towards quite the entertaining display as the rest of us awkwardly struggled our way up the topography (and were secretly grateful for the less-than-daring safety equipment adorning our unexperienced selves). The top of the climb found us at the bottom of an intimidating drop, which those who weren't me scrambled to the top of in order to jump down into a thimble sized pool of deep water. My legs turned to jelly just watching. Luckily, there was a total lack of injuries and death. Whew!

Getting down was exhilirating. We jumped down from all sorts of heights into the pools below (though none so high as that at the top, thank goodness), slid down natural slides, rapelled down a few rock faces, and, like on the way up, tried not to slip and fall too much on the straightaways. The last step was a triumphant leap into a giant pool below, and it all seemed over way too soon. Those of you who ever come to the D.R., GO HERE. So awesome!!!

And so, wet, happy, and a mite bit peckish, we gathered our things and all seven of us took off for Cabarete, our New Year destination, in a guagua.

Vocabulary Sidenote: GUAGUA ~n~ a general term for bus-like vehicle of public transportation, varying in size and comfort level. At best, a large, roomy bus. At worse, a van with 13 seatbelts and 20+ passengers.

Guagua #1 was a nice little bus. I was able to take a short little nap with my bag, brought to an abrupt end by my concerned Dominican co-passenger yelling "WAKE UP AMERICA!!!" in my ear to inform me I didn't have to keep my bag on my lap, I could seat it next to me as there was room.

Guagua #2, not so nice. I think we counted 24 passengers on the small van at one point, and all of us had overloaded bags of luggage on our laps, and also could not breathe, and also had to get out and get back in every time we made one of the many, many stops, where we would let out one person (who was inevitably squished in a corner in the way back) in order to make room for the 8 people waiting to board. Relief, relief, I tell you, when we finally made it to our hotel.

And ooooh, our hotel was so NICE! And CHEAP! It's AMAZING how prices go down when a suite meant for two houses seven!! What with the air mattress, double bed, fold out fouton, and fold out chair, we were set for a New Year's to remember. Besides Kate, Denny, and I, we were staying with Kate's friends Kristina, Samantha, Greg, and Dominic, all completely wonderful people. Apparently almost the entirety of the D.R. Peace Corps was in Cabarete for New Years, so besides those staying in our delightful be-kitchened suite, I met what felt like three zillion other volunteers throughout our short stay. Needless to say, Cabarete was a fun-filled three day party, and a great place to spend the New Year. Highlights:

~ The Beach. It was so, so nice to once again be in a hot, beachy climate, and get all sandy and salty and sunned.

~ The Pool. Great alternative to the beach when we didn't feel like going any farther than downstairs.

~ Favorite Restaurant: Jose O'Shay's, Cabarete's premiere Irish Beach Bar. They had fantastic nachos (cheese, it seems, is pretty touch and go here), guinness, and tropical beverages presented in coconut shells and hollowed-out pineapples.

~ Pancakes. As PCVs are not rich as a rule, we made pancakes in our little kitchen every day. Aunt Jemima, I tell you. That woman is a genius.

~ The Casino. We went gambling! It was the first time I've ever gone, and after much effort was made getting everyone together and calling a taxi etc., we were driven approximately three doors down to the premiere casino of Cabarete (I swear, it was exactly like the opening scene of L.A. Story...). It was a one room operation, and after Kate and I had gambled away our 100 pesos (i.e. $2.85) on slot machines in one cent increments, we decided the world of chance was not for us and we left the serious gamblers behind to walk the three feet back to our hotel to worship the glories of trash tv.

~ New Years Eve! After some massively fun preparations, the entirety of the peace corps gathered in our small hotel apartment and about half an hour before midnight, we all made our way out to the beach, where music was blasting, fireworks were being set off (and Kate got hit in the leg by an overzealous miscreant... luckily no harm done), and it was generally a hugely rambunctious party.

Ahhh, Cabarete. What a time. Soon enough, all volunteers filtered out, back to their sites and their work. Kate, Kristina, Denny and I stayed until the 2nd before we, too, bid adieu, and boarded a guagua to Rio de San Juan.