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Left for the Cathedral at about 6:15 AM – we were the first to arrive there. We loaded up the Cathedral bus, weighing each piece of luggage first. Sheree is definitely a contender for the “Most Valuable Player” award for having that postal scale. Andi’s bag was a couple of pounds over 70, which is the absolute maximum allowed – so we took some food out and distributed it among our bags. I took two bags of almonds. Emily, Smith’s mother, rode along with us in the bus to the airport. I blew a kiss to Rick as we pulled out of the parking lot, saying a silent prayer that God would watch over both of us while we were apart. Although I am very excited about the trip, I am quite nervous that my digestive system might be in for “Mr. Toad’s wild ride,” as I recall the experiences of previous travelers to the Dominican Republic, which included hating the food, incessant nausea and diarrhea, and even dehydration that required a hospital visit. I decided to leave my stomach where it belongs, and get it out of my head …
At the airport, Kathy and Joe were waiting at the curb.
Kathy is wearing a church shirt, as I am. Guess that the others didn’t get the
memo. For the first time in the history of the airport, a porter was not
available, so Sheree flung the bags out of the back of the bus and I put them
upright up on the curb. With two big bags each, there is a lot of stuff,
including the bag that we
dubbed “Big Red” which is carrying 69.5 pounds (we
hope) of supplies. Karin, who’s flying First Class, went in to see if we could
all check in with her. We can – excellent! Each bag was exactly as we had
weighed it using Sheree’s scale – excellent! Two of the bags where over 50
pounds, as expected, so Andi paid the overage fee of $25 each. As we checked
in, some began to notice that their tickets said “First Class.” That, however,
was not the case for all of us. As it turned out, Kathy and I, the two bound
for Santo Domingo and who had actually paid more than the others because we
purchased our tickets later, ended up in row 23, with the other four in First
Class. Hmmm … I’m going to get some mileage out of this one …
They boarded first, naturally, and Kathy and I were able to
give them each a salutation as we schlepped our stuff back to row 23. Short
flight – 38 minutes. First Class was served drinks – steerage, nada. Arrived
in Miami. Fortunately, our amigas in First Class didn’t ditch us (since they
were the first off and we were in the back). One of them commented that we took
soooo long to get off the plane that they thought we had gone out another way.
We arrived in “D” concourse and naturally had to go to “A” concourse.
At least
a 20 minute walk (but not if you are Smith, who clearly could have done it in 8
minutes flat if she didn’t have all of these old women with her). After our
expeditious walk to Concourse A, we stood in a group in the middle of the
walkway in front of A16 and took turns using the restroom, while the others
watched the bags. That’s when we found out that the inspiration for Smith’s
sprint was that she had to tinkle. Someone commented about the tiny gold
crucifix around my neck. I raised my hand to it and explained that it was a
gift from my Godson, John, at his christening. I quickly explained the
nightmare of John’s death at 19 and how I no longer consider things a “right of
passage,” because it has become very clear to me that not all kids pass through
safely. I wiped a tear from my cheek, Kathy said a blessing for our trip, and
then we were on our way to the gate. The others headed up to the Admiral’s
Club, but apparently were turned away (even without the riffraff from row 23 -
hah!) …
On our way to Santo Domingo. Flight was under two hours (we had sodas and pretzels – but they were already out of Sprite, naturally). We found out later that the others had full dinners … Hmmm … Arrived in Santo Domingo a couple of minutes ahead of schedule. While walking from the plane, I discovered that my carry-on bag was totally soaked in one corner. Must be a leak in my water bottle. As we continued to make our way, it dripped onto my pants and onto my left shoe. The left side of my pants was pretty moist by the time that we picked up our bags on the carousel. Zipped through all of the lines and, surprisingly, our bags came out first. Gracias a Dios! (Thanks be to God!)
Out in the gallery and looking for Karen. They actually have ropes up on both sides to keep a clear passage way. Made it out all of the way to the street, through the sea of taxi drivers, and no Karen. I don’t know how we could have missed her, since she is about 5’10” with auburn hair. Left Kathy, with two carts piled high with bags, and headed back in for another look. Nothing. Came back out. No sign of her. Went back in again and then came back out and tried to call her on Kathy’s cell phone. No service in this area. Rats! By now I am starting to feel a little uneasy. What if no one is coming for us? How will we get to Santiago to meet up with the rest of the group? My mind is racing with possible scenarios and I am very grateful that Andi, our group leader, had provided us with itinerary details and contact numbers. OK – so, we can call the church number in Santiago if we have to. Headed back in and spied Karen – she had just gotten there. Headed outside to introduce her to Kathy and flag down the driver. The original plan had been for the four of us to take the public bus from Santo Domingo to Santiago. I had just gotten word yesterday that Karen had been able to hire a van and driver for the trip. (Karen, who I have known for many years, has lived in the Dominican Republic for about a year and a half. She was a member of one of the first mission teams from St. Peter’s that came to the Dominican Republic. Basically, she walked way from her life, as she knew it, to be a missionary in the Dominican Republic. She left her job at All Children’s Hospital and sold her condo in St. Petersburg to be the administrator of the “Hogar” a 32-bed elder care facility that is being built by the Episcopal Church.) Karen’s friend, Yvonne, from Holland, was up exchanging money (which Andi had specifically instructed Kathy and me not to do at the airport because it would take too much time. Hmmm ….). Kathy and I stayed with the van driver as he tried to squeeze our massive bags into the back of the van, which was already loaded with Karen and Yvonne’s luggage and various car repair items (jack, cables, etc.) that I was desperately hoping would not be needed. Barely, just barely, able to get everything in. Surely he was wondering what we were doing with all of this baggage! He’s probably seen people move with less stuff … Anyway, he closed the hatch and we piled in. It was great to see Karen and hear the latest of her escapades. The Hogar is coming together, even though progress has been a lot slower than she originally thought. It should be ready for patients in another month or two. Yvonne is terrific, especially coming all the way from Holland to help with VBS! Karen and Yvonne met during language immersion training in Guatemala.
Along the way, I noticed that a lot of the streets don’t have lines on them. There is typically about 2.5 lanes, which can be anywhere at any time. Clearly driving here involves considerable honking, and a familiarity of road narrowing areas (e.g., bridges, overpasses, etc.) is an advantage because you best not get caught in that .5 lane as the bridge approaches … We also noticed that at some busy intersections there were men selling things – cashews in Ziploc bags, cell phones, and everything in between. Just after passing one of these intersections, a guy passed us on the right, honking madly, and hanging out his car door. So, I’m thinking, this guy has totally lost it! Then someone yelled “The back is open!” Turned around and sure enough, the back of the van had popped open. Naturally, we’re in the left lane and we need to be in the right lane to pull over. We make our way over. No doubt that at least one of our bags has fallen out, been recovered by one of the street vendors, and sold by now. The driver and I jumped out to survey the situation. Much to my surprise all of the bags remained in exactly the same position that we had placed them – even the two carry-on bags which were perched precariously on top of the giant bags. Surely, the physics of the situation should have caused these two bags to fly out the back door. Gracias a Dios! – Another God moment.
It wasn’t long before we experienced our next “God moment” when we stopped at a gas station. Much to our surprise, our driver didn’t stop the engine as he filled up the van. Kathy and I shifted nervously in our seats as we considered the possible results of this activity. I quickly muttered, “Father, protect us” under my breath and found myself humming an excerpt from one of Lois Johnson’s favorite hymns, “I want to see the brightness of God … I want to look at Jesus …” Yes, but I wasn’t planning on getting my ticket punched today …
We stopped along the way at a roadside stand and Karen & Yvonne bought some snacks, including coconut popsicles, which looked really good. I was a little leery about eating anything and then having to get back in the van and ride for an undisclosed amount of time. Even though I felt fine, I decided to err on the cautious side. I had previously disclosed my intolerance for black pepper to the others in the airport and they were already probably thinking – yeah, this is going to be a fun week ... At least I’d like to make it to the church before everything heads south, literally. Kathy and I each had a bite of fried cheese – excellent.
When we arrived in Santiago, Karen called Father Almonte on her cell phone and then handed it to the driver so that he could be given directions. This procedure was repeated at least four times, and yet we continued to be completely lost in Santiago. Along the way, we stopped in two gas stations and interrupted a game of dominoes to ask for directions. The domino players pointed fingers in the direction from which we had come – but our driver still continued along a crater-filled road, trying to navigate between “pot” holes that could easily swallow a Volkswagen. I thought about my own little Saturn and that one trip down this road would surely be followed by a trip to Bob Lee’s for a wheel alignment (and potentially a new set of tires). We finally turned off of this alleged road and stopped in front of a church (the driver half trying to convince us that perhaps this was really the church that we were seeking). He consulted someone who was standing nearby, who pointed, indicating that we needed to turn onto that road we had just left. OK – round 2 on that road. The road, although actually quite straight, required that the driver navigate it as if it was a slalom course – driving off of the left side and then swinging over to the right side to avoid a giant crater – similar to what the Olympic downhill skiers had done in Sestriere. We crossed the intersection with the main road and the road began to improve markedly. Apparently we had turned left instead of right off of the main road. We continued driving until we were flagged down by a nicely-dressed gentleman standing on a street corner. Before I knew what was happening, the door of the van was flung open and the man jumped in. I guess after four calls and no arrival, Fr. Almonte thought it wise to send out a personal sentinel to guide our way. Good thinking!
We arrived at La Anunciacion just before 7 – about 1.5
hours later than expected, and were greeted by a small army of enthusiastic
children. After getting our bags up three flights of terrazzo stairs, we were
hurried back downstairs for a church service – they were waiting for us. The
rest of the group, who had flown directly to Santiago, was still out grocery
shopping. The church is a lovely space, with beautiful stained glass windows
behind the altar. Seats are wooden pews for flexible seating. No cushions, no
kneelers. The children eyed us curiously, expressing shy smiles. The rest of
our group arrived and moved into the pews across from us.
The music was upbeat and enthusiastic. Everything is repeated. The biggest surprise was during the peace, when every member of the congregation literally embraces every other member with “La Paz” (The Peace). There was a flurry of activity and I totally lost track of who I had hugged, but clearly they kept good track of it and the peace continued until everyone was covered. I can see how this could take a while in a large church!
At some point during the service we were joined by a swarm of mosquitoes. I was quite startled when I felt a good slap on my back. I spun around and the gentle lady behind me whispered “Mosque” and nodded. I smiled, tried to catch my breath, and whispered, “Gracias.” Children and adults alike continued swatting the “mosques” for the rest of the service. Clearly, it was completely part of their normal routine. Dusk = mosques, but to an outsider, it was rather comedic and I found myself trying not to laugh, especially during Father Almonte’s sermon!
About 8:30 we went upstairs for dinner. Kathy and I were
starving by then, as the last thing we had eaten were those pretzels on the
plane for “lunch.” After dinner we chatted with Fr. Almonte and his family. We
noticed a large, green lizard on the wall in the dining area, up close to the
ceiling.
He was bright green and at least 14 inches long. He could have easily
wandered in through any of the jalousie windows because none of them have
screens. I wonder if there are other family members traveling with him (perhaps
he is the baby?). Note to self: be sure to keep that suitcase zipped. Don’t
want this guy surprising me …
By now the power was out, which appears to be a frequent occurrence. As it was explained to us, there are several people who hook up to the power lines illegally and thus, do not pay for electricity. Because of this, the power company is actually supplying a considerable amount of power that they are not being paid for. As a result, they can’t afford to keep the power flowing all day and thus, there are rolling blackouts. My challenge was that I hadn’t unpacked my suitcase yet and so I hadn’t located my flashlight. After routing around in my suitcase in the dark for a while, Kathy brought her flashlight over to help me find mine. Ah, success. We began blowing up our air mattresses in semi-darkness, as there was a little light that was streaming into our sleeping area from the dining area, which had a single bulb that was on backup power (whatever that means here).
Getting ready for bed and took my first shower here. Good thing that I found my flashlight because I positioned it on the high window ledge in the shower so that I could kind-of-sort-of see what was going on. I’m sure from the other direction it must have appeared as a scene from the movie “Psycho” as my silhouette was cast onto the shower curtain in the dim lighting. No matter – the shower was a short one as there is no hot water. Not because of the lack of electricity to heat the water, but due to the lack of a water heater which apparently was “removed” by a former resident. Definitely a “Little House of the Prairie” shower … complete with turban. Tried to sleep – but just couldn’t with all of the activity outside – barking dogs, car alarms, music, shouting, a possible gun shot (at which point Sheree yelled “Oh s@#t!”) … I’m lying here, in the darkness on my pool raft, thinking “What have I done? Why did I come to this place?” I miss Rick terribly and keep going over the words that I had used to reassure him – “It’s only for a week. I can do anything for a week.” Now I am not so sure. Finally fell asleep to be awoken by a rooster at 3 AM.
