Arrival

Our trip out couldn’t have gone smoother. Okay, it could have gone a LITTLE smoother, but it could have gone much much worse. Our dear neighbor Rena, - one of the 10 most reliable people in the world and, unfortunately for her, one of the most spread out – gave us a ride to Logan airport, where she dropped us off. We arrived at the JetBlue counter early and, upon checking in our 9 bags, they told us the maximum weight for bags to the Dominican Republic was 50 pounds per bag, and 4 of ours were over, barely (53, 55). We were fortunate to be at the airport early, as we opened up our bags and repacked them right at the check-in counter, so that we had 5 bags at exactly 50 pounds. The check-in person also told us that we had been bumped up to an earlier flight to New York, where we would catch the plane to Santiago, in the DR.

Having to catch an earlier plane meant we had to eat dinner faster. Amy’s sister, Linda, had met us at the airport and brought dinner. We hustled into one of the eating areas, wolfed down our food, and headed to the security gates. We each had a carry-on bag, and we had a stroller for Benjamin, and a car seat for the flight and car rides there. We made it through the gate relatively quickly, although I took up several trays with my pocket contents, my laptop, my coat and my sneakers. But they did pull one bag aside – a turquoise backpack that is usually mine, but that Lane had used for this trip. They were looking at the backpack and trying to open one of the front pockets, one on which the zipper has been broken for a couple of years now. I told the woman guard that she was welcome to rip it open if necessary. She finally got it open, and inside was a Swiss army knife. I looked at Lane, and she said she thought it would be useful to have in the Dominican Republic. Lane was very upset, and on the verge of tears. She didn’t realize that it was wrong, and she was embarrassed. We explained it to her, and then asked the guard if we could call Linda, since she was still in the airport, and ask her if she could stop by this gate to pick it up. He said they would hold it for 10 minutes, and after that he couldn’t guarantee it. We tried to reach Linda, but couldn’t contact her cell phone – she must’ve been in a part of the airport where signals were being blocked, most likely a parking garage. We told the man guarding the contraband this and went to our gate. Amy kept trying to reach Linda, and finally got ahold of her. When she did, Linda was driving out of the airport, but said she would come back. Amy went to tell the guard, who said the knife was already gone, but he knew where and would get it for Linda. He also told Amy that normally it would be a lost cause, but he had seen our family and since we are a bi-racial family he felt we were doing God’s work (his phrase) and would help us out. I guess doing God’s work means being armed with Swiss army knives.

The flights were uneventful. We are pretty used to the short flight to NY, the layover in Kennedy Airport, where we enjoyed a wonderful wireless network, and the midnight flight to Santiago. The flight wasn’t crowded, and we had an entire row to ourselves in the back of the plane. For once, the kids didn’t try to watch the individual TVs on the back of each seat on a JetBlue plane and slept instead. When landing, the crew wished Lane a happy birthday over the intercom. We got all our gear and found a taxi quickly for the 4 hour ride to Las Galeras. The taxi driver was very good, and he knew a shortcut we had always wondered about but never taken – either by ourselves or with another taxi – when looking at the maps. We mostly slept on the ride out, or everybody slept except me, who finds it hard to sleep in a car, especially a car driving through a strange country where I want to see so much and especially in a car driving through third world roads with potholes and drivers coming at you and motorcycles spread along the road like some sort of video game.

We got here. No one knew where the house was except me, who had checked it out last spring, and I told the driver where to go. We turned off the only main street in Las Galeras, and pulled up in front of JuanYLolo’s the people who manage the rental properties here. It was early, and I worried about our first personal interaction with them, after months of internet connection, being literally a rude awakening. Fortunately Lolo was up, and she said she was waiting for us, and took us to the house. The house was much bigger than I remembered – 2 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms downstairs, a big loft bedroom with a bathroom upstairs, and a large outdoor living room / porch downstairs, with an indoor kitchen and an outdoor cooking area on the first floor.

It turns out that this house was the former home of Daniel, the man we are renting it from. We have learned that Daniel is a former French and Dominican musician, and that he used to have a disco in this house. There is a beautiful wire sculpture on the front wall of the upstairs loft, with a series of instruments - drums, a bass, a trumpet – and musical notes and flowers all drawn with the wire, all multi-colored. The house, with its many bathrooms and roomy bedrooms and extra mattresses piled up on the back porch, gives the feeling of a ski lodge –a ski lodge on a tropical island.

Lolo asked if it was just us staying here, and she seemed surprised when we said yes.