So remember last post when I said "dinner was quite the experience?" Well let me tell you all about it.
I was wondering around the beach front in the evening, looking for a cheap dinner and a nice view to people watch and see the sea. I perused through several menus and finally settled on La Perlita, which seemed to be a pretty happening little outdoor restaurant owned by a Spainiard (Spain will always have my heart when it comes to my stomach). In any case, I found myself a cozy little table and took a seat. Not too long afterwards, a gentleman from the next table called over to me, "Are you American?"
"Yep," I smiled back, partly at the question, partly at his Southern drawl.  I hadn´t heard one of those in a long time.
"See," he said proudly to his companions, three fair-haired chaps and brunette girl who all chuckled good-naturedly at their friend´s obvious delight. "We were debating, but I bet that you were American. Would you like to come join us?"
I paused for a mili-sec....don´t get into cars with strangers!...but the pre-school advice drilled into my brain didn´t seem seem to apply. 
"Sure, I´d love to."

Best decision ever.

We chatted and dined, and come to find out, what I had originally assumed to be a family on vacation was actually the crew for a private yacht that had sailed down from Florida. Get out of town!  The crew themselves came from all over the southern U.S. (meaning they all had beautiful southern accents) They were hired full time by the owners of Caterpillar (the machine company), and when they weren´t sailing around the world, which they spent 3-5 months out of the year doing, they maintained the fleet, yes fleet, of boats that the CAT owners docked in Florida. In fact, currently, they didn´t just sail down with a yacht, they had also brought down a large sport fishing boat and a smaller "fountain" boat. All of these crewed by just 5 people. Currently, all of their boats were docked at Casa de Campo, the ritzy country club/resort in la Romana, but they had driven over to Bayahibe for dinner tonight to get some local flavor. Needless to say, I thought this was the coolest thing ever. 
At the end of the night they kindly payed for my dinner and asked if I would like to go sailing with them in the next couple days. In my mind, my jaw was doing the cartoon equivalent of dropping to the floor while fireworks exploded in the background and my feet began to dance an Irish jig. In real life I thanked them all and replied that I would love to. I walked home with a smile as wide as the Florida panhandle on my face and a number to call in my pocket. 

The next day I called and it was decided they would come pick me up the following morning on their "little" boat and we would sail out to Catalina island.  So the following morning I donned my finest swimsuit (haha) and flip flops and strolled around the beach front lazily in the morning while waiting for my ship to arrive and carry me away.

The crew arrived shortly to sweep me off into the wild blue yonder....but not before treating me to a seafood and pizza lunch. Southern gentlemen really know how to treat a girl right. Fueled up, we were ready to hoist in the anchor and set sail. 

John, the yacht captain, had some electrical wiring to do back on the yacht, so Jason (driving the boat currently) piloted us back to Casa de Campo to drop him off and then when we were on our way. 

We cruised up to the shore of Catalina island, but as the water was shallow, we couldn´t pull up to the beach. Instead, Jason dropped anchor and pulled out the fancy snorkel gear. Then we threw ourselves overboard to swim to the island. (I had to depart with the camera at this point.)
Except I totally Tom Hanksed it, like in Castaway, and crashed into some coral. 
Checkout minute 55-56 of the link below....it happened just like that:
http://megashare.info/watch-cast-away-online-TWpFNU5BPT0

For real. Not even kidding. That´s what happened. 
Ok, maybe I´m being a bit over dramatic. The real story is that we ended up snorkeling up to a rocky/coral-y part of the beach.  I was trying to take my flipper off when a nice little wave washed me backwards against the coral where I managed to scrape up my lower back and elbows and tear a nice little gash in my finger. To make matters worse, it was extremely difficult to stand up since the waves kept knocking me back over and I was flopping around like a beached whale with my flippers on. 
How embarrassing.
Luckily Jason was there to rescue me.
Unluckily, I was bleeding profusely. Jason quickly offered to swim back to the ship for the medical equipment.
Not too far down the beach was a crowd of people, tourists, partying under a large tiki hut. It looked like a gathering of multiple tour groups, so while Jason snorkeling back, I decided to make my way over there to see if I could get a band-aid, since I was getting tired of holding pressure on my finger.
Although my injuries were very minor, by the time I made it to the tiki hut, blood was streaming down my arms and legs from the scrapes on my elbows and back and my finger was leaking blood everywhere. Judging by the worried faces of the staff when I arrived, I probably looked like a multiple stab wound victim or possibly like I´d just had a battle with a shark, since they hurriedly shuffled me to the back of the hut away from the partying tourists. 
Then they kindly poured stinging alcohol into my wounds (ouch)and bandaged me up good as new. 
I arrived back to the beach just as Jason was making his way to shore. 
We walked the length of the beach and back, just to check out the surroundings; layed in the sun for a smidge; and then, feeling parched, snorkeled back to the boat.  It really was a lovely little island...just not so good for swimming. 

Anchor´s away!

Farewell Catalina! 

P.S. here are some pics of the offending coral cuts o my back and finger....snapped later in the day. 

After sailing through some mildly rough seas, we were soon docking next to the rest of the Bluewater Cat ships. 

We hopped off and I got the full tour, from bow to stern, through the multiple bedrooms, the galley (kitchen), salon (living room), and even the engine room of both the multimillion dollar yacht and equally impressive sport fishing boat. 

They also let me sit in the Captain´s Seat.....

And drive the boat!!

Honestly, I don´t know what they were thinking. 
Next up, I was getting a golf court tour of Casa de Campo and Los Altos de Chavon.
Los Altos de Chavon is a small village built in the 1970s in the style of an ancient Roman town. Sitting on a cliff overlooking the Chavon river, this picturesque little site is now home to ritzy art vendors and a smattering of high class restaurants. 

The village even boasts an old Roman ampitheatre that to this day hosts famous artists from around this word for live concerts. 

See that building hanging off the cliff there in the picture below. That's where the crew decided to take me to eat later in the evening. Truly, they spoiled me rotten. 

We headed back to the ships to wash up (for me this included brushing my hair and throwing on a swipe of chapstick) and then it was back to one of the fanciest  restaurants I've ever been in, "The Club",  for dinner. 

Look at those handsome faces. True southern gentleman every one of them.

For a sea-faring crew from Florida and LA (lower Alabama!), I quickly discovered that they were all land lovers when it came to food.  Steaks all around. 

The night ended with a mooonlight boat ride back to Bayahibe, and although I insisted I could take a taxi back no problem, they woudn't hear of it: "I don't know how they do things over here, but in the South, we make sure our ladies get home safely."  I was even escorted to my hotel door. 

I crawled  into bed and almost had to pinch myself to make sure the whole day hadn't been a dream. Turns out, everything you've ever heard about Southern hospitality is true and chivalrous gentleman still do exist. Thank you so much to the Bluewater Cat crew for an incredible day. 

I arrived in Bayahibe late Sunday afternoon. The guagua dumped me in the middle of town and  I wondered around the winding streets (only mildly lost), until I found my hotel. 

Bayahibe really is quite small and it didn't take me long.
The hotel, much to my happiness,  is more like a set of apartments than it is a hotel (hence the name Aparta-Hotel Villa Baya), each room coming complete with a kitchenette, free wifi, cable tv, nice stone floors, and the cremé de la cremé? a beautiful balcony. By far the best hotel of my trip, and the most economical to boot at $30 USD a night. 

I ditched the suitcase and headed off to scout out the town and the beach as I like to get my bearings on a place right off the bat. 

After sufficient perusal (you can traipse through the whole town in less than 20 minutes) I stopped for a nice little treat of fresh lambí....

....and grabbed a Presidente to take back to my balcony. Might as well put it to good use after all!

Alarmed by the grumbling of my tummy later in the evening, I made my way back towards the beach in search of some dinner. 
There´s just something beautiful about anchored boats sleeping at night time. 
Dinner actually turned out to be quite the experience...but I´m not going to tell you what happened. Not yet anyways. I´ll save that surprise for next post.  

In the meantime, I´ll allay you with my adventures the following day. As always, I rolled out of bed with the sunshine and headed to the beach. Bayahibe is actually more of a bay than a beach, used primarily for anchoring fishing boats and launching katamarans full of tourists to the nearby islands of Saona and Catalina.

Turns out, mornings are all hustle and bustle on this beach, so my original plan of a nice long rung in the sand was thwarted. I don´t much like running when there are lots of people about. 

I just whipped out my book instead (never leave home without one!), and caught some rays as I enjoyed the goings on around me. 
I spent most of the day just taking it easy, but by mid afternoon I was jonesing for a new adventure. A quick google search of things to do in the area and I was off on the first motoconcho I could find for la cueva Padre Nuestro. 

A little background info here: La cueva Padre Nuestro is located in El Parque Nacional del Este. Before going there you have to get a wristband and entrance pass (200 pesos) from the park tourist center (a little building located where all the big tourist buses park near the beach). Then grab a motoconcho to take you to the park for 100 pesos. You could have him drop you off at the park entrance if you want (its about a half mile hike from the park entrance to the cave), or you can have him drop you off right at the cave entrance. 

The entrance of the cave is actually a bit intimidating, staring up at you lie a giant black mouth waiting to swallow you up. But it´s also a bit daring, promising adventures and hidden treasures. Maybe buried pirate gold or the Lost Ark of the Covenant, just  like something out of an Indiana Jones movie.

After carefully picking your way down steep stone steps into the dark pit.,  you will  hear strange squeaking sounds and catch glimpses of movement flapping rapidly in a blur past your eyes. Throw your arms up wildly and shield your head! You´re about to be attacked by a swarm (flock? pack?) of murderous vampire bats!
Wait. False alarm. 
It´s actually just swallows. You know, the bird. Turns out they like caves about as much as bats do and make their nests in the rocky crevices in the cave roof. 
Anyways, by now your eye sight should be adjusting, and what was once a dim black hole is slowly evolving into something beautiful. You probably aren´t going to find any pirate booty here, but what you will find is something just as precious: deep blue waters smooth as glass, reflecting the cave back up at you like a mirror. 

As the fuzzy black edges around the corners of your vision further clear away,  you´ll realize that this little underground pond is actually much bigger than you first imagined...extending far back into deep, shadowy corners and eerie bends. 

Once you´ve absorbed the silence for long enough , it´s time to head back to the light. 

I opted to walk back through the National Park and take in the naturaleza.

I made it out to the high way and bummed a bola (ride) off a kid on a moto heading back for Bayahibe. (only about a mile or so away)

In the evening I headed off to one of the beachfront bars to enjoy a drink and some free wifi. 

I didn´t realize I was going to get a light show as well....

Honestly. Just breathtaking. 

But I was one tired puppy and headed to bed shortly after the sun did. 

After a scrumptious fresh caught fish lunch, I packed up my meager belongings and headed to the bus stop to catch a guagua to Samana. One leaves every 15 minutes and I happened to catch one just as it was pulling out of the "station."  I was the only passenger on the bus. 
This did't completely shock me, since I knew the chofe (chauffer/driver) would stop and pick up more passengers along the route. 
What did shock me though, was that he stopped to buy shoes.
Not even joking. 
A Haitian vendor was situated on the outskirts of town, and since I was still the only passenger, he thought it was cool to do a little shopping on the job. 
"Mometito," he called to me in the back, and then went to peruse the selection and haggle over prices.
5 minutes later we were on the road again.
My first inclination was to be perturbed by this personal errand, (after all I'd prefer to spend as little time in transport between destinations as possible) but then I decided I'd rather be amused. 
My amusement was not to stop there though. 
On our next stop out of town we picked up a gentleman outside of a colmado drinking a litro of beer. He brought the litro and 2 styrofoam cups along with him and hopped into the front seat, promptly pouring himself a cup and then pouring one for the driver. 
Amidst our other stops on the way to Samaná, the driver pulled over twice more and all the passengers had to wait while he picked up more litros of beer for himself and the front seat passengers to share. 
Just wish he would have passed some along to the back :)
Only in the Dominican Republic, haha. 

In Samaná I caught a bus to Las Terrenas, and another hour and fifteen minute bus trip later,  I was smiling next to Sydney and David and Sydney´s mom at our hostal, Casas del Mar y Neptunia. I have stayed there once before, but it bears repeating that the hostal is made up of some pretty darn cute little bungalows. 

Fast forward a little bit and we were all four walking to dinner at La Yuca Caliente...a classy little restaurante brushing up against the sea. 

We cheersed to the good fortune of being together in such a beautiful place, and then we got down to the business of eating. 

I mopped up every last bite of my clams marinera and sipped cool wine as the sunset. 
There is nothing better on a sultry seaside Dominican evening than good company, good food, and a beautiful view.

(My overall thoughts on La Yuca Caliente...nice atmosphere and very reasonably priced, especially compared to the other seafront restaurants. Just be sure to bring your own water since they charge 90 pesos for a bottle that you can find at a  colmado for 15)

The next morning, after a nice beach jog, Sydney and I headed back to enjoy our hostal´s free breakfast. Having nothing to do but enjoy the beautiful weather, I decided to just sip on my coffee and lounge with my computer most of the morning to get caught up on some blogging. Maybe you´ve noticed the increased number of posts lately?
In any case, it was glorious. The breakfast. The coffee. The weather. The relaxing. Everything. A perfectly beautiful way to spend a Saturday morning. 
But you know me, I can´t sit still for too long. And soon I was throwing on a swimsuit and headed to the beach. 

After some light reading, I took a little stroll, and who should I run into but Rolexis and their cousin Boli!
Boli and Rolando were having a ball with a stray beach pup. 
Im not sure who was having more fun, the pup or the boys. 

Alexis and I, having already soaked up a little too much sun, opted for the slightly cooler option of hanging out under the palms with piña coladas. 

We also had the pleasure of a serenade from a traveling musician. 
Note that weird ball strapped to his foot.....its actually a maraca! Perfect for tapping time while strumming out old Spanish love ballads. 

We sipped and sang until sunset, and then I meandered home to wash up and find something with a little more sustenance than pineapples and rum. 

After strolling up and down the beachfront, I finally settled on a little pizza joint with an open kitchen where you could see the pizzas being rolled and thrown into the fire. 

Although sorely tempted, I opted for a salad to stay on the healthy side.

To round out the evening, Alexis ditched her tuckered out man at the hotel and we headed out for gelato and a little girl time. What´s the fun in being too healthy after all?

The next morning, Sydney and I were up with the sunshine for a brisk stroll through town and lots of yoga. 
God bless that girl for always wanting to work out bright and early with me. 

We got to see the sleepy town come to life on our stroll as shop keepers began brushing off the sidewalks and the smell of fresh-baked French bread wafted through the air. . 

A good stretch is just what I needed before the next leg of my journey: a long bus trip to Bayahibe on the next guagua out of town. 

I rolled out of bed with the sunshine and made a hop-skip-and-a-jump to the beach. The early morning sun was already warming up the sand between my toes and causing the tops of the rippling waves to glitter like diamonds. 
But I was on a mission. I was determined to make my way to Playa Frontón. 

The beach in Las Galeras is fine. The water is nice and shallow and great for a dip, but the shoreline is a bit rocky and the sandy parts are mostly covered in washed up seaweed. The real attraction of Las Galeras are the surrounding beaches: Playa Rincon, Playa Fronton, Playa Madam, Playa de Amantes, among others. Many of these surrounding beaches, like Playa Fronton, are virtually virgin. Unlike the other beaches throughout the D.R., you won´t find any beach-side restaurants, lounge chairs, piña coladas, or vendors disturbing your peace to sell you sea shell bracelets and massages. Nope, these beaches are relatively untouched. In the case of Playa Fronton, you can´t even get there by car, you must rent a lancha (small boat) or hike your way through the jungla (jungle). 
After chatting with some of the locals at the boat launch (there is always a gang of 8-10 guys hanging out at the beachfront waiting to take you wherever your heart desires), I was told that the next boat for Frontón would be leaving soon and it would cost me 800 pesos (20 dollars). 
Do NOT pay that much.
I bargained down to 600 pesos, although a sharper bargainer than I (and maybe one that doesn´t look quite so American) could probably get the price even lower. 
While waiting for the other passengers to arrive, I struck up a conversation with one of the boat guides to find out what was what at Playa Fronton. I asked him if I should be bringing along any food and water since I hadn´t packed any and hadn´t had breakfast. 
The next thing I knew he was leading me through town and back behind a row of shacks to an abandoned lot with a mata de mangos. We scoured the ground for the good fruit and then climbed up on top of the roof of the decrepit cement building to pick even more. By the time we were finished I had a bag full of mangos to make it through the day and plenty to share.  

I rinsed two of the mangos in the sea and ate them right there, the juice sopping all down my chin and fingers. There´s just no way to eat a fresh mango without getting a little messy, but that´s the beauty of it.  
Soon enough I was hopping into a boat and headed off for a jostling little ride on turquoise waves. 

And this is where I ended up. 

What I loved most about this beach is how the mountains meet the shoreline. Simply stunning. 
If you wander around behind the palm trees a little bit, you´ll find some stony ruins built alongside the cliffs. 

I was particularly lucky on this day because I found even more than that! I found a cliff-climbing couple from Spain scaling a vertical wall of rock with ropes and hooks. They were professional mountain climbers and took their gear with them wherever they went on vacation. 
And they let me strap up and give it a go!!
Regretfully, I don´t have any pictures to document this little escapade....so since there´s no photographic evidence, you´ll have to trust me when I say I climbed to a frightening height. Once I couldn´t feel my arms any more from clinging to the cliffside like a terrified spider, I decided it was time to let go. I unpried my fingers from their death grip and rappelled down the mountain to safety, wondering the whole time what I had been so scared about. 

After thanking my new friends for the adventure, I made my way back to the beach to cool off in the crystal water (mountain climbing is hard work!) and soak up the sun. 

One can only do so much soaking though, and soon I was ready for another adventure. One of the boat guides, Daniel, mentioned he was going to hike back to Las Galeras on foot. Seeing a chance for a little exercise and a nice trek through the jungla, I opted to join him. 

I´m glad I did! It was a sweaty up and down climb, and Daniel wasn´t one to wait up for slackers, but it was fun trying to keep up. He really was an excellent guide though, and every time we passed a mango tree, which was a lot, he stopped to tell me the variety and point out the differences between one type of mango and another. And I tried them all! Big ones, little ones, round golf ball sized ones, flat football shaped ones, greenish blue, greenish pink, yellow, and sunset colored. The forest floor was littered with them. Each and every one delicious. 

Is there anything more beautiful than a mata de mangos?
I ate nothing but mangos the entire day and have never been so happy in my life. 

After about an hour the path diverged into two, and we had the option of heading up to the top of one of the tallest mountains in the area, or down to Las Galeras. 
Of course I chose to go up. 

The view was worth every step. 

I made it back to Las Galeras, tired to the bone and happy to the soul, just in time to see the sun sink beneath the sea. 
Soon, I myself was also doing some sinking...into the soft sheets of my bed, where visions of mango juice danced in my head. 

The next morning I sprung out of bed like a grasshopper at 6:30 a.m. I had spent part of my long trek home the day before arranging the details for my next quest.....

Harpoon fishing!!!

After rounding up the gear and ironing out some details (like going to the house of our sleeping harpooner to wake him up), I found myself  in a pair of flippers walking backwards into the sea through the shallow coral and trying not to step on any sea urchins. 
Jónaton (pronounced Joan-ah-tone), my guide, and I spent nearly 3 hours snorkeling and navigating our way through the coral reefs hidden below the glassy surface of el mar. 
Jonaton probably took me farther than a half mile from the shore line and we covered at least several miles of water in our journey. Surprisingly enough, I never got tired as the sea water was salty enough to keep me bouyant on the surface without too much effort. 
I wish I could put into words how absolutely amazing this experience was. I felt like the Little Mermaid. Except I was a little mermaid on a mission: to find and kill Nemo. Ok, that sounds pretty gruesome, but in all fairness, harpoon fishing is a pretty fair sport. The fishies have as much chance to escape capture as the harpooner has to catch them...knowing where they are and anticipating their movements is a practiced skill. Which is why I didn´t actually do any harpooning myself; I wanted to avoid any possible scenario in which I had to explain to my parents that I had accidentally harpooned my own leg. Maybe the next trip. For now, I left the tough stuff to Jonaton, who was an expert. Shy and sweet on land, he turned into a barracuda under the water. I trailed behind him, taking in the scenery and keeping a lookout for sharks (I don´t actually think there are any sharks in that water...but when you are in the middle of the ocean you can´t help thinking about it). The scenery, by the way, was breathtaking and I learned a few new vocab words along the way too. For example, the two giant sting rays sailing beneath me like kites I came to find out are called Manta Rayas...or in slang Cholos. The striped eel was appropriately nicknamed a pez machete. I also saw an inky black octopus, a blue crab the size of my hand feeding himself with his crabby claws, a vibrant orange star fish bigger than my head, tons of tiny jellyfish which lit up like they had live wires for veins and which I vigorously tried to avoid, and fish in every color imaginable, including the bright red pez cotorra (parrot fish) that Jonaton was stalking through the deep. 
In the end we ended up with 5 nice little red fish, a giant conch shell, and a lobster. Not a bad little catch. 

"Pero tu ´sta peligroso!"
"Wow, you´re dangerous!" That´s what the onlookers said to Jonaton as as we walked back along the beach to the boat launch with our prizes. Sweet, shy Jonaton just smiled, and I couldn´t stop smiling either.  

Look closely, you can still the scuba mask outline on my forehead. I know this because a little Dominican boy made fun of me for it when I was coming out of the water. 

One of Jonaton´s friends at the boat launch cleaned the conch shell for me as a souvenir and removed the critter (lambí in Spanish) still inside so we could cook him up with the rest of the catch.

We gave the catch to the señoras at Restaurante Modesta, an authentic little thatch-roofed Dominican joint right on the beach, and run by a smiling, wrinkly Señora Modesta herself. They had everything cooked up in a matter of minutes and served it with tostones, arroz, and ensalada. Since Jonaton and I clearly did not need 5 fish to ourselves, we shared with the rest of the boys on the beach and made sure nothing went to waste. 

This was my first time trying real lobster! And nothing tastes better than the lobster you caught yourself. 
Ok, I didn´t actually "catch" it myself, don´t get so technical on me, mister. But I did make sure no sharks ate Jonaton while he was harpooning and that was an important job. Definitely worthy of a lobster

I would love to tell you exaclty how to go about finding your own harpooning expedition at Las Galeras, but all you really have to do is ask around. Find Jonaton if you can. The whole 3 hour excursion, including full rights to whatever we caught, only cost me 700 pesos. (plus I gave 200 to the ladies at El Restaurante Modesta for cooking the catch). If you went out to any restaurant and ordered lobster, it would probably cost you about that much, and you wouldn´t get the 3 hours of fun and the extra 5 fish and conch shell souvenir to boot). 
Best experience ever!

The Dominican transportation system can only be described as a blessing and a curse. On the blessing side, you can generally get to wherever you need to go for rather cheap. On the curse side, you will travel at snail pace. Case in point: I left at 9:30 in the morning from the Transporte Pepe bus stop in Santiago. I switched buses at Samana, and made it to my destination, the sleepy fishing village of Las Galeras, at 2:20 p.m. That's 4 hours and 50 minutes my friends. On the other hand, my traveling companions for this first leg of the trip, Rolexis (Alexis and Rolando! Rolexis is their celebrity status name. I just made it up. They don't know I'm calling them that yet.), left by car a little after 11 a.m. and ended up in Las Galeras just minutes before I did. 
Hrrrmmph
Moral of the story. Rent a car.
However, if that's not a viable option (you don't have enough money, you don't want the hassle of actually renting a car, you're just plain scared to drive in the crazy free-for-all that is the D.R.), a guagua is really your only choice.
So with that in mind, I've put together a few survival tips for you in case you find yourself dealing with the Dominican transportation system.
1. Don't expect to find bus times posted online. Or even bus services. Virtually the only way to find a bus stop is to ask a local, then you need to head to the station yourself to find out when the buses leave and where they go. 
2. Find a seat next to a window or door in the front, some place with air flow. Do NOT sit in the back. It looks like a nice spacious back seat, but it's a trap! The bus will definitely pick up more luggage and passengers than its capacity and the back is where most people will be squished. 
3. You will leave each city at a snail's pace. This is because the driver will pick up (or try to) more riders along the way. He must drive slowly so that anybody mildly considering jumping on the bus has the opportunity to do so. This will drive you crazy. Grin and bear it. 
4. If you are sitting next to a window or door for an extended period of time, make sure to cover yourself properly. You will get sunburned.
5. You are going to be mildly uncomfortable, accept that fact and focus on something more positive. The scenery is beautiful. The people are friendly. If you are willing and open, you can always have an interesting conversation. (my most entertaining conversations have taken place on buses) If not, there's always bachata or merengue on the radio to listen to. Or you can work on developing your ability to sleep in any position. This will serve you well for future trips. 
6. When you arrive in your destination town, you will begin dropping people off one by one randomly along the route. You can simply signal the driver wherever you want to be let off, and he will do so. Once again you will move at a snail's pace and once again, this will drive you crazy. Take a deep breath and smile though, you're almost there. 

And if you are lucky, you're final destination will look something like this...

A little slice of heaven. 
The last bus stop at Las Galeras almost literally drops you off in the sand on the beach. Which was quite lucky for me because that is exactly where Rolexis had decided to park their car minutes before my arrival. I flagged them down and we went to look for accomodations for the night. 
Since our first choice, El Cabito, was closed for the month of July (bummer!), we ended up staying at La Plantacion, which was where I stayed on my last visit. The major draw for this place being its close proximity to the beach and its beautiful pool, which I dove into first thing. 
Rolando and Alexis opted for a picture instead of a swim. 

Adorable

Soon it was time to eat, and we stumbled upon a stylish little restaurant/bar just steps from our hotel. 

The place had pizazz, with a carved wooden monkey guarding the entrance, a funky little parrot-filled lounge, and a bamboo trimmed bar. 

Free focaccia and veggies with dip tied us over until the main event. 

Alexis and I split a big garden salad. 

She ordered a pizza for one, which probably could have fed two...although that was perfect for the mama-to-be. 

Rolando and I both went for grilled fish.
I was trying to be healthy, but I'm pretty sure my orange sauce and mashed potatoes were high in butter content. Oh well, I tried, lol. 
Tummies full we headed back to the hotel to rest up. We each had big plans for the morning!

The big hill. Not to be confused with "la lomita," the little hill, or "la loma," the normal-sized hill. No sir, this was "La Lomota." And it had to be conquered. As with all of our adventures, we started off not really sure what we were getting ourselves into. All we knew was that there was a big hill and that we were going to climb it. We took a 20 minute bus ride outside of town to get to the starting point.
Except when we got there and started taking the road upward, we weren't really sure if we were at the starting point or merely on the road that would lead us to the start of the starting point.
All would be revealed in due time. 

For now, all we knew was that we were climbing uphill, and it was steep. But it was also beautiful, with lots to keep our minds and eyes busy along the way. 

Above, I'm standing with a coffee plant, ad below are cocoa beans laid out to dry in the sun.  We also came across plenty of matas (trees) de mangos, avocado, and chinola. 
It's hard not to wander what it would be like to live up in this relatively isolated rocky jungle. Tranquilo o aburrido? One thing's for sure, it would be una vida aparte. 

We hiked uphill for a good 5 miles before finally coming across an area that leveled out with a nice little colmado nearby. We bought water and gatorade and recuperated our strength while deciding what to do next. Turns out, we had made it to the top of a hill, but not the right one. The actual lomota remained further down the path.  We'd come in from the wrong direction.  

Too tired to trek further, we decided to rent some motoconchos for the rest of the journey, which took us on a windy, uphill-downhill road past La Lomota and on into the town of Navarrete. 
Regardless of whether or not we ended up in the right place, we still ended up with a lovely hike and nice workout. Once again proving that its not the destination, its the journey. 

Every semester I start my Conversation class off with a discussion about culture. I ask them to think about their own culture and what elements make up Dominican culture. Inevitably, someone will mention mofongo. This comment will be followed in quick succession by another: mofongo mocano. 
That is to say, according to my students,  the truest form of mofongo (and the most delicious) comes from Moca, a smallish town about 20 minutes outside of the Santiago city limits. 
And every semester, I experience the same expressions of horror and chorus of gasps when I mention I haven't yet tried this national treasure. 
So when the lovely Alexis and her beau Rolando invited me for a little Sunday road trip to remedy the situation, I could barely contain my excitement. 

The road trip started, like all good road trips, on a lazy, sunny Sunday with an ice cold beer to go and a crispy fried quipe (a Dominican street food staple). 
Rolando had the radio turned up and the windows rolled down and I'm pretty sure I didn't stop smiling the whole 20 minute trip. 

We made Rolando pull off to the side of the road so we could pop out and snap a few pics by the giant Moca sign. 

A is for Alexis!

M is for Molly!
(Poor Rolando, there wasn't an R)

Soon we were pulling up to the famous "Mi Terraza," a thatch roofed shack worthy of any "Diner, Drive-ins, and Dives" episode. 

The menus,  fittingly, are in the shape of a pilón, the wooden mortar and pestle used for mashing the mofongo into creamy deliciousness. 

We decided to order two types of Mofongo: the clásico (mashed plantains, garlic, and chicharrones), and completo (mashed plantains, garlic, longaniza, chicharrones, cheese)
Chicharrones, you may remember, are crispy fried slabs of pork belly. 
Longaniza, on the other hand, is a typical Dominican seasoned pork sausage. 

We sat right next to the kitchen, close enough to hear the pork rinds sizzling in their own fat (yummm) and to catch a few glimpses of the chefs pulverizing the plantains.
I was too shy (and with that realization any notion I had of being a sassy world-traveling journalist was instantly shattered, haha) to ask to snap a photo, but luckily Rolando saved the day and snuck around the door to capture these candid pics.
(Resolution number 1: be more brave!)

See that  blue garbage barrel-- it´s full to the brim with chopped plantains!!  just waiting to hit the hot oil. 

Soon our server was bringing us two heaping, HEAPING, mounds of mofongo. 

That was my best attempt at a look of shock, haha, although it looks more like I am frightened than anything. And actually, probably with good reason. Mofongo is not for the faint of stomach. Basically, its fried plaintains, fried pork belly, and a handful of garlic all mashed together, smothered in cheese, and served with a side of beef broth. 
Imagine mashing together French Fries, bacon, and garlic and then stuffing the mixture with sausage and cheese, and you´ll get something similar. 

Here´s a closer look at the beauty, or I suppose, the beast, depending on how you  want to see it. 
Whatever you decide, you simply can´t call it anything else but delicious. 
Creamy, crunchy, chewy, gooey. 
Smiles all around. 

(My personal favorite part, finding a bite with a particularly crispity-crunchity morsel of pork rind.)

By the time we left, a line was filling out into the street just to get their hands on their own helping of Dominican gold. 

With my diet thoroughly and happily ruined for the day (did I mention I ate brownies for breakfast?), we decided to go all out and continue the binge back in Santiago with the newly opened Sweet Frog.

The idea is that you get to pick your own frozen yogurt and top it with anything you'd like from the eye-popping selection of goodies. You then pay by the weight of your cup. For those who like their ice cream chock-full of chunky topping goodness, like me, this is paradise. 

I opted for 4 different types of frozen yogurt (pistachio, turtle, snickers, and sweet coconut), and an eclectic mix of just as many toppings (twix bars pieces, cookie dough bites, mango bubble things, and gummy bears). Don't  mock my selection!

P.s. I realize gummy bears and ice cream make a fairly odd combination, but I just really wanted to eat some gummy bears!

Tummies full up, we decided it was time to roll ourselves home. Alexis and Rolando deposited me at my doorstep, and I waddled myself up the stairs and onto my bed where I took a nice little Sunday afternoon snooze (i.e. fell into a food coma). What a perfect way to spend the Sunday. 

It was supposed to be a wholistic weekend: A sleepy fishing village, long morning sunrise runs on the beach, drinking nothing but coconut milk straight from the coco, eating only freshly fallen mangos and grilled fish, soaking up the sun with waves lapping at my toes, catching up on my reading and my yoga.....
Instead,  we ended up meeting two skinny afro-haired island boys with smiles that could break your heart, eating a montón de tostones and pizza, sleeping in late, drinking cerveza, and dancing bachata and merengue into the wee small hours of the morning. 

We arrived in Las Galeras on a Monday morning after a 3 hour bus trip to Sámana and an additional 1 hour miniguagua ride to the end of the peninsula where the quiet town of Las Galeras lays nestled between beaches and mountains. 

We stayed in the lovely Villa La Plantacion. A colonial-style hotel with beautiful grounds and an amazing pool. The place is owned and managed by Remy, a friendly French ex-pat that was only all too happy to help us out with whatever we needed.  The rooms were nothing to write home about, but they were clean and spacious with hot water, and for the price of 2000 pesos ($50) per night, they were more than sufficient. Being located a mere 3 minutes walk from the beach and right in the center of town, it was a great location and worth a recommendation. 

After a lovely grilled fish lunch, we strolled down the beach and sneakily commandeered a few lounge chairs from the nearby all-inclusive resort. And there we lounged lazily for the rest of the day, reading our books and hiding our un-wrist banded arms from security whenever the passed by. 

After a long snooze and hot shower, we headed back into town for the night to russle up some grub. 

We decided on a crispy ham, mushroom, and olive pizza. And by olive, they meant "one" olive, haha. Oh well, it was still deelish. 

Scuffilufigus came sniffing around for a slice too. He apparently belonged to the establishment, but looked like he had spent all day skipping along the beach and rolling around in the salt water and sand. 
Amy and I kept trying to catch Scruffilufigus´s attention while we were eating, and likewise so did the two chicos that came in and ordered cerveza at the table nearby....and from there a friendship was formed. From the pizza joint we headed over to a nearby disco, ordered up a couple rounds of Presidente, and swayed the night away. 

Conveniently, our new friends worked on the boats that carry tourists too and from the surrounding beaches on the rocky coast line. After walking us back to our hotel they agreed to meet up with us again in the morning for a trip to Playa El Rincón.

Still looking a little sleepy!

Playa Rincón is a long stretch of silky, golden-sanded beach bordered by a forest of palm trees. The waters are the purest color of turquoise you will ever lay eyes on and the waves are so gentle, they just lap at the edge of the sand begging you to come in and play.  Being off season and still fairly early in the morning, we had the entire beach to ourselves for several hours. 

I did squeeze in a run (finally!) down the length of the beach, and then it was back to catching rays and catching up on reading. 

We had lunch at Rincón Rubi. The Mahi Mahi (Dorado en español) was fresh and the food was satisfying, but as a whole, overpriced. Although most Americans might be willing to shell out 450 pesos (almost $12) for this meal, it was definitely stretching my Dominican budget.  

After lunch our friends led us to the adjoining beach. Here the waters were rough and the waves rolled in with impressive height and speed. We dove head long into the rush and tried our best at body surfing- swimming for shore with all our might in an attempt to catch the waves rolling in behind us. I´m not going to lie, a took a few pretty good tumbles and ended up being rolled around like a sack of potatoes under water and spit out a little banged up but none the worse for wear down the shoreline. So much fun :)

For dinner our friends came back to reclaim us on there motos and we took a rocky, starlit (literally starlit in my case since my moto was missing a front headlight)  ride up the mountainside to El Cabito, a famous cliffside restaurant with a cozy Caribbean atmosphere, amazing views and spectacular food. (Anthoney Bordain ate here on his recent trip to the D.R.)

The owners are friendly German ex-pats, so its only appropriate our tables would be lit with beer stein candles. 

More dancing after dinner! 

If you´re ever in Las Galeras, definitely hit up El Cabito for dinner, and make the trip to Playa Rincón by boat- ask for Emiliano or Luis (Rambo) if you can. It´s a pretty sleepy town, but they´ll happily show you around and give you a fair price for the boat ride. 

Finally Wednesday morning rolled around and it was time to stretch and yawn and head home, looking back one last time just to catch the gently swaying palm trees waving goodbye.

You may have noticed the sparseness with which I've been updating you on my adventures lately. There's a good reason for that: my Academic Writing class is killing me (Even now I'm hastily throwing this post together under a fluorescent light bulb at 11:00 p.m. while a stack of essays is sitting beside me calling my name.)
The thing is, and you've probably figured this out by now, but I love to write! So teaching an Academic Writing class should be right up my ally. And it is. Helping my students to express their ideas and become creative thinkers and writers, it's one of the best classes I could have been assigned to teach. 
But the grading, ooooohhh the grading. I've literally been spending HOURS upon HOURS reviewing, revising, and editing student essays and exams. And with the end of the semester under 2 weeks away, Iet's just say I've been feeling the crunch. 
It's been consuming me. 
So when an offer to head to the beach came up this Sunday, the angel on my shoulder was all "no way Jose, you've got way too much school stuff to do."  And I almost brushed the idea away without a second thought. But the devil (whose voice sounded suspiciously like Amy's) was all like, "Carpe diem chica!"  You can probably guess which one won out.
So Sunday morning Amy and I caught Caribe tours to Sosua. 
I gotta say, I'm glad I went with the devil on this one.  Just look at these pics! It couldn't have been a more beautiful day.  

Now Sosua is a pretty local beach. You can find a fair amount of tourists there (it actually happens to be the sex-tourism capital of the D.R. so don't be surprised to see old white men hanging out with beautiful young Dominican girls), and there are plenty of English-speaking bars and shops in the vicinity, but the majority of beach-goers will be Dominicans. 
Amy and I found a nice little bar with free chairs and a great menu. 

We plopped ourselves down on the beach, slathered on the sunscreen, and soaked up some rays while we waited for our meals to arrive.
Amy did a little light reading (if you can call Ayn Rand light reading), and I sipped on a cold beer while grading papers (I couldn't leave them completely behind!). 

Lunch time! They brought it right down to the beach for us. We didn't have to move a muscle. Talk about service. 

After stuffing ourselves to the gills, we laid back to snooze and people watch, occasionally getting up to dip our toes in the cooling waves. 

We also did a little on-sight shopping.

Nothing like a new pair of shades and a day at the beach to put things into perspective. Yep, now I have to make up for lost time and stay up later/wake up earlier to get all my grading done, but was it worth it? Totally. My grading will get done. It always does, but I can't make up for those moments I miss traveling and spending time with friends. It's good to be dedicated to your job, but every once in a while you have to take a step back, breathe, and refocus on the important things in life. Two months from now those essays will be ancient history, but I will remember this trip to the beach. I'll remember how awesome the fresh-caught fish tasted and how stunningly blue the water was. I'll remember bargaining for a pair of sunglasses and that feeling of adventure after having to flag down a ride to Santiago once we realized we'd missed the last scheduled Caribe tours bus. And another perk? After a little relaxation time, I'm ready to tackle the week head on. 
In a cheesy conclusion, I'm going to leave you with a poem. I first read this poem in middle school and loved it for the simple fact that it contained both my name and my sister's name. Further readings later in life made me fall in love with it for deeper reasons. I think it fits appropriately here. 
Enjoy and remember to treat yourself well this week!

So I spent my Dominican Easter at an Indian hotel hanging out with a bunch of Americans. Yep. Breaking all the traditions this year. 
But let me start from the beginning. 
Traditionally, Dominicans don't seem to have too many traditions regarding Easter. No Easter egg hunts, no chocolate bunnies, no baskets full of goodies on Easter morning, not even a Peep in sight. For a country that is so heavily influenced by the U.S., this one holiday seems to have somehow escaped the clutches of consumerism (which is probably a good thing). They do, however, have one strange tradition: sweet beans. Nope, I'm not talking jelly beans (oh, how I wish!)

Sweet beans, or habichuelas con dulce, are a strange concoction of red beans, sweet potato, milk, coconut milk, sugar, raisins, cinnamon, and other spices, all stewed and creamed together to form a soupy pudding and served up with mini vanilla wafer-like cookies. Every Dominican family has their own secret recipe and its traditionally eaten the first and last week of Lent, although nobody seems to know why. Even the end-all be-all source of information, the world-wide-web, couldn't explain the origin or tradition behind this interesting dish. Mysterious. 
I tried it once. 
Let's just say its an acquired taste. 
Dominicans would beg to differ though. I polled all my students (that's about 80) to see what their favorite part of Easter was, and at least half of them claimed it was habichuelas con dulce.
I just don't understand. 
This is one tradition I'll let the Dominican Republic keep for itself. 
The only other custom associated with Easter (and this is really a custom for all Dominican holidays) is to head to the beach and drink copious amounts of rum (which is what the other half of my students claimed was their favorite part) Now a beach vacation is definitely a tradition I can get behind. 
And that was my original plan for Thursday and Friday of Semana Santa (holy week).
Mother nature had different ideas. After a sweltering hot start to the week, Thursday through Sunday turned into one of the coldest, rainiest weekends of the year. Good thing I also had plans to go to the mountains! Gotta have all your bases covered here :) 
So after a restful Thurday and Friday in Santiago, I loaded up in a mini guagua with a herd of Hub friends and headed up to the hills (woah, look at those alliteration skills, I wasn't even trying!)

Our destination was the Blue Moon, an eclectic Indian retreat nestled on a lush and fairly secluded mountainside. 

The whole trip was organized by the Hub, and was open to all Hub members and friends. It was a pretty large crowd, including plenty of old friends I hadn't seen in a while and new faces I'd never met before. So we all gathered around the bar to grab a drink and mingle. One of the best parts about being involved with the Hub is that everyone is fascinating. Really. They are. Everyone has a different story, a different experience, and a unique perspective; it makes for lively conversations, especially when everyone is sipping on the Blue Moon Special :)

Then it was time to take our bags to our spacious and charmingly decorated cabins and wash up for dinner. The tantalizing scent of curry had us all drifting back towards the dining area in no time. 

In true Indian fashion, we sat cross-legged on cushions with leaves for plates and flickering luminaries to provide a slightly magical aura. 

The owner of the retreat came out to explain each course and to teach us how to eat Indian style; that is, without silverware and only using the right hand. 

And then came the food: Corn and plaintain fritters, carrot-raisin-peanut salad, curried vegetables, fall-off-the-bone tender spiced chicken, jasmine rice, and a series of intriguing and finger-lickingly delicious sauces.

We feasted....

....until we could feast no more. 

Then the little 'uns came out to dance and entertain while we sipped on coffee and tea and groaned about how happy and full we were while we waited for dessert (of course there is always room for dessert.)

One of the most adorable couples ever. 

Dessert, a perfect blend of creamy yogurt, fruit, and toasted coconut, was the perfect way to end the night. Not too long after we all drifted dreamily back to our cabins and into a peaceful sleep. 

The next morning we were up-and-adam early for a sunrise service. 
Happily holding our warm coffees and teas, sweetened with dollops of sugar and fresh cows milk, we filled the morning air with hymns and laughter at our sometimes off-key attempts. To tell the truth though, I like that we sometimes sing off-key. I know that God doesn't mind, he's just happy we are all there together, and for me, that's more beautiful than any song in perfect pitch. 

Aside from being slightly out of tune, one of our two trays full of the Body of Christ may have accidentally ended up spilled all over the sidewalk. Somehow, I think Jesus might have gotten a good chuckle out of that. The good thing about the Body of Christ though, no matter what happens there's always enough to go around :)

Next it was time for an Easter Egg hunt! As I explained earlier, its not a tradition here, but a visiting Hub friend from the U.S. brought down loads of plastic eggs and candy especially for the occasion. We filled up the eggs with all sorts of chocolaty goodies and hid them around the yard. 

After enjoying the kiddos' mad scramble to find the hidden eggs, it was time for breakfast and the ride back down the mountain. 

All in all, a beautiful Easter with beautiful people. 
Thanks so much to Elaine and Marcos for bringing us all together!