Semana Santa

For the DR's holy week, I took a pilgrimage south.  It was fun.  It would have been more fun if I hadn't eaten some bad pica pollo, fried chicken, in the capital the day before my journey.  To put it mildly, my ass was smokin!

The South is very different from the North.  I live in the Cibao Region – green, lush, full of diverse vegetation and delicious fruits, mountains, rain, breeze, sandy beaches.  The South was gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t change my site for anything.  Because I lost my camera and I suck at posting pictures to this blog anyway, I'll do my best to describe the imagery.  

The South – can’t beat the coastal views.  Rocky cliffs mixed with pebble beaches, making the water a glowing blue with treacherous waves with gnarly rip tides.  PACKED guagua rides (I heard a story about one stuffed with something like 27 people that rolled over, but no one was hurt because no one shifted position in the accident, all packed in there like sardines), less investment in transportation we’ll say (roads and vehicles) inescapable heat, no clouds, no rain, no breeze (in some areas), a more desert feel, sharper shrubbery instead of the bountiful fruit bearing trees I’m used to. 

I visited a batey as well in the South.  A batey is basically a sugarcane plantation; modern day slavery run by large sugar cane companies.  Picture the Dust Bowl: the town is a grid with train tracks running through the center.  There is a lovely breeze, unfortunately it carries with it little particles that mercilessly scratch your eyes.  There is a mix of Haitians and Dominicans all living on top of each other, with a dividing line somewhere cutting the grid into barrios – Dominicans here, Haitians there.  Few kids have shoes.  There is scarce wood to cook on a fogón (wood stove), so coal is used.  

Everyone is a few shades darker than what I’m used to in the North.  There is delicious biskwit, Haitian bread.  People are wearing jeans, coats and hoods in scorching heat…wouldn’t want to get any blacker.  There is running water in the morning and evening and a similar luz situation.  Some people have a place to take care of their bodily necessities, some people use plastic bags.  There are acres and acres of caña, sugarcane, and a barracks next to the fields where the “workers” live under armed guard.  They often don’t have shoes either, not to mention any semblance of a fair wage.  I understand caña is one of the products that can be Fair Trade certified.  I would much like to see one of those plantations.

The scenery on the guagua ride from North to South and Visa Versa is a gradual change.  It’s strange to think how foreign I felt in my site at first, and how comfortable I am now.