Hi,
We’ve noticed something about Dominican cuisine. There doesn’t seem to be any fat in the food.
And, since I’m American, I LIKE the way fat tastes. But, we’re adjusting. And I’m learning to enjoy eating in this way.
It’s taken awhile to figure out what’s to like about Dominican cooking, not that I’ve mastered the oeuvre. I have not. But I can get by in Spanish in a simple Dominican restaurant and I’m not starving in my own kitchen, even though Denise is back in DC for the month of February.
As it is at the moment, if it came out of our kitchen I made it. That’s a radical and not particularly welcome departure from our pattern of the last 20 years(overlooking 6 months of fast food while on the campaign trail in 1996.)
Some Dominican dishes are sort of nondescript, more like really efficient fuel than something one would eat for pleasure. Other foods that appear deceptively simple are a whole different world of flavor once you dig in.
Mostly the food isn’t heavily spiced and the spices available–at least those that I’ve found, aren’t very potent. I don’t think I’ll lose my appetite for spicy food, but I’ve certainly put it away for a while.
But, hey, let’s admit it: there’s a lot to be said for letting a chicken walk around and eat bugs and scraps and whatnot, and it’s not a bad thing to know the fisherman or the farmer. All of those things are unavoidable in Las Galeras, where commercial refrigeration is absent and prepared portions are unheard of.
However, the very best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten can be had in a little hole in the wall on the main drag in the town of Samana. They roll up the metal door and there you are in the dining room, 6 feet from the pop, whine and backfire of the ubiquitous motoconchos and the unrelenting honk of horns and the belching of truly impressive clouds of sooty diesel exhaust. But the fried chicken is absolutely perfect.
We’re the only gringos in the place, and I’m generally one of a few men without the obvious butt of a semi-automatic sticking out of my waisteband. It seems to be where the local businessmen go for lunch.
Did I mention that the fried chicken is outrageously good? It’s cheap, too, which is something that cannot generally be said for restaurant fare in the RD.
There’s not much sugar in the food, either, although I compensate pretty heavily with unrefined sugar in my pretty stout coffee.
We’ve both lost a fair amount of weight without really trying. I feel better than I have in years.
Bill
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Tags: Denise Hanna, Dominican Republic, Labor Union, Las Galeras, Living in the Dominican Republic, Retire, Retirement, Samana
Hi,
We’ve noticed that you never see a disabled automobile in the RD without 5 guys peering under the hood.
It doesn’t seem to matter if the car is in a major intersection in Santo Domingo or on a rutted track miles from the nearest habitation, nothing moves until the requisite 5 guys have assembled, conducted a cursory examination and ventured opinions. It seems to make no difference what the problem eventually proves to be either, although the jury is still out on that one.
It’s like there is some sort of horizontal mechanical gravity that’s unleashed the moment the hood goes up, drawing the closest 4 guys into the sphere of the malfunctioning vehicle. .
I myself have been subject to that force and have joined the circle on more than one occasion.
My suggestions are always thoughtfully received and consistently rejected. This is the case even when the observation seems to be particularly helpful (“The engine won’t start because you’ve disconnected the battery,” for example.) That experience was reminiscent of other experiences within the labor movement, but that’s a story for another day.
I’ve attempted to explain this “gathering phenomenon” to myself. At first I thought we were witnessing the entrepreneurial spirit at work, but there’s not a big profit to be had in roadside opinions. Then I supposed that the circumstance of an open hood presented an irresistible opportunity for the 4 guys to show off to the driver what they know about motors. But that’s not it, either. Often the guys will confess that they don’t have a clue. That’s completely unlike the labor movement, but I digress.
Lately I’m leaning towards the theory that the individual participants are personally distressed because the vehicle isn’t carrying the driver forward in the expected manner. Perhaps they believe that a little collective will and encouragement will inspire the vehicle to further movement.
It’s magical thinking, I know, but it’s that kind of place.
Actually, to see some of the cars on the road here is to fully understand the way in which human will, belief in the almighty, and prayer to the pantheon can move a seemingly lifeless heap of plastic and metal down the road, even achieving impressive speeds.
The eventual resourcefulness, endless patience, and boundless optimism of the 5 guys (and all of their Dominican brethren) are a joy and an inspiration.
And, eventually, the car starts and the guys move on.
Bill
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Tags: Dominican Republic, Las Galeras, Living in the Dominican Republic, Painters Union, Retire, Retirement, Samana
Hi,
Several of you are relatively new to this list so, at the risk of repeating myself, let me give you some context and background for what is to follow.
I left my position with the Painters International Union in September with the intention to take 6 months or so and, with my wife, Denise, plan the next phase of our lives. Hopefully making a worthwhile contribution to the progressive labor movement while we’re at it.
In any event, we picked one heck of a place to do that reflection. We’re on a hill overlooking a small bay and the Atlantic on a Caribbean island. It’s not Paradise but, as my neighbor says, “I believe that you can see it from here.”
Anyway, our lives in the Republica Dominicana are mostly what these e-mails are about.
As I’ve told others, you can feel free to forward these missives to others as you think might enjoy them–or drop me a note and ask to be spared if they become tedious or distracting. Maybe you’d prefer to receive them in a different mailbox…
For those of you with a little time on your hands and who may wish to locate us in the Caribbean, we’re in a little village called Las Galeras.
When we found it three years ago it was a 3rd-world village and there was one American couple here. Now it’s a new town, changing every week and on the brink of unimaginable development.
In advance of the national elections this year the Dominican government is running an aqueduct pretty much the length of the Samana peninsula. This pipe terminates in Las Galeras. The water will make possible the infrastructure to build a tourist economy around some pretty spectacular and heretofore isolated beaches.
If you look at a map of the RD we’re at the end of that little thumb which in turn is at the end of the Samana peninsula on the NE coast. The RD shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti, although it’s hardly an equitable distribution these days.
We’re more or less mid-way, between Cuba and Puerto Rico and are in the lee of the most typical hurricane track. That didn’t stop us from taking a direct hit from Tormenta Olga in early December. I’m still cleaning up, off and on as the spirit moves me.
The CIA factbook or Google can fill in any details that you information junkies may require. One friend found photos of the beaches somewhere online when I was describing places my daughter and her pal went when visiting. (I know you’re reading this on your own time, probably at home. So research away.)
There are another several Americans here now, but most of the foreigners living here are French or Italian with a smattering of Germans and Belgians. Our neighbors are Dominican and French.
Language has made for some pretty interesting exchanges and as our Spanish continues to improve we’re not reduced to grunts and wild gestures nearly as often as before. Except maybe one Belgian fellow that I met, there’s no such thing as a deadpan delivery around here.
Our house is pretty modest by expat standards–and luxurious by any Dominican measure. We’ve got one bedroom and a single bano, a functional kitchen and a living room that is mostly an excuse for the largest piece of glass I’ve seen here. I can’t imagine how they got it up this road in one piece.
Most of our living happens on a huge veranda under a thatched roof. It’s where we eat, read, swing in the hammock, and it’s generally where I am when writing these e-mails.
We’ve also got an A-frame bungalow, a gazebo, and a garage all located on 1,000′ meters of volcanic rock that was at some point a primordial seashore. Now it’s a tropical garden.
I keep threatening to post some photos online somewhere if I ever get to the Internet Cafe. Now you’ve got something to look forward to, too. (Actually it’s taken the establishment of this Weblog to prompt me to post photos, like the one below.)
I’m going back to painting the house now. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried to cut-in around thatch on a breezy day.
Bill
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Tags: Dominican Republic, Las Galeras, Living in the Dominican Republic, Retire, Retirement, Samana
Hi,
Today, the day we commemorate the legacy of Martin Luther King, I’m reflecting on the paucity of genuine and progressive leadership across all manner of institutions in the United States and trying to not get too depressed.
Maybe we should stop waiting for the powerful and charismatic leader of masses and simply push smaller leaders when and wherever we find them.
Anyway, that’s my thought about leaders today: maybe we shouldn’t continue to collectively wait for the guy who can inspire octogenarians to change and teenagers to take to the streets at the same time.
In the et cetera department, Heather followed her pal Chad in exiting the Casa di Denise y Memo in Las Galeras yesterday after a 10 day shake-down cruise in the guest bungalow. By and large it went smoothly and the few small wrinkles were easily ironed out.
The American Eagle flight that both Chad (Thursday) and Heather (Sunday) scheduled to take is a relatively new addition to the quite small line-up of flights at El Catey. It’s also the only one with connections to the US. Other flights are European-only. It’s a new leg for AE and one that doesn’t as yet get a lot of traffic–8 people got off the plane when she arrived, for example.
That, or the claimed “maintenance” may explain why her flight home yesterday was canceled, which fact we discovered on arriving at El Catey a couple of hours after leaving Las Galeras. The next best option was apparently to rebook for the following day since H preferred not to bus to Sto. Dom. and overnight in Miami.
Rather than make the round trip to Las Galeras again she opted to spend the night proximate to the beach in Las Terrenas and take a cab back to the airport to try again this afternoon, a pretty sensible solution.
I’m hoping that the American Eagle flight to San Juan and thence to Orlando and Portland comes off with no further hitches. In any event we, and Heather, have their number and can now call ahead to confirm the flight.
It’s weird and probably indicative of things to come that the airport at El Catey is larger than those in Punta Cana, and Santiago. And yet it handles only one or two flights a day, with apparently varying degrees of regularity.
We certainly enjoyed their company; they’re both very considerate house guests.
The weather–nearly perfect during their visit–has turned a little cool and rainy today, near 70 degrees, I’d estimate.
Perhaps the hammock and a magazine beckon, maybe a little house painting on the veranda under the thatch. Or maybe another drive to Las Terrenas, I dunno.
Bill
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Tags: Denise Hanna, Dominican Republic, Labor Union, Las Galeras, Living in the Dominican Republic, Painters Union, Retire, Retirement, Samana
Hi,
Well, Heather and Chad have been here for a few days and seem to be enjoying themselves.
They’re quite good guests, largely self-entertaining, they cook, and–most importantly–they religiously follow the pretty stringent water conservation practices of the casa, about which more, later.
As I said, they’re pretty independent and require no hand-holding. Nevertheless, they’ve provided a welcome break from the headlong rush to accomplish a few jobs of work around here (the bungalow deck is complete and lovely, btw.)
Even the couple of days that they independently launched off to the nearby beaches on foot were pretty lazy days around the house filled with magazine reading, hammock lounging, view admiring and navel gazing (my own.)
The third day we all mounted an expedition on foot to locate Playa Madama, a magical little cove and beach 30 or 40 minutes from home. We took rotating turns leading the way, including some pretty curious choices which we won’t go into here.
Anyway, we ultimately made our way there and spent a great afternoon there, largely alone. I managed to contract a small dose of sunburn, my first since arriving, way back on Thanksgiving.
H and C hired a boat to take them over to Playa Rincon yesterday rather than make the drive around and I again held down the hammock.
Today we’re again in a hired boat and off to Playa Fronton. Denise and I have never been but expect that it’s magnificent. A beach that is flanked by rock cliffs and only approachable by boat or by the most adventurous of hikers.
Chad returns to the US tomorrow and Heather not until Sunday. Denise departs for a month the following week and I move (remain?) in the “we’ll see” column.
If not careful, I’ll be the hold-up on today’s schedule, for a change.
Ciao.
Bill
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Here’s a look a the secluded cove at Playa Madama, a 30 minute hike from home. That’s a burro in the foreground, an infrequent visitor.
And here’s a peek at Playa Fronton.
Tags: Dominican Republic, Heather Wilton, Las Galeras, Living in the Dominican Republic, Retire, Retirement, Samana