City of light and stone

My first full day in Santo Domingo began with me standing in the shower, attempting to rinse out the shampoo that I had lathered up all over my head, using the tiniest trickle of water that I have ever seen emerge from a shower head in my life. I emerged from the shower 45 minutes later and informed my roommate that we had no water pressure whatsoever. Amused, she waltzed into the bathroom and was back out in ten minutes flat, informing me with her “life is such a breeze when you have short pixie hair” tone that she had full water pressure for her entire shower. I later found out that my mistake had been trying to use the hot tap: “Who uses hot water in the Tropics, anyway?” Who indeed. 

 Our breakfast room was tucked into a corner that was connected to the living room/atrium by an open, arched doorway. Bars of light filtered in through the shutter slats that shielded the windows all along the front of the building from the bustle of the street outside. Settling into a chair, I enjoyed a cup of tea and a plate of fresh pineapple, melon, papaya and banana, along with a glass of freshly squeezed juice that tasted like a combination of every fresh tropical fruit available condensed into a single glass. It was divine. People filtered in slowly, and I got to connect the names I had been seeing in emails and on Facebook for the past few months with actual faces and personalities. Liz, who would later turn out to be my roommate during our home stay in La Laguna, was one of three Green & Black’s employees who were on the trip with us. Tall and slight, with short blond hair, and playful bright blue eyes, she had a fun-loving and bubbly personality that would keep the tone light-hearted later on in the trip when we were feeling tired or sore from digging. Kate, also from Green & Black’s in London, struck me immediately as generous and thoughtful. And Robert, Green & Black’s counterpart from New York City, was reserved, with a dry sense of humour that grew on me as the trip progressed. Apart from Leo, Arielle and myself, the other two participants from the U.S. were Nicole, a Master’s student from Washington, D.C., and Khatundi, an activist involved in empowering young girls in Kenya (through the Yayaz project), currently living in North Carolina. Our British counterparts were Max, who has built houses in Africa, been involved in sea turtle nesting restoration work in Latin America, and recently finished his ESL certificate; Bruno, who was our photography expert, and took a good many 360 degree photos that I cannot wait to see; Jamie, whose awesome sense of humour and seemingly never ending good spirit kept us all uplifted throughout the trip; Oli, who is originally German, but is studying in Manchester, and has more energy than almost anyone else I know (with the exception of Arielle, who has more energy than I had previously imagined was possible); and Elizabeth, who is a fellow blogger, and anthropology student, who did interviews with many of the families in the communities we were working in while we were in the Dominican Republic. 

In addition to the Green & Black’s crew and the Ambassadors, we had Lucie Phipps, a PR representative for Phipps (which, I am told, is just a coincidence), and our two photographers/film crew, Jim and Paul a.k.a. the Stanton boys (because their media company is called Stanton Media) to the rest of the group, or as brother Jim and brother Paul to myself and Liz (because we stayed with the same host family while on our trip). We also had Pedro as our Raleigh expedition leader, who is Argentinian, has lived most of his life in the UK, and is currently a Raleigh nomad. And in the last few days of our expedition, Teresa joined us from Raleigh in the UK, to complete our team. 

We spent that first day getting to know each other, learning about Raleigh, Green & Black’s, and CONACADO, the cooperative that supplies Green & Black’s with organic cocoa. We also managed to fit in a late afternoon walking tour of part of Santo Domingo, passing by a number of historic sites that Julian gave us some background information on. Santo Domingo by day is all light and stone. Light penetrates every crack and sharpens the grain in every stone. Much of the old city is cobbled, and, it being a Sunday, there were hundreds of people out celebrating the anniversary of the construction of their most famous cathedral. We wandered up and down streets in a daze, snapping photographs and taking it all in. Cars that sped down the narrow streets. The photographs of the Mirabal sisters mounted on the side of a building. Families out for their Sunday stroll in their best clothes. Outdoor cafes. Tiny strips of shade alongside buildings and under the outstretched limbs of the city’s few flamboyantly blossoming trees. Statues covered in pigeons. Tanks and cannons left abandoned in fields as if someone hit the pause key mid-battle, and then forgot to come back and finish the scene. The awareness that we were being watched on every side. That we were camera-snapping, lobster-shouldered tourists who stuck out like snow on a pile of coal. 

  

In the evening, wearing our “smart clothes,” we headed out to join the locals in one of the many outdoor bars scattered all over the city. It was warm but breezy. The moist air smelled slightly salty, laced with an odd assortment of floral and spicy perfumes and aftershave. In the kinder evening light we looked sun-kissed instead of blatantly sunburned. And everyone was feeling relaxed and full of expectation for heading out to our project site the next day. It was a lovely night filled with stories and laughter, and when we lazily made our way back to our rooms later that night, passing mangy stray dogs, piles of garbage and late night coffee shops, those of us who had been fortunate enough to not be sharing rooms with snorers collapsed straight into a deep sleep. 

First taste of Santo Domingo

The courtyard outside my hotel room in Santo Domingo

It has been an incredible last couple of weeks. So incredible that I am not entirely sure where to start. I think the best way is to do it in a series of short posts so that you get a taste of the richness of colour, culture, hard work, dust, humidity, heat…of the sweetness of the cacao and fresh pineapple and bananas. Of the sound of laughter and music.

I arrived in Santo Domingo on March 26^th at 9.30pm. It was a hot, humid night. The air was so heavy with moisture that it left a thin layer all over my skin and hair. Myself, Leo and Arielle were met at the airport by Raleigh International’s Costa Rican Country Director, Julian, and our medic for the trip, Carolyn. Leo was coming from southern California. I was coming from northern California, and Arielle was coming from New Hampshire. Julian and Carolyn ushered us out of the airport into the hot night. The smell of burning rubbish was pungent, and the air throbbed with loud music on every corner. Neon lights. Street vendors. Cars and buses and motorcycles darting every which-way. The raw smell of the ocean wafting in the open car window told me that we must be very close to the shore even though the sounds of rubber on asphalt, horns beeping, and music rhythmically pumping away obliterated the soft push and pull of waves up and down the beach.

We exited the “highway,” and the road followed the curve of the harbour, florescent lights flooding the bay, a giant cruise ship so enormous that made me feel like I had stepped into a chapter of Gulliver’s travels loomed, a solid white wall, above us. To the one side was the harbour. To the other, the thick, impenetrable wall of the old city of Santo Domingo. We drove through a gate, winding our way through narrow streets, between mopeds and parked cars, swerving to avoid women teetering in heels, their bosoms blossoming full and ripe out of low-scooped necklines. The small of cigarette smoke curled in through the window. Horns. As the car slowed in traffic, I caught glimpses of bar after bar, their ornate doors thrown open to the night, warm dim glow of light flooding out onto the cracked sidewalk. Inside they looked like caves filled with bare limbs. Limbs flopped into chairs around tables, hanging limply over the backs of chairs, around the dark bare shoulders of sweet smelling women. Limbs dancing rhythmically in and out of shadows that climbed the stone walls, then fell, sliding smoothly across the cool stone floors.

Just when I thought we would never arrive, the car pulled up outside the Beaterio. A refurbished Monastery, our hotel reminded me of something I might have expected to find in Barcelona. Stepping through a thick wooden door, I entered a room bathed in warm yellowish light. A number of the other participants were lounging around in a living-room type atrium. After introductions, we were ushered down a hallway into the kitchen. I pulled my heavy hiking boots off, my feet loving the cool rough stone floors. Bunches of ripe bananas hung from the ceiling. A platter of freshly cut pineapple and melon was sitting on the counter. Arielle, Leo and I, ravenous after a long day of travel, dug in – sweet pineapple juice dripping down our chins. We were all tired and a bit giddy, but also excited for what lay ahead.

Arielle and I were given the last room on the ground floor, which opened up onto a courtyard lush with palms and vines climbing up to the second story. Our bedroom, complete with two four poster beds, felt like a fairytale. Lying in bed, the blades of the ceiling fan spinning endlessly above us, agitating the heavy air around us, we talked about our lives back home. Our work. Our friendships. Relationships. We also talked about the day ahead. Exploring Santo Domingo. Getting to know everyone in the group better. I do not remember falling asleep. Just being woken by the sound of morning in the capital – the clatter of plates, laughter, and the inability to keep myself from leaping out of bed, even after only a few short hours of sleep.