Stupid Dingo: Tales from a Gringo Honeymoon

We woke at 9:30AM and it seemed we had plenty of time, but somewhere between returning wedding rentals, picking up leftovers, throwing the tandem's chain down the greenbelt and photographing Chad's bloodstain at 5th & Grove, time got short.

Our packing reached a hurried pace as Shelly's mom and Chad arrived to share our going away stress and screwdrivers, respectively. Throwing the final items into our bags I was still copying songs over to the iPod as we drove to the airport. We only made it to "C", there would be a lot of Bob Dylan on our honeymoon. Twenty-one albums of Bob.

We paused for some photos beside the car and after hugs goodbye, rushed in to the check-in counter. We were 20 seconds late. They refused to check our bags. They would allow us to carry our bags to the plane, because this was just a short commuter hop on Horizon, however this required getting our bags through TSA. One hairspray, one insect repellent, two suntan lotions lighter and minus one very nice swiss army knife we were through security and after a quick sprint we waited two minutes and boarded.

Seattle presented more surprises. We'd picked our seats when we bought our tickets months previous, yet somehow American Airlines had nowhere to seat us. After some scrambling our Dallas-Miami and Miami-Puerto Plata legs held adjacent seats for our rears. Our Seattle-Dallas leg however, rather than bearing seat numbers simply read "Honeymoon" scrawled in red cursive across the boarding passes. Several trips to the gate counter later, they called our names as the plane was nearly boarded. Honeymoon was replaced with row 3, first class large comfy seats for the 11PM-5AM sleep. Stress finally gone we downed the burritos we'd brown bagged onto the plane and washed it down with a free drink. We were asleep before the plane leveled.

Dallas awoke us briefly to board another rather uneventful flight to Miami. Nearly 18 hours later we found our way onto our fourth and final flight from Miami to Puerto Plata. I was surprised to find at my feet an iPhone, which none of our neighbors could claim as their own, so Shelly buzzed the flight attendant. She announced its discovery over the intercom and few moments later a girl several seats away jumped up when she heard her neighbors discussing the little boy on the iPhone screen. It was her son.

The flight attendant was beyond ecstatic at our honesty and credited us with restoring her faith in humanity. She gave us a bottle of champagne in gratitude. When we tried to open it to share with our neighbors she refused to let us open it, insisting it was for us alone. Instead the flight attendant fortified us with small bottles of wine in rapid succession. We were quite happy filling out our entrance paperwork.

Dunes

Eye Sea

Immigrate and Wine

Casado

Dot Matrix Clouds over the Bahamas?

Faith Restored

We were welcomed to the Dominican Republic with smiles, a $10/person entrance tariff and free rum and cokes which we enjoyed through "customs" (quotated because though staffed and complete with check tables the only security check we received was big smiles and a wave). Outside we met Juan (no really) holding a sign board for Casa Valeria. Juan passed us off to a taxi driver with a less cliche handle I can't recall who gave me my first initiation into Latin American driving. In hindsight, I'd say he was quite calm. I'm not even sure he usurped my high school motoring.

Casa Valeria was awesome. Three days later, writing this, I'm uncertain we'll find better accommodations. It wasn't on the beach but the Dutch owners and Dominican staff were beyond welcoming like family.

The rooms ring a courtyard pool surrounded by lush vegetation. Our room was as least as large as our living room at home divided into four open air sections: sitting, kitchen, bed and bath with a separate enclosed shower/toilet all under a high vaulted roof.

After enjoying fresh passion fruit courtesy of the owners we took a quick dip in the pool to cool off and wash the mugginess away before dressing and heading out to explore Sosúa.

Casa Valeria

Piscina Valeria

With my limited Latin American experience (now two hours and part of a couple days driving through Mexico) I can only describe Sosúa as a movie set. A Bond film backdrop of bright colors, frantic drivers, horns and swarms of motorbikes. The air thick and something you can feel on your skin like August back home in Maryland. Commerce everywhere and at every level from women selling shoes from buckets and wheelbarrows to boutiques that refinish and paint the sidewalks fronting their stores in garish colors.

We followed the Main Street past these vendors of goods, money changers, pimps and prostitutes to the ocean not a half mile distant, again to be greeted by a movie set. Different movie. Jurassic Park perhaps, but Bond I suppose would still fit the bill of sweeping sandy beaches interrupted by sharp dark volcanic rocks. Palms and tropical vegetation leapt upward from the cliffs ringing the beaches and the water took on every shade of blue - sticking mostly to aqua but stealing a few greens when you weren't looking directly.

Sosúa Bay was calm, known for snorkeling and diving unlike it's riotous neighbor Cabarete where kite boarding and windsurfing dominate. We followed the water around the bay and unbeknownst to us, though in hindsight it was quite obvious, into an all-inclusive resort where we scored free drinks despite every intention and attempt to pay and strolled the waterfront hot tubs, bars and decks. I couldn't help but be reminded of Tim's stories of crashing all-inclusives when living hand-to-mouth and there was a delightful mix of good and evil with us as we strolled hand-in-hand among the palms.

Sosúa Bay Sunset

All-Exclusive we made Inclusive

Future Sosas

A couple all-inclusives later we found our way out into the streets past a baseball game under the lights to dinner at Rocky's, a pleasant open air Caribbean take on an American diner. Here with a smattering of Dominicans and expats I enjoyed an order of their "World Famous" ribs, washed down with my first Presidente(purchased). In a tired travel-induced stupor we shared a wonderful dinner interrupted cheerfully by Tom the powerguy from North Carolina and his somewhat reluctant Canadian traveling companion. Tom had consumed a fair amount this evening and freely shared his thoughts on power generation, himself, the Dominican Republic, himself, and incongruously Atlanta, Idaho followed by some more insights about himself. We decided though Tom was entertaining, we really liked one another's company better and after a few too many more minutes of pleasantries we departed for the the night to celebrate the first evening of our honeymoon.

There's more stupidity out there!