Friday, March 11, 2011
1:30pm
I'm lying on the bed in our room at Antonia's house (she is the lovely Dominican who picked us up from the airport this morning, along with Estil), pretending to take a siesta and eating cold cinnamon bean soup. Gauzy curtains over the open glass-panel and wrought iron windows are waving in the breeze as a fan oscillates next to the bed. I feel like I'm lying on the beach, except there's no gritty sand and no sun in my eyes and the only water is the shower running in the background.
The heat (supposedly 84oF) contrasts strongly with the torrents that kept us at Dulles late last night and the freezing ride from Dulles to JFK (I tried to fall asleep leaning up against Ashley just so I could get a small bit of warmth). We got to JFK at 2:15am and, after getting our seats changed so we could sit next to each other on the way to Santo Domingo, I fell asleep on the floor while Ashley talked on the phone. We boarded at 5:15am and got to Santo Domingo at about 10:40am.
We breezed through customs. I felt like I was in a parade walking out; there were railings on either side of the wide walkway, lined with families and drivers all waiting for arrives. We found the sign that said "Ashley y Rebecca" and headed out, stripping our sweatshirts and jackets as we got in the car. Antonia drove slowly but aggressively home—in Santo Domingo you beep your horn at people who aren't sticking to the bumper of the cars in front of and beside them—and they quickly found out that I didn't speak any Spanish (actually, I think Estil realized that when he asked me something when he took my bag for me on the way out of the airport, and I just kept smiling and nodding). So Ashley and Estil joked about me in Spanish, and every time I tried to say something in Spanish I'd say it in French, and we ate lunch and showered and now we're finally going to sleep.
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| View out the back window of our hostess's house |
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| Ashley |
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