I would like to take my next few entries to reflect on my recent trip to the Dominican Republic. It was my first time out of the country, other than the Canadian side of Niagra Falls, and my first real mission trip. What made the trip all the more enjoyable is that I got to go with some of my favorite people: my mother, my brother, and Marie.
Arrival
February 23, 4:30AM I'm awoken by my phone alarm. I've been up late catching up on NBC's Thursday night line up, so the alarm received even more scorn than it already was for going off at this horrific hour. I roll out of bed, take a quick pee, load up the car, and then I'm off to the airport.
Check in is quick, which makes sense. Who would choose to fly at the butt crack of dawn if a later flight is available? Nonetheless the whole crew arrives shortly and we head to the plane.
Efforts to sleep were not successful. We had a layover in Newark anyways, so the first flight was barely an hour long. Too tire to read, I pulled out my ipod and let Mumford and Sons keep me occupied until we reached the garden state.
Getting off the plane in Newark we found ourselves in a mini food court, and only about a hundred yards from our connecting flight. Time for breakfast. Everyone in our group grabbed either a bagel or some stromboli. I had both. If we are only going to have rice and beans for a week I might as well splurge a little before we get there, right?
While we eat my brother arrives at the airport. Since he lives in NYC he was able to catch a train to the airport and got to sleep a little more than the rest of us. He grabs a quick bite and soon the start seating people for our flight into the Dominican. That's when our first snag hit.
Marie didn't have a seat. The flight was overbooked and everyone was able to get on the plane, except Marie. They told her they would ask if anyone would volunteer to let her have their seat, which my brother was prepared to do, however no one ever asked. So, about 30 minutes later seven out of the eight were headed for the Dominican.
Marie handled the situation well. Continental put her up in a hotel, paid for her meals, and gave her $500 towards plane tickets. It was the least they could do. When Marie arrived the next day she did not seem to put off by the experience, although she did have considerably less to read for the remainder of the trip.
The flight down was not so bad. Its a four hour trip, but the plane comes equipped with direct TV, and with a swipe of your credit card you can stay tuned for the entire trip. Thanks to my brother I was able to lose myself in cartoons. It was so comforting I even managed to doze off a few times. Then my brother rapped me on the head and told me he didn't pay for the TV so I could sleep.
After about an hour in flight breakfast was served. And like a true glutton I ate all of the glorious nastiness of what they called an egg sandwich. My brother tried to trade me his sandwich for my fruit, but I realized I needed something healthy and declined. If the food in the Dominican was bad, I had stored up enough fat that morning to last me a week.
Before long the plane was landing, and everyone cheered. People were shedding winter coats and sweatshirts to reveal tank tops and t-shirts. Boots were traded for flip flops, and pant legs were rolled up to the knee. As you get off the plan you are greeted by a Dominican mariachi band with a tip jar. My brother throw in some US dollars. Apparently he approved of this welcoming committee.
After winding through several hallways, going outside and back in, we arrive to a booth where we pay $10 to get into the country, but right next to the booth is a lady dishing out free samples of rum and coke. This is more the kind of welcoming committee I was looking for.
A man named Kojo picked us up form the airport in a big, white bus van and took us to a store down the road to change our dollars to pesos. Then we were back on the road, and in about five minutes we were pulling into Saman. It was a bit overwhelming. Suddenly we find ourselves immersed in this barrio, with not a single familiar face, and complete strangers are leading us to our home for the week.
The house was not quite what I was expecting. We were told we were staying in a community center, which this place may have been, but it was simply two rooms with a bathroom in between, and other than a couple bunk beds, mattresses on the floor and a small table, there was no furniture.
The rest of that day was just a chill day. We relaxed, unpacked, and started talking to the locals. Although there was not many who spoke English, and the few who did did not speak it well. Nonetheless, connections were being made.
Before dinner we explored the nearby town a bit. Some fresh pineapple and El Presidentes were acquired. I've never had such good pineapple in my entire life, and I'm doubtful I ever will. And the El Presidente wasn't too bad either.
Dinner was served around seven and was fantastic. If memory serves me right we had a stew with chicken and beans and other vegetables with rice, and fried plantains. An excellent first meal. After that we all went in for an early night. We were all exhausted, and we needed as much time as we could get to adjust to sleeping in Saman.
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