The Dominican Sojourn: Sun, Sea, Colonial Charms and Chocolate Delights!

Dear 13th of December,

I just spent the last 3 days in the Dominican Republic. Not only did I have a good time, but I learned so much about the origins of this humble country, it’s beautiful culture and well, delicious food, which let's be honest, is a given from any Latin American country, trust. I’m glad my food expectations were met. My days were spent laughing and conversing with my hosts (so much love for Gerardo and Zinnia, thank you), walking around the city center, sweating (I needed to sweat), admiring art, and writing. I can’t believe someone really told me Santo Domingo isn’t even the prettiest part of the Dominican Republic because I thought otherwise. Although I did not go anywhere else but Santo Domingo and thus did not experience the "full" DR experience, I still found it mesmerizing. In particular, I want to give ‘La Zona Colonial’ a well-deserved shoutout because it blew me away with the blend of Indigenous and baroque architecture with colonial influence, thanks to good ol' Chris Columbus for “influencing” Latin America with the beautiful colonial housing. Just kidding, he didn't influence, he infiltrated. Anyway, 'La Zona Colonial' was extremely walkable, and very welcoming—both the people and the culture. Before I get into the goodies of this blog, I want to say that this country is worth a visit, especially if hosted by such amazing and charismatic hosts like the ones I had.

Before I get into the goodies of this blog, you deserve to know that I deviate off-topic a little, especially in the beginning. Also, it’s worth noting that this fabulous country is worth a visit, especially if hosted by such amazing and charismatic hosts like the ones I had. That being said, be nice to your university friends so if you ever have kids, they can go visit them!

Honestly, my trip began in Orlando. For international flights, I was told to be at the airport 2 hours prior to the departure time (this was the beginning of an almost-tragedy event). The flight was scheduled for 2:25 p.m. so naturally, I arrived at about 12:15. Destined and excited for yet another trip, I said goodbye to my dear cousins and uncles who took such incredible care of me in Orlando, as I metaphorically waved hello to the fresh tropical air of the Caribbean that awaited for me. I was excited.

The time is 12:25 p.m.: after asking the person that sits at the end of the line, guiding the people when and where to go—aka passenger helper—I was guided to the domestic flight line where Frontier airlines had set up shop. However, I wasn’t there for a domestic flight, rather an international flight. Nonetheless, I didn't know better since there wasn't a single sign indicating that the line I found myself in was for domestic departures only. So, after waiting for 25 mins, like a fool, they told me at the front that the line for international flights was elsewhere, and so I went to line up again.

12:50 p.m.: Luckily, this line was a breeze, there were about 2 people ahead of me for the flight out to the Dominican Republic. However, and yes there is a however, behind me a line was forming, and of course, as soon as I approach the front of the line, they inform me of a form that I had to fill out… so they sent me to the back of the line, again, even though the form took 2 minutes to fill out. By the time I circled back to the front, the passenger check-in officer told me that I had 2 minutes before checked-in luggage closed, phew. 

The TSA line in Orlando is no line to mess with. I had about 50 minutes left before boarding closed, and the line, and I am not exaggerating, had about 2,000 people and only about 8 officers were doing the passport and ticket checks. Naturally, being as considerate to others as possible, I dealt with the line for 43 minutes, until I had about 7 minutes left before boarding closed… and I was about halfway through the longest line ever, even longer than Disney lines. So then I pulled out my boarding ticket and began to skip the line, apologizing for the inconvenience. When I got to the TSA officers, there were 4 minutes left, and there was a lady besides me that said the following with a sharp voice:

“I was in the exact same situation as you yesterday, and look at me now, taking the flight the following day. You’re not going to make it, honey.”

This caught me off guard as I was putting my things in the bin provided to be scanned. So, I just looked back at her, glanced for a cold second or two, and said: “Watch me, bit*h”. Of course, I didn’t exactly say this but I meant to say this, but you know, respect others. What probably came out was, “we’ll see”. 

I just realized I’m totally yapping so I’ll get it over with. The point is that after all that, I ran to the gate, shoeless—I ran as soon as my things had been scanned—and made it onto the flight. Lesson learned, you ask? Don’t let arrogant ladies bring you down and skip the line if you really have to, jk don’t be a line cutter, no one likes them.

Whilst on the flight—for almost every flight I have a crazy story—there was a very kind, older lady next to me and a group of Michigan med-students. After almost 3 hours of amazing back and forth talking, we arrived and voila, I had a ride home . The lady was so kind, especially after I helped her reach out to her son, who was picking her up, that they gave me a ride to the place I was staying in. How kind on her behalf right!?

2 hours into my landing, I was already at a party, my mum’s university friend’s boss’ party to be specific. Located in the heart of la Zona Colonial, at the front of an abandoned church, surrounded by various small bars, there we were, in a famous plaza, “Parque Duarte'',  known for the LGBTQ+ community and inclusivity, and friendly environment. The ambiance was amazing; I was welcomed as if I was a part of the family, it felt like I’d known them for years despite having only been there for less than 30 minutes. Like at any other party where the demographic is 30+ years, we talked, shared our stories—both the funny and serious ones, had abdominal aching laughter—the best—but most importantly, had a great time and a mojito to celebrate… or two.

On the next day, we departed to la Zona Colonial, the same one I was talking about before where there is tons of rich culture and history. Within la Zona Colonial, we wandered around, admiring the historic landscapes, despite the indirect horror they symbolize (colonizers, whoop). Some of the historic sights we encountered include “Fortaleza Ozama”, the oldest European fortress built in the Americas, “Alcazar de Colon'', the once home of Diego Columbus and his family, and the ruins of the “Monasterio de San Francisco”, the oldest monastery built in the Americas. During our visit, we also came across many delicious local chocolateries, as the French say, where the focus was to solely use local ingredients, including cocoa beans from Dominican Republic and I must say Dominican Chocolate is underrated. I reckon the cocoa bean market of the Dominican Republic is only going to explode from now to become one of the largest exporters (relative to its size), especially with the recognition the organically cultivated beans are internationally receiving.

An often overlooked part of the history of the so-called “New World” is that Santo Domingo was the first ever permanent European colony in the Americas. Thus, Santo Domingo became the site to the first hospital, customs house, cathedral, and university in the “New World”. In addition to all those firsts, it is also home to the first ever paved road of Modern America, “Calle Las Damas” (Ladies Street), and lucky me, I got to cruise along the short stretch as if I was Diego Columbus’ wife with her friends on a sunny Sunday afternoon in the early XVI century—that’s why it’s named Ladies Street. I even bought a unique print from a local art-print shop that had been there for over 50 years and gifted it to my mum as a present. It was pretty. I loved La Zona Colonial! As we finished our walk, the day too was coming to an end so we took a taxi home where we’d share more laughter before bed. 

After waking up and with a full stomach, I walked to and around the beautiful coastline of Malecón. Despite the scorching sun and drenching humidity, the rich ocean breeze, and the mesmerizing coastal horizon made up for the gallons of sweat I shed. It had been a while since I sweat so much and in all honesty, it felt so good. Although not the cleanest or clearest waters, the waves gloriously hit against the rocks, creating beautiful clouds of foaming water that rose meters high. It felt like I was in those picturesque Instagram reels that depict the natural beauty of the ocean’s crashing waves. Now imagine that sight with music; I was the camera filming the reel into my memory. The ocean is beautiful in every way possible. 

Following my midday stroll, I returned to the house to await the children's return from school. We had arranged to meet Zinnia, their mother, in "Parque Iberoamérica." During our walk there, we traversed through Santo Domingo’s world-known “Plaza de la Cultura” where the Museum of Dominican History, the Gallery of Modern Art, and the National Library are located. Unfortunately, we did not have time to enter each institution, so I’ll have to come back to do that another time (dramatic irony moment;  I see you applauding me English teachers).

“Parque Iberoamérica'' was as lively as New York’s Central Park is when Summer begins, except with the most humid weather known to mankind. To bear with the weather, we went to grab ice cream, yum. We walked around the park, experiencing the classic Latin American park experience: kids passionately playing football on our left while their mothers either participated in the independently organized Zumba class or threatened to throw their “cholas” (flip flops) at the kids if they were holding back to go home. With the day slowly coming to a halt, the time had come to head home (booooo, but hey, compromises have to be made when people have kids, or so they say).

I discovered a great technique to deal with really hot weather (I did not discover it, everyone knows about it). Sleep in so you don’t feel the heat creep in from all directions. Having said this awesome travel tip for hot weather, I did such a thing, sleep in. Although I was sleeping on the living room sofa, smack in the middle of the living room and right next to the door, when I woke up, no one was home and I had not felt anything when they woke up and left. Since there was no one there to disturb, I took my shirt off in a classic Leon moment, and continued the college essay grind. Before I knew it, it was about 16:00 so when everyone had gotten back home, we ventured back into the adventurous “Zona Colonial '' as there was an abstract dance show at the Spanish Cultural Center in Santo Domingo. Like many of you, I’d never heard of abstract dance in a Spanish Cultural Center so I was excited. I ended up loving the performance despite the rainstorm that poured over us.

The next day, I had until about 13:00 to explore, so as soon as Gerardo and I had eaten, we marched towards la “Plaza de la Cultura” to explore, what I’d say is one of the coolest exhibitions I’ve ever seen. To be honest, I had no clue what genre of art or adjectives are commonly used in the art game to describe what I was looking at but I interpreted it as a collection of monochrome frustration expressed in mostly linear abstract formations. Overall, the exhibition was modern abstract pieces which I surprisingly enjoyed. 

Although I would’ve enjoyed a longer stay at the exhibition, everything sadly comes to an end. To accentuate our final moments together, we had our last supper, or really our last lunch—minus the religious reference, Jesus Christ was unable to attend the lunch as he had missed his train—with Zinnia, who had escaped from work. A final exchange of joy through delicious food and verbal communication, prior to my preordained departure to Caracas, Venezuela.

Although my time in the Dominican Republic was short, the memories will last me a lifetime, and if my afterlife is lucky, maybe even two. I can’t express my gratitude enough for the trip of my life that I have just embarked on. My next destination is in Venezuela, a mere 4 hours away from the writing of this right now. Final update: this blog itself has an international story in itself because it was started at the airport of Dominican Republic whilst I was talking with a Polish man I had met then, it was edited on some random cafe in front of the beautiful Église Notre-Dame des Victoires au Sablon in Brussels, Belgium, and is finally being published months later on the train from Madrid to Malaga, Spain. Ok that’s enough Facebook mum talk, serious Leon face now: mark my words when I say, I’ll be back baby!