El Callejon

Within minutes of getting off the plane in Puerto Plata I was drenched in sweat. I wanted to blame it on my 100 lbs. of luggage but over the last two days I've realized that even the slightest movement here, or no movement at all, induces quite a bit of sweating. And I don't sweat.

I live on the third floor of Plaza Mora on the callejon, a dirt road off of the main drag in the west end of Cabarate. My apartment is really nice, all things considered. I have tiled floors and ceiling fans and a fridge. The electricity comes and goes during the day, but outside of the fans there's really no need for it then anyway. There's only cold water, which means I take really quick showers. That's something that's definitely going to grow on me...or grow old fast.

I have a balcony on the backside of my apartment. The view is nothing special (see above), just a trash heap, some trees, and a few abandoned stands. I also live down the hall from a makeshift TV studio. Apparently, despite the fact that some people here are resigned to taking bucket showers, many Dominicans here do own a TV. I have a cable box but no TV.

In the callejon there is a constant buzz of motorbikes as they zip up and down the street. Sitting in my apartment it sounds like someone's always mowing a lawn outside, that's how many there are. People beeping horns or farmers driving through the neighborhood with loudspeakers trying to sell their product from the campo seems to be a normal occurrence. There's also almost always merengue or bachata or reggaeton being played really loud down the street, so it's becoming the soundtrack of my life.

Walking along the callejon to the main road only takes about 5 minutes. We got hit by the very tip of Tropical Storm Fay so it's been raining off and on since Friday, turning the dirt road into mud, and making the short walk a little more of a pain. I've almost taken a dive about ten times already, so I'm sure it'll happen eventually. Along the walk into town there are a bunch of colmados, small shops that sell stuff like eggs or bananas or water. Dogs roam the streets and there's been a donkey and a baby donkey hanging out along the side of the road for last few days.

On the main road there are quite a few white people once you get into town. It's pretty split between Americans and Europeans. Walking on the main road you can see the division between tourism and the Dominican neighborhoods. The road really seems to act as a dividing line. The callejon is on the south side of the main road, running inland, perpendicular to the road, while the beach, condos and restaurants are all on north side.

Last night most of the volunteers (there are about 10 of us) hit the beach. There seems to be a ton going on there at night. There are a few American owned bars along the beach, so I caught Michael Phelps eighth gold medal. It's nice to know that I'll be able to catch a lot of American sports at these bars. It actually felt good just seeing Bob Costas on a TV last night. As much as I like Bob Costas I never thought I'd find myself saying that.

I'm starting to get settled here. Volunteer orientation starts tomorrow morning.