Day 3-038
4 hrs, 6 .4 kms
Day Totals: 12 hrs, 14.3 kms

The bus heads back into the Dominican inland country, wandering from village to village. The going is slow, and gets even slower when we find ourselves behind a huge political parade of vehicles of all sorts, packed with folks waving flags and wearing t-shirts of the party they support. Clearly the purple party is dominant here, although there are a couple of other parties represented.

"Maybe I should get one of those t-shirts to see if it gets me good luck" one of the passengers says sarcastically. No one else on the bus seems to be particularly excited about this display of political passion.

I wonder... Are these folks really excited about their candidate? Are they paid performers? Along this trip I've encountered mainly cynicism and pessimism when it comes to politics here in DR.

Later I'm told that a lot of these folks are from unions and are told to support a specific candidate.

We reach the edge of San Fransisco, where I walk the rest of the way into town where the political rally is in full swing. I see a mix of people. Some look like well educated folks who might be serious political supporters... but a lot of folks looks like pretty rough fellows who look like they might don a t-shirt and wave a flag in exchange for a few pesos. Actually, the atmosphere feels pretty unsafe, especially for a guy carrying a backpack. The thought strikes me is that a rally like this must certainly be a magnet for thieves "tigres" as they're called.

I sit down and overhear a conversation about a robbery that just took place here minutes ago.

That's it. I'm not even doing my parkbench concert here. I'm getting out of town, now. I'm not even going to bother looking for a hotel as I'm quite sure they'll be all booked up.

I get on the back of a pick-up wa-wa which drops me off at the edge of town where I should be able to catch another wa-wa to Cotui down the road. But no more wa-was coming this way... and it's getting late.

I suddenly realize that I'm in a pretty precarious situation, and I'd better find a solution quick.

I spot a "Cabanas" compound down the road. These are motels which clearly cater to men cheating on their wives, with enclosed garages with each room, to protect you from being spied on...

Doesn't look like I have much of a choice. I head down a four lane boulevard lined with erotic statues leading to the entrance, wondering what kind of fortune I'll be charged for one night...

I'm told usually you pay by the hour for a room, but I'm told I can have a room for 12 hours for 16 dollars. That means I'll have to leave before dawn in the morning... But it looks like this is my best option.

I enter a fancy room where a my towels and change are given to me through a rotating dumb butler, so the hotel attendant never sees what's happening in the room. I feel like I'm in the middle of some underground criminal operation... Wondering what bizarre stuff is going on in the adjoining rooms....

Something about this place really doesn't set well with me.

Conversation with the Night Watchman

Next morning I head out in the pitch darkness, to avoid being overcharged for staying more than 12 hours. I reach a gas station not far away which is still closed--but there is an armed watchman on duty who it seems wouldn't mind the company.

We get to talking and he has a lot to say about the current state of his country.

"It used to be most people had their own farms around here. Then people started selling they're land to big landowners... sometimes selling piece of land in exchange for a pig... Now in my village almost all the land is owned by just 3 families."

"What are we left with with? Jobs like this where I risk my life for just a few dollars a day. Just the other day some tigres came by scouting out the place... Not to long ago a security guard was tied up and dumped off on top of an anthill..."

"What about looking for work in another city?" I ask

"San Fransisco has such a bad reputation, that if if your ID card says you're from here, no one wants to hire you. It's the worst city in the country"

I guess my bad vibes about the town yesterday weren't so far off...


"But Haitians seem to see DR as the land of opportunity..." I comment

"Haitians work together and help each other--that's how they can find jobs. They are good workers as well"

Funny... when going to Haiti, several Haitians told me that Dominicans work well together and Haitians don't...

Finally it's getting light and I hop on a wa-wa back to San Fransisco, where I do my parkbench concert... Am joined by a retired naval officer... we chat for a bit, then I continue on.