The Bellas Arts

Former School of Dramatic Arts

To finish my previous post regarding my first encounter with Dominicans who actually embraced their culture proudly and freely was at the National School of Dramatic arts.  The theater department was pretty run down and not paid attention to like the music and dance department.  We were the black sheep of the school but that’s another story.

The students would read plays by Dominican authors and dance to Dominican afro music, it was refreshing.   I did not fit in at first, they approached me very carefully and analyzed me from afar, they immediately placed me in a different social group, the white privileged one and boy where they far from the truth.  In time they noticed I was just a regular white girl with no chauffeur or car who took public transportation and probably one of the very few students who worked while going to school.  You see no girl with a high monetary status would set foot in that school at the time because it wasn't private with renowned teachers or in a fancy neighborhood (but in all fairness it wasn't very hygienic either at the time) so I can’t really blame them completely.  I was also in a different age group, most of these kids just came out of high school and I was well into my twenties.  Thank god I looked younger than my age, always so modest. HA!

A few of my peers at School

I learned a lot more about my culture there than I ever did in school and for the first time I met girls who did not straighten their hair and embraced their afro features and were proud borderline defensive at that.  I never really fit in completely for many different reasons especially because I didn't have the time for it.  I couldn't stay after class and mingle or work on every single project with them; I was just trying to learn as much as I could and not fail, stay awake at work and take care of my home since I already lived independently.

I cherish that experience deeply.  It was one of my biggest challenges and I completed it to the best of my abilities.  I practiced one of the most beautiful crafts that exist and learned that creativity will flourish even when you are in the direst of circumstances; sometimes these are the best times to challenge your creativity.

IDENTYLESS

Someone asked me at work today “where is home to you” and to my surprise I said Santo Domingo.  I was surprised because for a very long time I considered myself identyless which I know is not a word but it’s exactly how I felt.  Only after maybe ten years did I really start connecting deeply with both my country and the people but when I was finally setting my roots I got pulled back out and moved away AGAIN. 

Las Terrenas

The Truth is we Dominicans aren’t encouraged enough to learn and celebrate our culture and traditions, internal tourism is not on most people’s to do lists unless you are financially  privileged and backpacking around the country during times like these isn’t really recommended.  I take full responsibility however as an adult for not embracing my culture fully.

The moment I set foot on the island in 95’ I became part of a big bubble, the American pop culture lifestyle and I wasn’t the only one.  It's like a little Miami on Presidente and Katy Perry "Birthday" song with a nice merengue beat.  I'm kidding, no I'm not.  Obviously I can’t generalize this is not everyone of course but we are far too many. 

Things changed when I entered the National School of Dramatic Arts (Bellas Artes) what I saw here blew my mind, these people were different and really embraced our culture, traditions, I was completely refreshed.  But I know you’re asking yourself, did she fit in and how?  Things took an interesting turn for me at this time but I’ll tell you on my next post because it’s late and this Dominicana has to work tomorrow.

Sleep tight friends.

My peers in the National School of Dramatic Arts

View from Hilton Hotel in Santo Domingo

Welcome back guys,

Now that you know some of my history let me share some information about traveling to Dominican Republic, you see it’s funny to visit your country as a tourist after living there most of your life but you really get to see it and live it in a completely different way.  Why you might ask?  Well, to begin with you arrive with DOLLARS, Yes Dollars! That’s the first big difference and if you don’t know about currency exchange, well, you might want to find out.  You might think everywhere is different when you have money and I’ll agree with that, but no really it’s a little piece of heaven.  Well at least some areas. 

I’ll give you some recommendations in case you decide to visit.  First of all a ticket to D.R. costs around US$550 not during holidays of course but if you want to get it a bit cheaper try buying it three or four months in advance, March, April, September and October are from my experience the best months when it comes to weather and ticket price, hotels aren't as packed either.

Now if you’re staying with family in the capital but want to go to the pool or beach and do not want to pay a hotel room I’ll tell you about the placed I visited during my last trip.  It was the Hilton Hotel in Santo Domingo, you can pay a day pass and if I remember correctly it was like $30.00 a day to use the pool and just hang out.  They open around 6:00 a.m. and close around 11:00 p.m.  The good thing is if you go during weekdays, you’ll have the pool pretty much to yourself.

Hotel Hilton pool

If you’re interested in a beach near the capital you can visit the famous Boca Chica and if you want to feel more secure just pay a day pass at any of the hotels on the beach, they're pretty cheap and maintain the beach area very clean.

Well good night you wild travelers.  I’ll keep posting more stories and tips very soon!


None of my posts are sponsored, 
they are solely my opinion.

I know you're wondering what particularities I was referring too in my previous post, well, while adjusting myself to this big spacious house full of my little mosquito friends I encountered an unusual situation, all of a sudden we had no electricity and no water to bathe or flush the toilet unless we went to a big concrete square hole in the front lawn called “cisterna,” it was a place to store large quantities of water.  No one warned me about this, why was there no electricity all of the sudden and why was bread and avocado the main meal on the menu at dinner time.

  

I was told we were privileged enough to have what’s called an “inversor”which provides electricity, most families did not have this equipment because it was very expensive. The water situation on the other hand was not solved and my sacrificed mother would carry heavy buckets all the time so I could bathe and refresh from the extremely humid heat.  Electric outages would last from hours to a full day or more and would happen a couple times a week.

Eventually we moved out on our own and I started to adapt a little to the water and electric situation because nobody really gets use to it.  We have a saying in our country that the outages bring families together because with nothing to do everyone would gather in the living room and talk but this comes at a high cost with far too many disadvantages.

In a constant battle to identify myself with this country I started to learn about its history, some things very interesting and some very disturbing.  You see this is a very poor country but at the same time a very rich one for a small group of people.  It’s just too confusing to get into but there was and still is such a high level of ignorance and corruption that truly saddens me.

Our financial situation made it harder for the family to settle and we would constantly switch schools.  I would reminisce about what could have been if I'd stayed in my "magical" city.  After a couple of years these thoughts were out of sight and out of mind replaced by the great stage of adolescence and worse my identity crisis, you see I’m a Libra and well, decisions don’t come easy to us. 

After years of an established life in “paradise” I was pretty happy and like any other twenty year old I was experiencing life, moving on my own, working, studying and many other things.  But at the age of twenty-eight I was offered an opportunity to move back to a city I once called my own and thought I’d never see again or at least not for a while, the lower east side, Manhattan, now a completely different city.

Apparently Manhattan and Santo Domingo are essential places in my journey through life and hopefully there are many adventures ahead!

Early 90's specifically Orchard Street, N.Y. 

Nauseous and tense my guts were tied up with the thought of the unknown or maybe it was just the fact that I was sitting in coach in a Boeing 747. It was 1995 I was almost 13 years old and I was leaving the JFK airport from the only place I had come to know; the lower east side, Manhattan. I ran to the tiny restroom of the plane and my mother ran after me, she pulled my hair back while I try to let something out, I coughed and I hurled and nothing. Then I heard a knock on the door “ladies we’re ready to land, you must come out now!” We simply looked at each other, “ladies you need to come out right this minute” shouted the flight attendant a second time. But it was too late, I immediately felt the thump and squeaking tires landing on the burning ground of Las Americas Airport in Santo Domingo. All of a sudden I felt a shed of relief and we both decided it was time to come out. I went back to my seat, looked through the small airplane window and saw a few bushes. For some childish reason I was expecting to see something else at an airport, to everyone one else it was paradise.

I felt an asphyxiating heat. I was entering the burning gates of the Caribbean and was unaware of the road ahead. Family reunions were taking place left and right, I observed everyone and everything. I was born and raised here till I was four but then moved to New York. I was sad I would miss out on summer camp and not graduate with my 8th grade class which I’d always dreamed about but I was curious and somewhat excited to finally see the country I was born in and put a face to the family members I had spoken to over the phone for all those years.

On my way to grandma’s house I saw a more cheerful and beautiful landscape, the extraordinary view of the Caribbean Sea. Our family awaited us with a big feast. I had no recollection of the relatives I was about to meet I had only seen them in photos. I would stay with grandma for the next six months but also with my uncle, cousin, three sisters, one brother and my parents all in the same house. This house is where I lived till I was four.

Grandpa is looking down, RIP

In the rear terrace on a rocking chair staring at nothing was my grandpa. I had been told he was very ill of Alzheimer’s and would not recognize any of us but I was beginning to think I was the one with the Alzheimer because I didn't remember much either.

I walked around this beautiful friendly neighborhood and noticed that people looked at me in a very peculiar way, like a ladybug in a line of ants; this actually made me feel kind of special and unique at the early age of 13. In time I learned it was because of my fair skin and in general it was obvious to them I wasn't from around there. I was called "Gringuita" which means American. Others said it was because I was becoming a very attractive adolescent and Dominican men are not shy to tell you what’s on their mind. I think they invented the art of catcalling, they’ll make either the wittiest or lamest remarks you’ll ever hear.

I never imagined the oddities that were about to unfold, this particular piece of land suffered from a bad case of third world particularities I never knew existed, let alone experience in full flesh.