2001: A Sea Odyssey

Dental Visits

[Received Sep. 28, 2001]

September 24, 2001

Hello Everyone,

Yes, I am still in Luperon. The complication I alluded to in my last letter is this: While at lunch several days ago I crunched down on something hard and thought to myself the plato del dia at Restaurante Aqui Lucas is not up to its usual standard (the ambiance was never outstanding, but the food was usually good). What I was eating was my tooth. It broke right down to the gum. I went to the local dentist for an examination and learned that not only do I need this tooth capped, another one is cracked and I have 8 cavities. Ouch! The dentist was amazed that I was not in pain. I have elected to have the work done here as it is about 1/5 the cost of what it would be for me stateside. And this is with the usual mark-up for being a rich Americano. Ya, ya. The dentist will only do so much work per session, one here and one in Puerto Plata every week. And that is the reason for the delay.

The price is right, but it is so time consuming. They really don’t make appointments. You show up, sign in and wait your turn. Renate, you will notice a cash advance on my M/C. This was not in my budget. I may have to cut back on cerveza! Note the exchange rate for me, please. It is usually about 16.5:1.

At the time of the tooth incident, I had a good weather window to leave. Not so now. There are several tropical waves headed this way from Africa. Tropical wave refers to a moving atmospheric condition, not to what the ocean might be doing. Tropical waves can become depressions, tropical storms, hurricanes, or nothing. So maybe when the dental work is finished, the weather window will open again. So for now, I will just share a few more stories, some not for broader dissemination. Russ, I will be sending to you soon some addenda and editorial changes to the original stories.

Getting to Puerto Plata is fairly easy. The guaguas leave Luperon for Imbert, the next larger town, whenever they have 12 people ready to go, about every 10 – 15 minutes. This is a full load but of course they pick up more passengers along the way. This costs 20 pesos and takes about 30 minutes. In Imbert you walk across the busy (very busy) highway and catch the next minibus to Puerto Plata. This takes another 30 minutes but the price is now down to 10 pesos. You get off at the rotunda and get on one of the many motoconchos waiting there to take you wherever you want to go. The price is 5 – 10 pesos, depending how far out of the city central you have to go. Puerto Plata is considered to be the second oldest city in the New World.

My dental needs open the door to an interesting visit with a local family, which I will now share with you. While waiting in the dentist’s office in Puerto Plata, I struck up a conversation with another patient who spoke only Spanish. After our appointments, she invites me to lunch at her house in Camu, a few kilometers east of the city, toward the airport. Lunch is the usual rice and chicken served in one dish, adorned with slices of avocado. Quite tasty, actually. The meal is shared with about half a dozen other family members who wander in and out during the course of the meal. I figure there are more than two dozen family members living nearby in three different houses.

After lunch, we view the family album, dominated by pictures of last year’s party for the daughter’s 15^th birthday, her “coming out party.” This is a typical ritual in the DR and in Cuba, and maybe throughout the Latino world, and is usually held in the Church. It must be quiet effective as many of these girls are mothers well before they are out of their teens. Often without benefit of marriage.

The 21 year old son is assigned to show me around. Coincidentally, his name is Rafael, Spanish for Ralph. He speaks some English, better than my Spanish, but I wanted to speak Spanish. He shows me the family’s livestock: cats, kittens, puppies (no dog, as the mother had been run over by a car on the highway just in front of the house), chickens, cows and pigs, one of which is being cooked for tonight’s meal. We walk down to the river, about a ¼ mile below the house, where we swim and frolic up stream from where a Haitian lady is washing clothes. The Haitians are here to work an open pit mine on the family property that is producing shale rock used in building construction. All of the work is done manually, including lifting the large pieces of stone out of the 100-foot deep mine.

We then board his scooter built for one-person-only. Scooters, popular in Key West, are uncommon in the DR. The moped style is much more common as these can be better utilized as motoconchos. I’ve seen a family of five on one motoconcho before. We zip through Camu, head up the mountain on gravel and dirt roads so that I can have a grand view of the town, valley, river and the ocean coastline. The view was breath taking, but so was the scooter ride up and down the hills.

Rafael then takes me to a Car Wash. Have I told you about car washes? These are places that are actually built for people to wash their cars. At least, that was the original intent. So, who usually is responsible for washing the car? Men, of course. And might these men need something to do while waiting? Of course. Pool tables are common. Some places have a swimming pool. Cerveza is sold. Loud disco music is played. And working girls are aplenty, especially toward evening. This might be typical of the DR, but why Rafael thought to take me here is not clear. After two cervezas and five games of pool, the music gets to me and I am ready to leave. Soon thereafter I return to Luperon, not wanting to be out much past dark.

Life in Bahia Luperon has a routine. I usually attend the Friday night Especiality night dinner. Two activities that appeared to be dying for lack of support but caught my fancy; were the Saturday afternoon sing-along and the Wednesday night movie. I spoke up for them both and now they seem to be thriving. There are a lot of good musicians here. Of course you know that I can’t sing a note, but that doesn’t matter. Recently we watched “Eye of the Needle,” a movie that I selected as I read the book several years ago. We had the most people ever in attendance. Most of the boaters here are bored and it just takes someone to organize activities. That’s not me. Been there, done that. I just second the motion.

With my story of the belligerent cruiser who became upset because he thought the other cruising ladies were ignoring his Spanish-speaking wife, Mike thought I should have included a similar story about a French-Canadian who arrived to visit the same day they arrived. While waiting for his party to meet him, he proceeded to drink the time away. By the time his party arrived, he was feeling no pain. He fell, or jumped, out of the dinghy several times, with great aplomb, before they could get him out of out of the harbor. I thought if he knew what I had just flushed into the bay, he would try harder to stay in the dinghy. However, he paid me no mind. Maybe he didn’t understand English. I don’t know how he was the next day.

M&C will recall that at the head of the Marina pier was a fairly nice boat with a Florida registration. Living aboard was Mitch, with war-related ambulatory problems, and from time-to-time different, young Dominican girls. It came to pass that the local authorities came to arrest him for having carnal knowledge girls. Somewhere between his boat and the slamming of the jailhouse door, he paid his 1500 peso fine and was allowed to return to his boat. Mitch then went after the girl and her mother, to whom he had paid 500 pesos, and established the fact that they had altered the girl’s Identification Card to show that she was 20. Now the police want to arrest the girl and her mother. Mitch got his 1500 pesos back. Soon thereafter, Mitch was observed sipping cerveza in the Marina with a new Dominican girl. I suspect he examined her ID very carefully. All Dominicans are required to carry an ID card.

On a similar note, I have found a new place to buy ice, the bottle recycling tienda, which is closer to the government dock where I tie off the dinghy when I go into town. Ice in Luperon is 15 pesos ($.90) a bag while the Marina charges 20 pesos ($1.25). One evening, on about my third or fourth visit, one of the ladies said something to me in Spanish, words that were really, really foreign to me. My response, como? brought an immediate giggle from her friend. “She wants to know if you want fuckie, fuckie,” she says.

My response to the incongruity of it all was a chuckle. She must have been 250 pounds or more, and I’m standing there holding a bag of melting ice. “ No hoy,” I said, “but thanks for thinking of me anyway.” I still buy my ice there but have not been propositioned since.

On a similar, similar note, I have deduced that the reason the Dally Restaurant won’t reduced the price of its cerveza to 30 pesos, to compete with the restaurant across the street, where most of the cruisers go, is simple economics. The Dally Restaurant is actually the Dally Restaurant and Hotel. The entrance to the hotel is through the restaurant and the rooms, so I am told, are let by the hour. People who are in a hurry usually don’t quibble over an extra ten pesos for beer.

I finally have another navigation light. Yes, it came off the burnt-out hulk of the Magellan I. Before leaving for Toronto, the owner and his friend dived on it to see what could be salvaged. The friend ended up with the navigation light. He had no immediate need for it; but I did. It looks as if I can repair it and adapt it to my bow pedestal. The locals have since refloated the boat and the story is that much of the boat below the water line, including the engine, can be salvaged. Who would have thought?

I figured out the secret to the Grundig Yacht Boy 400 SSB receiver. All of the other boat electronics create some interference, especially the inverter, which converts DC battery power to household AC power. (This allows me to use this computer.) It must be turned off in order for the YB400 to receive AM and SSB. This means I can’t operate the YB400 on the boat with AC power; I must use 6 AA batteries. These are in short supply. If I run out of batteries, maybe I can trade a fish to the locals for more batteries. Ya, ya.

So, Renate, all of the items you secured for me have worked out. Except the bailing sponge. This is not to say it is the wrong item. It is perfect. But if I leave it in the dinghy I’m afraid that the afternoon winds here will take the sponge with it. So I will keep using the old one until I am out of the trade wind belt.

Next Tuesday is my last scheduled dental appointment. We’ll se what the weather holds then. I am running out of some staples. I’ve been holding off as I have been told that selection and prices are better in Puerto Rico.

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