It's a wonderful LIFE !!! Santiago de los Caballeros

I can hardly wait for the e-book version

I look forward to reading these with my morning coffee

Keep it up

Bob K

Interesting stuff!!!!

Planner, way beyond interesting here!
Greg, finally a name to your life-mate!
You are truly a gifted story teller!
Are you coming home for Christmas?

Part 17

Hydraulics

As the circle of life find us searching for a greater significance of existence, so does the need to survive continue its pressure of response on humanity. From political positioning, to personal sacrifices of time, energy, conviction, and even life its self, mankind is programmed to live, survive and adapt to just about anything that presents a threat of extinction. For some it appears tranquil, the way they survive. For others it is holocaustic at best. The hydraulics of life just never stops, thus allowing us to engage some form of auto pilot. Even this state of existence needs some degree of monitoring.

Upon entering the sister of Yves house, I was shown to the little area where there was a plastic table and the white plastic chairs that have the arm rests on them. Of course it was around 10:00AM and because of the heat, the plastic was at a vulnerable juncture with its stability. As I sat down, I was aware of the chair more or less forming its self around me, and I immediately put downward pressure on my legs to relieve the stress and thus provide a stable environment to my seated position. Yve placed some pesos into the hands of one of the young children and they ran off with a few of their friends. There I met her sister, brother in law and some of their children. After a small bit of time, the young ones returned with a couple of el presidentes in hand, along with half a dozen or so small plastic cups. The cerveza was poured into the cups and las brindas initiated our introduction. It did not escape my attention that the young ones had been able to purchase the cervezas, even though being less than the age of a teenager. No, I suppose this agreement was an established agreement that no one would really care to enforce, let alone try to micromanage the youth populace on a hot DR afternoon. The Division of Human Services is the street, the barrio and its members all trying to survive. We talked about baseball and soccer, and then about the wedding from a couple of days passed. The sister did mention something about my dancing, however after a few cups of el presidente, I was not as touchy about stuff, and just laughed and promised I would work it out.
They asked me about my guttering business and how it was done. Of course being Italian, I can never just tell; no, I use body language and hand and feet movement. From climbing ladders to putting the flat coil stock into my gutter machine, then fastening them to the various trusses and fascia boards, they all seemed kind of lost, yet smiled with agreement.

The laughing stopped, and there was a curious expression now on the faces of the few who had surrendered their time to hear my monologue drone of how my work back at the states was done. I felt a pinching around my mid-section, and looked down to see the arms of the chair now crossed in front of me. My seat was now almost to the floor and my head was forced downward against my chest. Someone had removed the cup from my hand, and I attempted to stand up. From the heat and my animatic presentation, the chair had surrendered its will to lend me its support. Upon standing they removed the chair and to this day, it has a permanent impression of one Senor Gregorio. Now the stifled laughter began, and before long, it really wouldn’t have mattered if we had generously partaken of el presidente or not, for on this day, in this house, I left a lasting impression for sure.

Hahahahaha  too good!!!!!

We are all familiar with the 100 peso chairs!
They are actually worth about 19 pesos!
Great story, bin there dun that!

Part 19

The thing about chairs is…..

Leaving a lasting impression at the future sister in-laws house, Yve and myself excused ourselves as we had more family to meet.  We headed down to the main street which is called, Avenida Circunvalacion. This takes you to the autopista 1 Joaquin Balaquer heading toward PP from Santiago. You pass IBIZA which I will elaborate on at a later time and also a quite large cemetery. We arrived at the corner of the street her parents lived on, paid the transport and headed up a quite steep incline toward the house. At the corner, there was a club, and being Christmas time, the huge speakers were maxed beyond anyone’s level of sanity. We arrived at a humble house, and were welcomed by Yve's mom. Upon entering there in a leather chair, low to the floor was Poncho. He is 92, and mom is 71. Looking around I again spotted the twin of the chair in which I humbly executed an unwilling forward bow, at the sister’s house. Not really wanting to perform an encore or anything close to it, I looked around for a second choice. There in the corner, off to the side, I spotted an old looking, seasoned dinning chair, stout, with arm rests, and put my hand on it. Poncho quickly said, “sientase”. Thanking him as I sat down, I noticed he was watching baseball on TV. He saw my interest and we begin to talk about the game a bit. He had a stroke about 12 years back and his speech was a little difficult for me understand him. Even though I speak and write and understand Spanish, I am not a native speaker or maestro of the language. Yve made me feel better by informing me that even she has a hard time understanding him. So, with politeness, I agreed and smiled as he explained the game, trying to occupy me while the women had retreated to kitchen. Soon, they announced that they were going down to the colmado to buy some galletas and soda. Poncho continued to try to speak to me, all the while, the bachata music was thundering through the barrio and I was trying to grasp any word that would lend me the chance to act like I understood. Soon, maybe understanding my discomfort, he made himself comfortable in his chair and returned to watching the game. Every now and then he would look my direction and I smiled, and we both knew we had common ground in the game of baseball.

As I sat there, I begin to take inventory of this humble abode. There were two big barrels with lids on them, in which I found out later were filled with water. The sons would come and from a well in the back, fill them once a week or about. Then there was a two burner cooktop, with the orange propane tank tucked behind a curtain connected to the concrete counter of the sink area. There was a seasoned hutch with a humble representation of dishes along with some crude looking cutlery of sorts, and of course the dining table and a few other chairs. Oh, yes, about a half a dozen of those 19 peso chairs that Tomas and myself have had the privilege of experiencing their rebellious attitude. The game was getting interesting as now there were runners at the corners and it was tied 2-2 in the top of the 9th inning. The Agelas of Santiago were the one team and the Tigres de Licey the other. The Tigres have produced some famous players down through the years, as well as the 23 titles they have won also. Poncho was now on the edge of his chair, cheering for the Agelas. Sitting in the dinning chair I was fidgeting a bit now as things started to heat up with a full count. There in this little arena never ever considered until this day, with over 117 years of experience between us, in the Republica Dominicana, sat a man of experience, and another younger man still fending off the onslaught of trial and error. For a brief moment I took in the 40 year old chair he was sitting in, and the 82 year old chair I was sitting in. The stories, the meals, the ball games, the birthday’s, and many other events that had passed through this very remote theater, the house of Poncho, my mind began to try to comprehend how and why I was here at this very moment. Knowing that he had spent most of his life a maestro, block layer, and hod carrier, my level of respect for this man had defined its own dynamic. After Yve was born, her mom went to Venezuela to work for 14 years, so that they could own this house they live in now. With a metal roof, no running water, their life yet simple and meager, seem to suggest that maybe somehow, somewhere, there had been a crises. No, it is just the way it is for many of the people who have worked hard all of their life. With nothing or no one to compare them to, the thought of throwing in the towel most likely never was entertained, at least in this family. There was a sense of respect and honor that began to bare witness to my own fragile existence while sitting there. One son being a street shark, another owning a restaurant in the States, and another teaching math in an institute in the DR, three other sons and five daughters, Poncho was a man who could tell me a treasure chest full of unfathomable detail that has never been told, at least to a Western man. Being the sentimental type, I caught myself rubbing a tear away from my eye as my mind began to formulate one possibility after another.

Regaining focus to the game, I was now aware of the pitcher in his windup, and the delivery of the pitch toward the impending outcome of this match between two seasoned teams. My hands gripped the armrests and my feet pushed my weight back into the chair as the ball approached the plate. Simultaneously the batter swung, Poncho yelled, and his arms were flaying in the air as the batter made contact with the ball. Simultaneously, as Poncho yelled, everything seemed to explode. There was a sense of weightlessness, then the image of wood and splinters flying everywhere. As the batter swung the bat, my arms were also flaying in the air, however, this was followed by a sharp pain in the back of my neck, and the flash of lightening, as the chair in which I was sitting blew into a kazillion pieces.

Poncho was now on his feet almost hysterical, staring at the screen as the batter rounded third base and headed down to home plate to take a 5-2 lead. While still yelling and animating his enthusiasm, he turned toward me, and without hesitation he swooped his big hand down toward mine, and like a player helping a runner who had just slid into home plate, he lifted me up to my feet, rubbed the splinters from the top of my head, dusted off the wood dust from my shirt, turned around and slowly, letting air out, sat down and again settled into his chair. Standing there in unbelief of the events that had just taken place, I then realized it was his way of welcoming me into his life, to his family and perhaps one day the hand of his daughter.

Two great funny stories. 

The good thing about the 19 peso chairs is that when they do give way (and all do so after  a certain age and heat) they usually collapse slowly so you gradually go to ground.  Almost like falling in slow motion.

I have had this happen multiple times.

The other thing about these chairs is that they will repair them over and over with wood, other plastic chair parts and sometimes stack them with the bottom chair missing the right front leg and the top one the left front leg.

Bob K

Another great installment. Los Aguilas y Tigres - lots of baseball rivalry  here!

Best 19 peso chair I sat in had only 2 front legs
with the back of the chair nailed to a tree!
Our favourite team too, the Eagles!
Beautiful sentimental stories Greg!

Bob, I would be smart in looking for a double stack or even a triple next time. I like that tree idea Tom,,,,, coming up,,,, part 20 How to hide the evedence. Gotta put on gutters this weekend so maybe by Saterday evening we will deal with Ponchos and mine little secret.

Sounds intriguing!
Careful on those ladders Greg!

What is this crap about a "Man Crush"?  A new definition of mutual respect & trust?  A further dimunition of the English language?   Look at what politically correct speech has done to the American ass.  We no longer can say "Fat". when it is fat we see. Please no more of this plus sizes, large , big men bull. Over 30% of Americans are obese.  Granted, lack of life style, exercise & junk food , plus the food producers producing food with out nutritrional value play apart in the problem.  Yes, people should be embarresed  feel bad if it will motivate them to get off their giant butts & do something about it. Just look at the increase in the size of toilet seats now, huge to accommodate the new norm.   Back to the "man Crush".  Trying to sexualize are you? Maybe you should delve deep into your own orientation.  I just hate the loss of language that is transpiring these days.  We think in words, with a paucity of vocabulary there can be no clear & precise thought & communication.   So like Jac, get your head out & begin to think.

Having fun with you Gypsy!!! I knew you would bite....

Yeah, Darlene, you got me good. Now I would like to bite you ..... gently of course, & wherever you would like.  Be forewarned, I'll get you back one of these days. Love ya sweetheart.

I am waiting honey.......

Hey kids, don't we have a special site for these type
of conversations?

I can say FAT I always say the DR is a country of FATTIES. I like that word too

Tomas, where is that site & what is its' name?

Just kidding Gypsy!
But is you want a great site:
dominicancupid.com
is where I met my beautiful wife Catalina!

Part 20

And so on that eventful day there was a bond formed, a secret sealed and forever the unspoken agreement that while one attachement had quickly passed on, another was about to be born. Life is funny that way. My fears, my opinions, my prejudices, my ingrained idealigy from domestication, all if it was changed on my first trip to the DR. Our best efforts to change others or let our voices bring a consciousness of conviction to another man's truth, will and forever be futile if we cannot find our own truth and it's meaning for our own personal existence. Trying to put that chair back together would have been close to impossible. For Bob K to leave the DR and return to his previous existence before his journey to this "paradise" would also be nearly impossible.

The hand that is clenched is defiant, or agrresive,

The hand that extends one finger, while three others bend, is accusational or degrading,

The hand that is open and extended, is most of the time seen as helpful or open to friendship.

When í think of the Republica Dominicana, I think of an open hand.

When parting in the taxi, with the senora, and heading to the airport at 4:30 am on the morning of my return to the States, my thoughts were not of an infactuous adventure or fantasy, no, they were composed of respect, appreciation and the knowledge that I would one day return. While in this thought í was now aware of a hand in my hand, and we agreed in silence that there was again an agreement being born at that very moment. So as I conclude my perspective of this land and it's participants, this agreement tells me that even if ones life is made easier by invention, it can be frustrating for others. Our level of appreciation is challenged by the lack of organization with product and service of another, yet we we always say from this "island" at least,,,, It's a Wonderful Life".

Greg, get my PM of this evening or did I screw up the transmission?

Yes and wow, being connected to people who get it....it's a treasure.

Another great post and so so true.  Many of us share your thoughts but not nearly as capable of expressing them.

"let the adventure continue"

Bob K

Wonderful way with words!  I thoroughly enjoy reading and look forward to each installment. This one - well I was covered in goose bumps while reading!

Groby, you do have a magical way way with words. You paint a beautiful picture that makes me yearn to return to DR. That day is coming soon, but not soon enough.

Greg, you do have a wonderful way with words of passion.
Never give that up either!
Tom.

Stan just the memories alone seem larger than life. Thank you for your kind comments. Your a man of many Lands, for this I commend you.

Thank you gypsy for sharing your journey with me. You know í am with you in this common ground called life.

Bob, thank you so much for your motivating encouragement. My respect for your knowledge and experiencias on this little spec in the universe of life is also very enlightning for me.  We shall share this island and experiencias together. Blessings.

Ms Planner
For your encouragement thank you.
For your willingness to teach me to dance, thank you.
For your insight to living outside the gates, thank you.
For the goose bumps, GYPSY!!! Quit bitting her neck!!!!! LOL

Tom thank you for your kind words. Blessings to you and your little treasure. Blessings.

Part 21

Interlude

My story is far from over. Until I have my final rest, it will go on and on. As í read my journaled entries, I recognize there was so much I havn't shared. My life has two ends right now and I know that the passion and desire to share is a never ending burning willingness to do so. As my time and energy allow í will continue to attempt a portrayal of how life in the DR and life lessons have been illuminated and brought me into a greater state of awareness. From the scent of my morning coffee I will arouse my remembrance and allow my hand and instrument of script to once again transend me to a place of incrediable wealth of mind, body soul and whatever dream one would seek.

Enjoy your coffee.  Hopefully it is a dark Dominican roast.

I am sure I speak for us all in that we so look forward to your written experience.

Keep up the good work my friend.

Bob K

PS:  on my second cup of Induban.

Bob K

Ahhhhh  shucks.  Thats all I have to say, for now......on my first cup of coffee.

We are all impatiently waiting for your continuing
saga of yours & your little piece of lorimar Greg.

Thanks Greg. I am looking forward to the day when my suitcase can gather dust in the closet.

Part 22

La Republica Dominicana y la vida maravillosa
The Dominican Republic and The wonderful life.

Even though…..

While I took the time to try and explain how many times it is our perception of things that generates our response. Like my reaction when I first encountered the orchestra of vehicles at a busy intersection, missing the conductor of course. Or maybe trying to find a few screws for a chair, and all of them were behind the counter at the ferreteria. No, I couldn’t just brows leisurely through the fastener section of Ochoa and pick and choose what I wanted. One box at a time the joven behind the counter would pull a box, open it, and take out a tornillo and then bring it all the way to me, checking to see if it matched or not. Finally when I did get a “close” match, well then the fun began. First I went to the pricing booth, and there they entered my purchases into the computer, most likely for inventory purposes. Then I waited in line to pay, then after that another line to show my purchase and receipt. That’s the way it is. When I bought the pool with filter, they had an operating display with water and everything. The senora made them connect our filter pump to their pool, before we would commit to buy. She catches on quickly or in truth, knows stuff. On my first visit I made an agreement to purchase an agitator……….some of you are already laughing… that’s ok I still laugh at parts of that day and carry with me a lasting lesson of the other part of the story. Yes, she had them washing and running the machine through all of its cycles. Using the calculator on my “smart” phone we came to the conclusion that a little bigger agitator would cost less per capacity, therefor we upgraded from the size she normally was using. Last of all I decided that I would strut some testosteronal showmanship and lift the machine off the ground, demonstrating that I was master of everything. Riiiiiiggghht. Laying aside my Lumina 920 with Widows 7 and tons of stuff on the 32 gig capacity, I raised this conquest above my head, slightly glancing to see who would be impressed. It’s too hot to care!!!  Maybe the dog panting from thirst across the street noticed me, as he had nothing better to do than be amazed at the Christmas, New Year’s crowd now bringing the last few days of Bachata frenzy, to an end. Letting it down slowly as to further confirm my prowess, it touched down and without event was packaged for delivery later that day. Now it was time to head home and prepare for the arrival of the agitator, with of course a new 16 foot extension cord. Yes, we would have a memorial of sorts, and retire the “barrio lifeline”, and bring to closure the imminent threat that it would bestow while still in service.

Entering the transport car we departed and headed to Rafey. After a few blocks we stopped and picked up another passenger. Gulp, a fine feline specimen of course. My observation is male oriented of course and maybe some of the same events play out in the reversed scenario via the female genre. She opened the back door of the car, of which there were already 7 counting the driver. Yve and her daughter squeezed together and I turned toward the newly acquired passenger backing up against my pareja and her hija. To further present a dynamic of which further amplified the mounting tension of my pareja , I needed to put my arm up along the part above the seat, of course passing in back of the new passenger. Upon traveling I heard Yve telling me in a soft tone, “tranquilate Goyo”. This means, take it easy. Well, I was a gentleman, and upon arriving at our stop we all exited including this fine feline creature of whom I found myself awkwardly positioned to in the transport vehicle. Then stuff got messy. First, the new passenger held the door and was thinking I was getting back in to continue my ride. Yes, she had this pose that was inviting and enticing me to enter the car. She didn’t know I was with Yve. With her hand on her hip and speaking in a sharp, convincing tone, Yve addressed her position. “El esta conmigo.” He is with me. The other lady smiled first at me then quickly turned her head away from the senora, and reentered the car. Like the animal kingdom, the primate selection process was established. During this short ride I was aware of the slight smile, and appearance of enjoyment by this young woman. The truth remains; I must imagine she was thinking about her day, and perhaps something that brought her joy. In the DR, there are lots of smiles and all too often misinterpreted demeanors, demonstrated by the feline community. For me to personalize and build a fantasy of these encounters, well, I discovered I needed stay focused and not let my alter ego take over.

We arrived at the house and I went to the fridge to get a cold glass of juice, then I was going to check my emails. Putting to the front side pocket of my pants, with my hands, I grasped for my phone. It wasn’t there. Oh, the other, no, it wasn’t there. Then I asked Yve if it was in her purse. No! Then panic; we were all trying to resolve this unthinkable dilemma. Did I leave it at the appliance store, or maybe the feline traveler somehow found it in the seat of the car? Yve took a transport back to town and confronted the store owner about it, it was never found. Thank goodness I use the cloud, and had backed everything up while in Jumbo just minutes before we went and bought the washer. Now you must think I am sort of up on stuff. Not really. Upon returning to the states and using my insurance to purchase another phone, I was informed that the setting had been on auto upload and or backup. Whew…..

Besides leaving my digital camera in the DR also, it had been placed on one of the neighbors speakers and yes, magnetic cleansing erased many photographic memories of that trip, or did it? Maybe this is why I write, to bring back with even more depth than a photo could ever explain, or worse be tucked away in some folder called, "DR 2013", and never, ever be considered again as valuable input to ones quest to understand why things happen the way they do.

I so enjoy my morning coffee with these posts.

Yes getting out of Ochoa can be a maze for sure.  It can take up to three "inspections" from the cash register to the door which can be a total of a 15 foot walk.  Like I am going to put something else in the bag in those 15 feet.

Or walk the isles of Playero supermarket in Sosua and there is a "security" person on every aisle looking for shop lifters.

Or going to eh Feterria and being told they don't have an item with out even looking for it. Then when you tell them you bought one there three days ago a light bulb goes off and they reach behind them and find the item on the first shelf.

The stories go on and on

Keep up the writing

Bob K

So true Bob,  its unbelievable how we are all "checked" to make sure we are not stealing..... it really cracks me up as it wastes my time.

I love the writing on this thread. I  often go back and reread the earlier posts.....