Living in a Spanish speaking country

Life in Luperon, Dominican Republic

We're meeting a lot of cruisers headed west through Puerto Rico & onto the Dominican Republic.  This is the advice we share.  (Forgive my poor Espanol.  Look up all the proper words in case I'm LOCO!)

I took four years of Spanish in high school but never put it to use (Nada for El Capitan, but it quickly became a competition).  I made several visits to Mexico for work, but my "Hola" was always greeted with something I couldn't understand, so intimidated, I quit trying.  As we headed south from the Bahamas, I started brushing up.  Even using Rosetta Stone for a time.  When we arrived in Luperon, Dominican Republic (from now on, DR), our first customs officer spoke perfect English.  It went downhill from there.  None of the other officers spoke English (but clearly understood our questions).  "What?" was answered with handwritten pesos!  

In school, the first thing they teach you is "Buenos Dias.  Habla Inglis?"  Which will always be answered with "No, no Inglis."  (You will, however, use "Donde esta el bano?").  Our "boat boy" in the Luperon (provided our mooring for $2/day, delivered water, took my laundry into his Madre), Papo, spoke English so I started practicing on him.  I would greet him in Spanish.  He would greet me in English then correct my pronunciation or teach me the proper Dominican word.  Tip #1:  PRACTICE!

From the book, Spanish for Cruisers (above):  "Your mission is to amuse the locals with your attempts to speak Spanish."  I may not always communicate what I'm looking for, but we frequently make people smile!  Here's what we learned:

• Yes, many people around the world speak English as a second language.  I believe in being courteous and at least learning the basic hello (Buenos Dias or Hola), thank you (Gracias--they'll respond with De Nada--you're welcome), good bye (Buenos Dias) and what is your name (Come se llama?--this tends to come at the end of a conversation, with someone who has become particularly patient with us, followed by Gracias).  A little effort goes a long way.  Don't stress about using the proper tense or pronoun.  That will come later.  Honor their culture by at least making an effort.  (They will quickly tire of your poor Spanish and switch to English.  See below).

• Spanish speakers tend to be very outgoing.  They seldom wave or say hello and keep walking. A conversation should start with "Hello", then "How are you" (Come esta?), which people answer in length and honestly.  This tends to overwhelm me and halts the conversation so I skip it, but be aware, as Americans, we are rude for at the minimum, not starting with "Buenos Dias or Perdon, por favor (excuse me, please)".  Yelling out "Where is the"...is considered beyond rude in their culture.

• They are as bashful about their English as we are about our Spanish.  (This is our mantra.)  We carried our "Spanish for Cruisers" everywhere and memorized key nouns for the day:  bank (bancaria--don't be alarmed but they tend to have armed guards), grocery (supermercado), gasoline (gasolina), water (agua), french fries (papas fritas) along with where (Donde), I need (Necesito), I would like (Quiero), I have (Tengo) and when (Cuando--stores are never open when you think they should be.  The response will probably be manana which is a joke, really.  Tomorrow could be later, tomorrow, day after tomorrow or next week.  They are casual about their schedules here--much like cruisers).  We all else fails, attempt the English word with a Spanish accent.  Some words are close (or maybe they don't understand your English accent).  We were surprised to learn our efforts resulted in the Spanglish Bruce Van Sant spoke about in his book, "Passage South".  When communications broke down, suddenly our comrades would start speaking in halting English.  (Or in Luperon, halfway through our meal after the English-speaking owner came out to say hello, our waitress suddenly was prodded out of the kitchen and began speaking to us in halting English!  Which made us smile). And even if they understood our English, they would teach us the Spanish words that we didn't know (The owner of a DR restaurant teaching us the Dominican word for frita/fried plantain--sorry, I forget!)

• Speak slowly, clearly, and don't use slang while speaking Spanish OR English.  Memorize a couple different versions of a word (ie. grocery is supermarket) because the Spanish language changes from country to country (and sometimes region to region).  In the DR they speak "informal" Spanish ie. "Hola" is an appropriate greeting instead of "Buenos Dias" (Puerto Rico).  

• Spanish for Cruisers also notes the general dialect differences including Puerto Rico drops their "s's" so Buenos Dias is Bueno Dia (sounds like Buen Dia).  The Puerto Ricans also speak MUCH faster than the Dominicans usually leaving me lost.  "Que?"  A local went further to explain that they translate their fast Spanish to FAST English so you need to learn "slower, please" (mas despacio).

McDonald's in Puerto Rico

• We're fluent "restaurant" because this is important!  We used this more than anything.  "Menu" (la carta, por favor--in the DR, many restaurants have a daily special, so "Are you eating?" Usually results in the waitress leaving and coming back with a plate of food.  These were some of our best meals).  The waitress may ask you "bebidas?" (beverages?) then for the daily special "pollo or carne?" (Chicken or beef).  You will also need "How much?" (Cuanto cuesta), "check, please" (la cuenta, por favor--because in the DR, a meal can last hours--they won't bring your check until you ask for it!), rum punch (ron de frutas), beer (cerveza or El Capitan "Cerveza fria, por favor!" Always gets a smile).  Rice (arroz), fried (frita), potatoes (papas), flan (yummo!), no bread (no pan), coffee (cafe).  Para El Capitan, no eggs (no juevos) and our vegetarian amigos--no meat (no carne).  While trying to order breakfast at a restaurant where there was no menu & no English, I said, "Dos cafe.  No pan (pointing to me).  Quiero juevos.  Y no juevos (pointing to El Capitan).  Quiere Papas?"  I got scrambled eggs and he got mashed potatoes!  "We're not eating out for breakfast anymore!"  It doesn't always work out but a great story!

A daily special in the DR

A menu from the Malecon.  Ponce, PR

• "Come se dice?" is a great ice breaker.  I point to things on a map, on the menu, on a shelf--even after we've switched to English and ask, "How do you say?" as an effort to learn their language.  Our favorite bartender in Samana, Dominican Republic taught us "doggie bag" and when I arrived the next day, he quizzed me with a smile!!  "Como se dice doggie bag?"(Whoops!  I already forgot).  Perdon ("excuse me" always gets a smile in a grocery store or when asking directions).  Many times they may respond in English & Spanish--they are trying to teach you & get you to repeat it back in Spanish!

• Sometimes the lack of communication isn't your Spanish, but the request:  "A McDonalds in Puerto Real, after crossing the Mona from DR was a real treat.  El Captain hoped to order his favorite number!  "Tres, por favor!" But they don't use the number system!  I ordered "cheeseburger no bread" (hamburguesa y queso, no pan) & "ice coffee no sugar" (cafe fria no azucar).  Someone in line behind me finally translated, using four times as many words as I thought necessary (no the employees of McDonalds in Puerto Rico don't always speak English!).  Apparently, it wasn't my Spanish, it was--they couldn't understand why I didn't want bread or SUGAR!  (They loved their coffee with milk & sugar--cafe con leche, por favor)

• Another tip we picked put from an American waitress in Culebra, PR is the Spanish-speaking use their tongue more than English speaking--sounds are frequently made with the tongue touching the front teeth.  I've picked this up slowly.

• LOTS of hand gestures.  Observe the locals and you will see they ALL talk with their hands.  This is where I excel past El Capitan.  Waving your arms & pointing with broken Spanish usually gets a response!

• SMILE, which you can forget while formulating a sentence in Spanish in your head...breath, smile, talk SLOWLLLLLYYYY.

• Our boat name in Spanish is Oh, th-een.  Very sexy!  It took the employees at Puerto del Rey a little while to learn our pronunciation, but by the time we pulled away from the dock, we had picked up their pronunciation, which they loved!  (Spanish for Cruisers, Consonants:  "D has a bit of the soft th sound of the word this.  The th sound is most noticeable when d appears between vowels").  The name "Craig" also isn't always understood (especially in the DR), thus his Spanish moniker of Gregorio.

• We know we've broken through the barrier when El Capitan gets a hearty Dominican handshake from a sailmaker who spoke NO English or when a local says "Como esta?" on a return visit (Bien, gracias).

• Again, don't assume they don't speak English just because they didn't respond to your attempts.  I've observed cruisers speaking a little too freely, and as a result, not been in the good graces of the marina dock hands.  There are ears everywhere!  (A vet tech in Fajardo, after two hours finally said "Nice to meet you" as I walked out the door!)

• Of course, you also need some numbers (nombres--we learned the "hundreds" while converting pesos in the DR!  I had a little conversion cheat sheet which I tried to hide--so I didn't look like such a tourist--but waitresses liked it because they could point!  It was usually passed around the table.  However, they did help convert to & take US dollars before we got to the bank, and were happy to realize not one waitress or store clerk took advantage).

The next blog will be "Driving in Puerto Rico" and will include the Spanish words that you will need, if you are THAT brave.  (We also drove in DR but they don't have ANY signage, so no Espanol required!)

References:

• Passages South by Bruce Van Sant
• Spanish for Cruisers
• Spanish for Cruisers website includes a crew list cheat sheet
• Google Translate can't hurt if you have internet in town (Luperon, DR).  Our boat buddies used it by passing it back & forth to the locals.
• A Spanish/English dictionary in either print or iPhone (offline version)

Crossing the Mona

https://www.google.com/maps/d/edit?mid=zLIYOgFK_xh0.kRkTBlZlCMhU

The crossing from the Dominican Republic to Puerto Rico is considered one of the more difficult crossings.  Between the Equatorial current (3/4 - 1 1/2 kts), Puerto Rican Trench (second deepest "hole in the ocean") and the shoals, it can get tricky. Fellow sailors worry about this section for years in advance. Others ship their boat to avoid it. "I did it once. I don't need to do it again."  I guess I left kind of oblivious to this section of our trip. 

Again, we're following the advice in Bruce VanSant's, "The Gentleman's Guide to Passage's South" or as sailor's refer to it, "thornless". As we left the Bahamas, I started studying the VanSant book. He made it sound easy:  wait for a weather window, use this route, take advantage of the night lee (depart Samana, Dominican Republic at night.  Arrive on the coast of Puerto Rico at night).  We're always aware of the big picture but usually focus our planning the next two to three legs. Only as it got closer and I realized it would be 32 hours, our longest yet, did it start to get serious. 

To help break up this trip, I broke it down into 7 legs in my mind:  

Bahia de Samana

Punta Macao

Hourglass shoals

Big freaking Mona

Isla Desecheo

Mayaguez/Tourmaline Reef

Puerto Real! (Anchorage & customs)

The plan:  147 miles / 4.5 kts average = 33 hours.  If we depart the marina before 7:00 pm (sunset), cross the bahia after dark when the winds should be decreasing, pass Punta Macao by 8:00 am to avoid the "shock wave", turn to clear the hourglass shoals, wear my big girl panties across the Mona, be in the lee of Puerto Rico by Isla Desecheo, and turn inside the reef at Mayaguez, we'll arrive at the anchorage at 4:00 am.  2 hours to spare.  Wait for sunrise.  Easy peasy.

PocketGrib

Weather:  We're looking for a forecast of less than 15 kts (lessening SE trades, preferably clocking).  This should result in waves less than 4 ft, if we give the water a few days to lie down.  (Check out windyty.com to see how wind affects the Mona & windria.com to see the current).  We have a Sun-Mon forecast from PocketGrib and Chris Parker that look promising. CP forecast is: "Mildest E-bound DR-MonaPsg is about a 24hr opportunity to depart Mon21 evening and arrive by about Sunset Tue22 (problem Mon21 is brisk afternoon winds mainly within 90mi of CaboSamana...so if you're elsewhere then maybe travel beginning Mon21 morning is OK)."  We stick with the original plan to depart Sunday evening before sunset (navigating marina in daylight) to clear Machao by 8:00 am. We're concerned that waiting until Monday night won't get us across before the winds start to build again.  We opt for a rough ride in the beginning (when we're rested) for better weather on our arrival (when we're tired but should be in the lee).

I wasn't going to write a separate blog on this crossing. We sleep in 3 hour shifts.  We eat "road trip" food (sugar & carbs).  We sail when we can. We mostly motor sail. It's kinda rough in open water.  There are very few pics (the ocean is blue & it's dark at night).  You've read all of that.  This was just another crossing.  But as soon as we arrived a friend said, "Your longest crossing. I can't wait to read the blog!"  I ask The Captain if he wants to write it.  "It was rough.  It was smooth.  It was rough.  It got smooth.  We're tired."  (And that's why he doesn't write the blog). Dang it. I usually write or take notes as we go. I got nothing, so using my Tweets, I reconstructed our trip:

We have our despacho at 5:00 pm. Our friends from Moorahme arrive at 5:30 pm to see us off. We clear the marina by 6:30 pm. 

Sun starting to set on the Bahia

Bahia de Samana, Sunday:  First Mate is on first shift (apparently that's what First Mate means).  The Bahia is rough because we still have 15 kts of wind on the nose!  We kind of expected this from watching other boats leave. It is a (relatively) shallow bay with the trade winds off the Atlantic funneling down the bay.  We don't discuss it.  Some things are better left unsaid, but I'm thinking, if it's going to be like this, this is going to SUUUUCKKKKK.  The Captain finally says, maybe we should consider dropping anchor at Cayo Leventado Island (or Bacardi Island to the locals, because they used to film commercials there) to let the winds die down a little.   But we only have 1 hr wiggle room to be at Punta Macao by 8:00 am.  Onward.  He heads down for a nap.  Moorahme calls on the radio to see how we're doing.

We've decided to stick to the shipping channel instead of heading across the bay and even it is poorly marked.  I notice a white light up ahead that doesn't appear to be moving.  I point it out to the Captain.  He thinks it's a fishermen and we turn slightly to starboard (and off the channel).  It looks like the light is underwater?  Is it a boat?  Is someone in trouble?  The Captain decides he doesn't want to get any closer, just in case.  We don't hear any voices but he's sure he sees the hull of a fishing boat.  If they needed assistance they would wave the light.  Or it could be Nemo's submarine.  Weird.  (Shining a flashlight in the water attracts fish, we're told.  It hasn't worked for us, but we're impatient.)   Did I mention it's rough for the first 3 hours?  This is a big ass bay.  We were sleep deprived when we arrived, so I guess I don't remember that.

We pass Miches with The Captain at the helm. The genoa is unfurled.  It smooths out along the southern coast of the bay.  Motorsailing with two engines.

Tweet, Sun 23:57:  "Wooh!  Nice nap.  Winds were 20 on the nose with decent sized waves.  Down to 5 kts, decent ride, big moon.  Just past Miches.  Genoa up!"  About 2:00 am, I hear a clunk, clunk, clunk and we suddenly slow from 5 kts to 2.5 kts!  We've hit something.  I wake up the Captain, who actually had fallen asleep and didn't hear it.  We slow to idle and he can see the fishing line around the starboard engine.  Luckily, on our boat, he can reach down into the engine well and cut it off, but an attached float makes it a little more difficult.  The engine is powered back up but we're still slow.  There's more.  I can smell the fish.  A flashlight off the stern shows we are still trailing a line with floats.  It's on the rudder.  The Captain heads down the back step with a boat hook and the "extra sharp" cockpit knife that is saved for such occasions.  "Can we talk about this?"  "I have on a PFD and tether.  Here, hold the flashlight."  He cuts it loose.  We're back to 5 kts.  The Captain heads back down below.  I think about how that could have been so much worse.  And the fishermen (and his family) who's day (or week) will be ruined when he discovered his net full of fish isn't were he left it.

Punta Macao, Monday:  Tweet 5:58 am:  "Shift change!  Sunrise.  Passing Punta Macao (#thornless anchorage).  Turning for PR.  Here we go!"  I pop up from my shift as we're passing Punta Macao, a possible anchorage and the jumping off point for the hourglass shoals. As the Captain disappears below, I make the 30 degree turn.

Hourglass shoals:  The turn out puts us straight into the wind and waves.  We tack out for a better ride and more speed.  We end up making 3-4 tacks before the wind clocked around enough to turn direct for Isla Desecheo.  It's deceiving on the charts.  At 35 miles, it takes us take a couple shift changes to clear it. "We're still at the hourglass?!"

In the Mona:  We're in the middle of the Mona during the day, when the winds can be their strongest.  Sometimes it's nice to see what's around you. Sometimes it's not.  We've decided night sailing isn't so bad.  We'd rather not watch the big waves crash around us.  (Although the waves averaged 3-4 ft with the ocassional 6, but even a few small ones dumped us off the back, throwing spray as far as the top hatches.  Unusual for us.)  At some point, we shut down one engine and we're motor sailing on one.  The Captain is concerned with our fuel consumption. If we run both engines, which average 1 gal/hr/engine and we motor for 33 hours, then we'll use 66 gallons.  (It's rare that we have to motor on both engines.  Luperon to Samana comes to mind.). We have an 55 gallon tank plus 12 gallons in jerry cans.  He keeps trying to squeeze the fuel from the jerry cans into the fuel tank while I'm sitting at the helm.  The smell bothers me, so at one point, I hop up and retreat into the cabin.  As I turn around to close the door, he steps backward, trips on the jack line (a safety feature to keep us on the boat!) with the 6 gallon jerry can of fuel in his hand and at one point seems horizontal, similar to a Wile E. Coyote.  I picture all the ways this can go wrong.  Hit his head.  Break a bone.  SPILL THE FUEL!  Somehow he recovers, and smiles.  No comment.  (See Stats below for actual fuel consumption).

Tweet, Mon 11:16 am:  "The DR is a big island!  We can still see it!  (I'm grumpy because U said "sleep an extra 1/2 hr" then woke me up in 2 1/2 hrs!)"

The Mona.  It's big and blue...

Tweet:  A weather report to our friends on Moorahme, who are departing today. "Beth, Cumulus on the NE horizon @ sunrise but dissipated.  Blue skies.  Wind SE @ 10.  8-9 sec, 3 ft waves.  Bring us pizza."

Tweet, Mon 12:19 pm:  "Singing, "Hey Mona, Mona" to Billy Idol's "Monie, Monie."  This crossing is sponsored by Diet Coke & Ferrero chocolate.  (Can you tell?). 

It took me 14 hours to come up with Billy Idol.  I kept trying to sing it for The Captain so he could name the artist, but he kept saying, "That's enough of THAT."  When I finally yelled, "Billy Idol," he replied, "That's not the original artist.  He must have rerecorded it."  Dang it!  It was actually a mish-mash of two songs that I never figured out.  

Before we left, we spent the last of our peso's in the marina market which resulted in a bottle of Rum, 1 Lays Stacks, a bag of Cheetos, 4 4-packs of Ferrero Mon Cheri hazelnut chocolates and 6 bottles of Diet Coke.  "Yes, we know that is bad for us.  It's the MONA!"  

Mellow girl

Amelia the Cat:  Amelia the Cat is starting to get anxious (longer, rougher passages) so Dad gives her some medication. When I wake up, she isn't laying next to me anymore.  She is out in the cockpit with Dad!  

"It's kind of rough for her to be out here." 

"I put her back in 3 times. She keeps coming back out!"  

"Chill, Mom. It's cool."

I had hoped to listen to Justin Cronin's "The Twelve" audiobook, because the sequel is coming out soon.  However, my iphone (After several weeks, I finely got the OverDrive app to work.  OverDrive sucks, by the way) downloaded random chapters--1, 3, 6, 12.  Helpful.  So I read most of Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child's "Dance of Death".  Yes, it can be difficult to read underway, but I've found increasing the font on my Kindle AND increasing the spacing makes it easier. 

Tweet, Mon 16:37 pm:  "25 miles to Isle of Desecho & the lee of PR.  58 to Puerto Real.  Winds picked up to 10 but we're still doing good."  I got a glimpse of the island right before the sun set.  We were planning on going south of it, but in the interest of a smooth ride, I had turned a course to the north, hoping The Captain could sleep.  "You're welcome."

We get a text on the Iridium from our float plan family member.  The Iridium pings them our location every 4 hours.  "Is everything OK, this last one shows you back where you started."  Glad we pay a lot of money for that!  And that's why we don't allow more people access to this info--they would just worry needlessly when the electronics go wanky.

Tweet, Mon 19:54 pm:  "Shift change.  Full Moon.  Winds died from 16 to 8.  Ride improving.  43 miles to go."

Under the Captain's watch, the winds clocked around to the north (behind us) to 18-20 kts and we were doing 6.5+ kts after reducing the engine to idle!  THAT wasn't in the forecast.  Anxious to get to the lee past Isle of Desecheo, he lets it ride (instead of maintaining 4.5 kts that will delay our arrival at the anchorage until sunrise).

Isla Desecheo

Isla Desecheo:  Tweet, Mon 22:34 pm:  "Past Isle of Desecheo.  Lights of PR in the distance!  30 miles to go."  The Captain woke me up at Isla Desecheo because he couldn't keep his eyes open. I pop out. He disappears. No briefing. It's dark but with a full moon.  I glance around and see an island behind us. "Umm, did you see that island?  Hello?"  Snoring. (He called it the "Lost" island because it kept moving. "We were motoring toward it, but never got any closer!")

(The tweet that didn't get tweeted:  "Who ate all the cheezy poofs?!")

Tweet, Tuesday 1:06 am:  "Wrapping up night #2.  Capt doesn't sleep well underway.  Hour here & there.  He's finally out cold.  Poor thing!"

I wake the Captain up to cross over the genoa.  The wind has shifted and we're back winded.  "Let's just furl it."  Huh?  When the Captain goes to furl the genoa, it is sticking.  Not good.  He works it in & out and gets it mostly furled.  (Later, after messing with it some more, he got it loosely furled.)  

Facebook 1:12 am:  (INTERNET!). The lights of a city at night from a distance.  I've missed that.  I had a student who was a sim tech.  On his first night flight he said, "The twinkle!  That's what I'm missing!" Passing Rincon Beach, Puerto Rico.

Inside Tourmaline Reef

Approaching Mayaguez (landfall and possible anchorage):  I let him sleep 4 hrs then wake him up. "The chartplotter & iPad have different routing loaded. You need to be inside that reef up ahead. Good night." 

"Wait, what?  Where are we?  Hello?"  Snoring

At one point, I roll over and hear the engine power decrease.  The Captain peeks down and says we are near the anchorage so we are just crawling along.  I wake up again, an unknown amount of time later, and the boat is silent.  No engine.  No wind.  No anchor?!  "Captain?"  "CAPTAIN?!"  "I'm awake!  I was asleep, but now I'm awake!"  I bolt into the cockpit to see where we are.  He had shut everything down and we were drifting at 0.2 kts towards the reef 5 miles away.  "Lot's of time.  It would be sunrise before we made it out there."  Uh, huh.  My turn.

Facebook 6:00 am:  "Been sitting outside the harbor since 4:40 am waiting for sunrise.  Just watched the moon set.  Pretty!  I hope they let the US citizens back in without too much hassle :-/"

6:25 am Good morning, land!

Facebook, Tues 7:58 am.  Anchored. We did it. We crossed the Mona. A little rough when the wind got above 10 kts. We saw one other sailboat headed north and only two AIS targets. Lonely out there. Fishermen gave us big waves as we entered the harbor. That was nice. Coffee and brownies while we wait for Customs to return our call. We're a little punch drunk. Probably shouldn't be operating heavy machinery!  Guess we'll crash later.

Our longest and first 2-nighter. Things get interesting after 24 hrs.  Two punch drunk people driving their house.  The FAA wouldn't approve.  The whole trip is a blur, seeming like one really LONG night.  We still don't know what day it is.  We lost one in there somewhere.

After anchoring, breakfast, naps & customs, I head out on deck to see what The Captain found with the roller furler.  Our spare halyard got snagged on the top of the furler & was cut mostly through--and was still caught.  He was in the middle of a) contemplating how to get it down & b) trying to figure out how to attach a line to it, to make running the new halyard easier.  I was contemplating going up the mast (which we need to do anyway, because our anchor light is out).  While explaining all this to me, he turned away and the halyard severed, brushing by me as it landed at my feet.  "Got it!"  Huh?

Working on boats in exotic places.  PUERTO RICO!

Stats:  Total time 35.1, average speed 4.5 kts, total mileage 152.8.  1/4 of trip motored on 2 engines, 1/4 motor-sailed 2-engine & genoa, 1/2 motor-sail 1 engine & genoa.  Fuel burn 20 gallons!

Life in Luperon

The basics necessities in Luperon

As we near our uno-year anniversary, I have been working away from sharing a play-by-play of what our dias are like.  However, Luperon was such a change from our previous stops I will do it one more time.  I am disappointed with the quantity and quality of my fotos.  Apparently, we were too busy soaking up the atmosphere, looking up Spanish words in the dictionary and eating out.  The motorcycles and dogs of Luperon should have their own foto essays.  Get out your Spanish dictionary--we're becoming fluent in Spanglish. 

A typical Luperon motocicleta

We saw this moto all over town

A little different style of Luperon moto

El Capitan is fascinated by the primary mode of transportation--motorcycles.  "I had a motorcycle like that when I was a teenager!"  We've seen elderly couples with the wife riding side saddle, kids, three people on one, mothers and toddlers, people carrying a case of El Presidente or a 5 gal jug of aqua in their lap, and one guy had an outboard laying across the back--not strapped down!  When there is a near miss at the intersection (no stop light or stop sign), they laugh and wave to each other. Throw in some horses and SUV's and you've got a traffic jam. We can't help but chuckle & shake our heads.  (We highly recommend a restaurant near the intersection in town--Robert's or de la France.)

A walk over to the beach on the Atlantic side, overlooking the harbor entrance

Dia dos:  We catch the cruisers net on 72 at 8:00 am.  There is a forecast high 87 with UV 8-10 this week!  Wow.  You don't want to be out in the afternoon sun.  They report 600 boats passed through in 2004, the last statistics they have. We head to the marina and meet Veronique at the swap meet.  She answers our wifi, water and laundry questions and points us towards a residential area for a walk.  We find the abandoned Playa Hotel Luperon (huge and sad!) and end up on a dirt road with free range cows.  We follow it to the end hoping to find the playa and are rewarded with a beach front park with a bar.  We retrace our steps back to the marina and stop for lunch.  Our waitress speaks un poco Ingles, so we get out our Spanish for Cruisers book and start practicing our Spanglish.  She appreciates the gesture and she smiles and answers in tentative English.  (I finally get to use "Donde esta el bano?")  The locals are patient with calculating the exchange rate for our US dollars.  Luckily, their dialect seems more of the "casual" Spanish.  "Hola" is an appropriate greeting.  We head back to el barco for our siesta (seriously, LOVE it here) and Papo stops by to check on us--we hand over our 2 fuel jerry cans and request water (Veronique said it is 40 pesos at the store or 50 if Papo delivers--$1.  40 cents to deliver!)  We haven't found the grocery store yet, but who needs groceries when 2 people can eat out--2 rounds, BBQ special with rice & flan for dessert for $20. 

Cattle grazing near the beach

Dia tres:  Slept like a baby again.  The water is flat calm in the harbor and with a slight evening breeze off the mountains.  Its's Monday so we head out to find the wifi office and the bank to exchange some pesos (Luperon is all cash--no credit cards accepted anywhere).  El Capitan and I compete to see who can communicate with the locals.

El Presidente y Ron Fruitas

Dia cuatro:  We head in to Wendy's to meet Kelly Nicole and the Ag agent at 2:00 pm for her birthday beer.  We meet several members of her familia before we end up going to dinner with her and her husband at Putula's Restaurant (possibly our best & cheapest meal yet).  As usual, the resident perro, a tiny chihuahua named Chiquita, befriends El Capitan.  If you ignore her, she will bit your toes.  No bueno en flip flops.

This dog lives across from Wendy's & guards his territory from above

This little guy is named Buttercup & loves El Capitan.  One day he met us at the dock and followed us around town all day.  Here, he appeared under my chair at Wendy's.

This is Chiquita from Putula's.  The toe biter.  Why do they all love laying on my backpack?

Dia cinco:  We decide to share a rental car with Kelly Nicole so we can run into Puerto Plata to do some provisioning.  Papo comes by the boat and tosses the keys to The Captain.  No paperwork, no map, no walk around.  "Call me on the radio when you get back.  It's the black SUV on the dock." We guess it's actually Papo's car which is confirmed when everyone waves as we head through town. It's an hour drive through winding country roads dodging motorcycles, horses, dogs and the occasional car.  Everyone rides the center line apparently to dodge potholes.  We only saw two street signs on the way out and one on the way back. 

Puerto Plata is crazy.  Motorcycles are passing on the left and right and sometimes driving on the wrong side of the road.  They use them as moto taxis.  People walk out of the grocery store with groceries and hop on the back of a waiting motorcycle!  After a quick stop at both groceries for reconnaissance, we park on the Malcon along the beach and start looking for restaurants.  Suddenly, one of the guards from the government dock appears before us--he lives in Puerto Plata!  He walks us down to his favorite restaurant, joins us for a cerveza, then takes the men to the Dominican cigar factory while the "women go shop".  

Too tired to do the cable car or drive by the waterfalls, we head back towards Luperon.  We get almost no pictures on the burros grazing on the side of the road or the cattle blocking the road, but we when we hang a camera out to snap a young man on horseback, he smiles and waves!  Suddenly, we're back in Luperon and everyone is waving. I much prefer it aqui. 

The government dinghy dock needs a little work.  Luckily, this is low tide!

The local fishing boats

Dia seis:  Papo delivers 7-5 gal bottles of aqua.  We discovered a tear in our genoa on the way in, so we head into town to buy some sail cloth and successfully communicate with the local sailmaker.  (I guess our pleasantries were passable because we got a handshake after our greeting.  A good sign.)  We rush back to dump in the water, then I drag El Capitan back for one more meal at La Galeria. The owner waits on us this time and again we practice our Spanish while he practices his English. He patiently teaches El Capitan to say plantana for verde banana (he already knows frita!). We get a complimentary appetizer, complimentary drinks, and have some wonderful coconut ice cream with pineapple preserves for dessert. 

We spend the evening discussing our routing.  We are only supposed to stop at "designated" anchorages but the only one between Luperon and Samana is Puerto Plata, which is not  recommended because of commercial traffic.  All the stops recommended in #Thornless are "unofficial".  Our despacho clears us directly to Samana and will require explaining to any officials that show up at the boat that we are just "stopping temporarily to rest." Definitely skipping Soshua.  Possibly Rio San Juan.  Maybe Escondido.  (Kelly Nicole is contemplating all the way to Puerto Rico.  We won't be doing that.)   

We fell in love with Luperon.  It is a beautiful Caribbean island with a hispanic culture, soil and lush green foliage, abundant cattle, fresh produce and very happy people. Oh, and the food!  We love seafood but lobster and conch, all meals actually, were expensive in the Bahamas. And why go to the store, cook, and do dishes when you can have a leisurely lunch on the patio (the big meal of the day) for $20/2 people then retire for a seista?  The beautiful harbor--no, it's not the clear blue, sandy harbors of the Bahamas where you can hop in for a quick swim when it gets warm, but the mountains provide protection and beautiful sunrises and sunsets. We slept like the dead here, probably the calm water and cool breezes off the mountain. Yes, the still air meant bugs but only for a little while in the morning and evening.  I finally got to dust of my 4 years of Spanish lessons, but the Captain was just as eager to communicate ("Hey, you used a new word!  What does that mean?!").  We reluctantly plan our departure, knowing we will spend some more time in Samana and can always head farther down the east coast. When can still practice our Spanish in Puerto Rico, at the Wal Mart!  

We will definitely be back to the Luperon.