19°44′59″ N, 70°24′29″ W

I was probably the only kid whose favorite ride at Disneyland was It’s a Small World. It’s nobody’s favorite, but I loved it; the different costumes and languages and the idea of world peace through irritatingly catchy, yet hypnotic music. I wanted snake charmers and tangos and safaris and ancient ruins. I still do. My bucket list is about 10% dreamy romantic nonsense and the rest is kooky milestones like number of continents (two left to go), latitude and longitude (Greenwich Meridian, 1986; International Date Line, 1991, Tropic of Capricorn, 2013, Arctic Circle, TBD), and number of bodies of water swam in (Indian Ocean, you are in my sights). Oh, and zorbing (admittedly, my main reason for wanting to go to New Zealand).

In all honesty, the bodies of water bit is what determined my latest journey. I really needed to get away and I’d never gone swimming in the Caribbean. That was it.

So I went to the Dominican Republic.

Part I – A Swim in the Caribbean, or Another Beach, Another Palm Tree (ABAPT)

The bit of the Caribbean I chose was Juan Dolio. It’s a beach made of tiny seashells that get stuck in your hair and palm trees and fishing boats and warm waters and rum. It’s so calm and pretty that any photograph that I took tended to look like every other picture of a tropical beach you’ve ever seen. So here’s the part where I stopped being an artist and took pretty tourist pictures.

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By the way, that was a headless palm tree that I was drawn to. Sort of like Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree – it seemed sad and I felt sorry for it.

 

Part II – Zona Colonial, or Columbus Be Damned

I spent a couple of days in the capitol, Santo Domingo, which is the oldest continually inhabited European city in the New World, founded by Columbus’ brother. It was the launching point for expeditions by Ponce de Leon, Cortes, and Balboa. Normally, I dig the old stuff, cathedrals, and ancient ruins. But so much of this is a reminder of brutal, bloody colonial rule and the slaughter of native peoples in the name of political conquest, lining one’s pockets, and god. Wandering around the Zona Colonial was interesting; you can do some serious historical name dropping here. I just didn’t have it in me to get overly thrilled about this or that crumbling bit of architecture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part III – Cabarete, or How I Got Over My Guilt About Taking Naps Instead of Awesome Pictures

If you’ve been following this blog for any length of time, you may be wondering about the fact that this trip is lacking in both quality and quantity of pictures. Normally, a huge part of any place I go near or far involves a lot of images. I tend to treat every vacation as a working vacation and few moments go undocumented. This time, I couldn’t and didn’t want to, for a number of reasons.

For one, great images are not likely to be made unless you get off the beaten track. I never did. There were no epic hikes into canyons, no climbing mountains, no scaling ancient ruins. I spent my time in surfing and swimming, listening to the sound of rain and the sound of waves. And napping. It was a hard year; I needed to put the camera down and relax for awhile. That doesn’t mean I didn’t struggle with a good bit of guilt that I really should be chasing images. Cabarete, a surf town on the north coast, and DR’s contribution to the bar, Mama Juana (a magical blend of wine, honey, rum, and herbs) helped me put things in perspective.

 

 

 

A special note. This is Luz. On my last morning in country, while I was wandering around randomly taking a few last pictures, she invited me into her home for breakfast and a chat about nothing in particular: families and food, travels and business troubles. All of a sudden, I didn’t feel like that stranger in a strange land. Thank you, Luz. I wish we’d had more time.

So, call it photographer takes a couple of weeks off. As much as I am able to.

It’s hard not to take as many images as possible when you know that you’re not likely to pass this way again. I’d like to believe that I will pass this way again. But the reality is that, however small the world might be, there are so many more amazing things and places I haven’t seen yet to return this way very soon. There will never be enough time to get all the photographs. The best that you can hope for is that you take an open mind and bring back good stories and experiences to share.