Daniel in Dominican Republic

PHOTO CAPTIONS: 1. Malecon in Santo Domingo (Andre, Junior, Doris, Daniel), 2. Los Tres Ojos caves (Chelsea, Junior, Doris, Daniel), 3. Junior dropped off his brother and sister-in-law at church with his new motorcycle, 4. Making music in the Children's Museum, 5. View of Santo Domingo, 6-9. Riding horses to the falls in Jarabacoa, 10. Sampling Mamajuana in the Amber Museum, 11. Puerto Plata Old Town, 12. Dominican kids enjoyed Andre's driving lesson, 13-14. Teleferico, 15. a beachside cafe in Cabarete.

Daniel in Dominican Republic

Andre and I arrived at the Santo Domingo airport, after three long flights and layovers from Sao Paulo, Brazil, around midnight on Jan. 11. We picked up the mini rental car and went to Junior’s house to sleep. The next day Junior, Andre and I drove back to the airport to pick up Daniel in the afternoon around 2:00. It was really great to see him.

Daniel brought everything I’d asked him to – Maya’s hair, more ashes and some of her clothes. I really needed to touch and smell something of hers; Tom’s natural toothpaste, Colgate dental tape, and mini DV tapes for my video camera; dried mango, chocolate covered almonds, sugar-free gum, and other treats to give away as gifts; and a huge sports bag filled with deflated soccer balls, soccer shoes, shin guards, jerseys, children’s clothes, empty photo albums, and a Verizon phone to take to Haiti next week.

Daniel checked into his hotel on El Conde, the touristy pedestrian zone in the Colonial district, then we gave him a quick walking tour of the area. Our friend Nena’s cousin Doris met up with us and we strolled along the malecón, (waterfront walk) on our way to one of our favorite restaurants. After dinner, we dropped Daniel at his hotel, then drove Doris home.

On the way we encountered a common scene in Santo Domingo: a police checkpoint. I didn’t think much about it, except I was glad I had my passport with me. But they weren’t interested in me or Doris -- only the Haitian guys. While we females chatted and joked with a couple of the officers on our side of the car, three or four others pulled Andre and Junior out of the car, demanded their ID, searched their backpacks, and one of them grabbed Andre by the shirt, which really pissed him off. Haitian immigrants are a constant target for the police, usually looking to deport anyone without residency, which luckily our friends have. Before the situation escalated even more, Doris and I jumped out of the car and came to their rescue, sweet-talking everyone to calm down. Finally, without even demanding a bribe or stealing our cameras, the police let us go.

The next day was Sunday. Doris picked Daniel up to go to church, in a fully-packed group taxi. No one should visit the D.R. without that experience. Meanwhile, Andre and I spent the morning with Junior and his family in their house near the airport. When we picked up at church, Daniel surprised me by telling me how much he enjoyed it. The pastor had walked through the crowd and hit Daniel on the forehead. Immediately, Daniel felt calm and refreshed. He began to dance with the rest of the parishioners, filled with the Holy Spirit. We promised to join them next Sunday.

The five of us went for lunch, then to the Tres Ojos caves (my 4th time, twice with Maya) and the Children’s Museum (my 3rd time). Daniel enjoyed everything, but realized that 8 days in Dominican Republic is nowhere near enough time. We packed so much into this short week; Daniel will be leaving the island with lots of memories.

Our friend Lenni joined Andre, Daniel and me for a 5-day road trip. We started out in the mountains at the Gran Jimenoa Hotel. Swam in the pool, enjoyed the jacuzzi, played billards and ping pong, rode horses to the falls (4 hours in total) and ate lots of delicious Dominican food. The recent hurricane destroyed the bridge, ripped out many trees, and removed most of the vegetation along the river, which had doubled in size and force. It’s still a beautiful place, full of happy memories with Maya. I’m sure this wasn’t the last time I’ll go there.

We drove to L’Oase Hotel near Puerto Plata where Andre and I stayed in October before going to South America. Our friends Joseph and Vashti welcomed us with warmth and laughter. The biggest attraction is the racquetball court that A-player Joseph built a few years ago. Now it has AC and a resurfaced floor. We’ve gotten in quite a few good games in the three days we spent here.

We went into Puerto Plata two times, took photos where I’d taken ones of Maya before. The plaza is still torn up and the main cathedral is being renovated as well. I feel sad realizing how everything changes and nothing is the same as when Maya was here. The small beach near Cabarete where Maya fed a litter of 8 puppies is getting ready for big-time development. Already they’ve added another road, started renting dune buggies, and the number of surf schools doubled from 3 to 6. Sunbathers lined the normally empty beach and kite surfers enjoyed the wind and waves as the sky filled with dark clouds. Maya’s puppies had a few litters themselves, so Kiko, their surfer owner, got them fixed.

Maya never had the chance to take the Teleferico Italian-made cable car up to the Christ statue overlooking Puerto Plata at 2500 feet, but Andre and I did last time when we stayed at L’Oase. There’s a nice botanical garden all around the hilltop, but this time we cut our visit short because of drizzling rain. Like when Andre and I went up to the Christ statue in Rio, the views were very limited due to fog.

Our rental car is an automatic, so I gave Andre his first driving lesson in the nearly empty parking lot of the Teleferico. At first he jerked us around a lot, but quickly got the hang of it. I cringed when his friend Junior had asked him if he weren’t embarrassed that his woman can drive and he can’t. But I got my license on my 16th birthday in 1973, four years before Andre was even born. I hope I know how to drive by now. Once he gets to California, he’ll be a pro too.

Another must-see for Daniel was the German bakery I raved about in Sosua. We stocked up on dark bread, streudel, cheesecake, pretzels, and cookies and cupcakes for Lenni’s daughters who she called every day. Lenni had promised them she’d be home Friday night, so we left her at the Caribe Tours bus station in the afternoon. Daniel, Andre and I will make the four-hour drive back to the capitol today.

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

PHOTO CAPTIONS: 1-5. Andre and me, as well as millions others, pose with the Cristo statue, 6-7. Cristo souvenirs, 8-9. Friends in high places, 10-12. Friends at Ipanema Beach, 13. Famous walkway at Copacabana beach, 14-15. End of the day, 16-17. More beach shots. Who can resist?

Friday, Jan. 4, 2008: I wish I could say we’re splurging on a $60 hotel room, but actually it’s the cheapest thing we could find here in sweltering (100 degree F), overcrowded, over-priced Ipanema. It’s like Miami Beach during Spring Break, only hotter.

After trudging all around the area, only to find everything fully booked, we finally resigned ourselves to a prison cell room with a bunk bed, dresser and two noisy fans. We had to sweep the sandy floor and put on the sheets ourselves. The bathroom with cold water is one floor down. If we wanted hot water – as if! – that’s available on the first floor. The guy couldn’t find the neighbor’s Wi-Fi password for my laptop, so luckily there’s a computer for everyone to share in the “lobby.” After inquiring several times about a key to lock our room, we finally gave up, so I’ve been wearing my money belt and carrying my laptop and cameras everywhere I go.

Grouchy Andre claimed Rio was all my idea. However, I clearly remember him saying he wanted his picture with the famous Cristo statue. I would have liked to fly from Buenos Aires to Salvador de Bahia, the most interesting and most African part of Brazil, according to my traveler friends. But when I looked up the flights, Salvador was twice the price of Rio. The bus would have been cheaper, but it takes 45 hours to Rio and another 24 to Salvador.

So here we are. Actually, once we both calmed down, and the temperature dropped slightly, we enjoyed walking along the famous Ipanema Beach. The women are world-class gorgeous and the bathing suits skimpy. Supposedly, the same word in Portuguese means bikini and dental floss. I remember a song from my childhood that goes: “She wore an itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini for the first time in history.” Well, you won’t catch me in one of those, even in Rio. Sorry, guys.

Andre had a hard time remembering the names of the beaches, Ipanema and Copacabana, but again, a song came to my mind: “Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking and when she passes, each guy she passes goes, ‘Ahhh.’” I was even going “Ahhh” myself.

Saturday, Jan. 5, 2008: Of course, we had to visit the famous Christ statue overlooking the city. According to the guidebook, he’s spreading his arms as if he’s about to dive into the bay. We had to wait an hour-and-a-half and pay $20 each for a round-trip ticket on the train/trolley to the hilltop, but it was well worth it. I especially loved watching all the people pose for photos, many with their arms outstretched, as if they were ready to dive into the bay as well.

Just our luck, the day was foggy and misty with absolutely no view of the city or water below. But good news, the heat had backed down to a comfortable 80 degrees., a bit cooler than the night before. The tram reminded me of the one to Victorian Peak in Hong Kong that Maya and I rode together, so I sprinkled some of her ashes out the window as we passed the Jardim Mil Flores, Garden of 1000 Flowers.

Afterwards, Andre and I walked the entire length of Copacabana, definitely one of the world’s longest stretches of white sandy beach. Even though it wasn’t as hot as the day before, the beach was packed with families, couples, kids, and vendors. We bought coconut juice, a skewer of BBQ shrimp, something they call tapioca that has no resemblance to pudding, and homemade mango ice pops. Who needs lunch?

Sunday, Jan. 6, 2008: We went to a big arts & crafts fair in the plaza. Some of the items reminded me of street fairs in Santa Cruz. But there were also lots of Rio souvenirs. And of course we had to buy some, despite the high prices -- a Kaká (don’t laugh. He’s probably the best Brazilian soccer player today) t-shirt for Andre’s little nephew Joel; a safari hat with the Brazilian flag on it for Andre and he actually wears it; 2 picture frames with “Maya Angela” written in colorful letters, one for me, one for Daniel; a sarong of the Brazilian flag which we’ve been using as a beach towel; and a little handmade purse I couldn’t resist.

We walked over to Ipanema Beach again and I decided to go into the water. Andre listened to his iPod and watched our stuff while I went back and forth between the ocean and the trash can. I fished out all kinds of garbage, including a ton of plastic bags, candy wrappers, milk cartons, two aerosol cans, and the door to a dorm fridge. Andre asked me if I thought I could clean the whole ocean. No, but I like to do my little bit.

Suddenly I remembered my money belt, which unfortunately, was still around my waist. We laid out the travelers’ checks, cash from several countries, yellow fever certificate, and passport in the sun to dry. All were salvaged by some miracle.

We discovered a nice buffet next door to our hostel for our last meal in Rio. Like so many in Brazil, they weigh your plate after you pick out what you want and charge you accordingly. I like that better than normal buffets which encourage overeating. I even had some tofu and sushi. Andre likes Brazilian food because it reminds him of Haitian food. The two cultures are very close, with their African roots.

Happy New Year in Buenos Aires

PHOTO CAPTIONS: 1. San Telmo street fair, 2. Steffi with her namesake, 3. a San Telmo resident, 4. poster for the march on Dec. 31, 5-6. March in remembrance of the young victims from the Republic of Cromañon, 7-11. New Year's Eve with my cousins.

Buenos Aires with my cousins -- Dec. 28

PHOTO CAPTIONS: 1. My cousins Steffi, Julie, and all their kids greeted us at our hotel, 2. Andre and my cousins, 3. On the Dancing Lady Bridge over the Rio de la Plata, 4. Steffi and her daughter Alex in front of the bridge, 5. At the Hilton Hotel, 6. Jessica and Jason who married in Puerto Rico Aug. 6, 2006, 7. Our friend Hubert in white, with his cousin Alfonso (L) and Andre (R) in front of the Casa Rosada, national palace.

Andre and I arrived in Buenos Aires in the early afternoon on Dec. 28. I checked email and found an invitation to celebrate my cousin Julie’s 53rd birthday the next day. So after settling in at our favorite hotel in the San Telmo district, we went around the corner to check in with Hubert and his cousin Alfonso. They had a rooftop suite at a youth hostel, very modern and roomy, with a terrace looking down on Chile Street.

We invited them to cruise the Florida pedestrian shopping area, which is always lively with street vendors and entertainers. On the way we stopped at the Casa Rosada where the casino workers were protesting. Police in riot gear were lining up in case the crowd got out of control. It seems like there are always political protests in Buenos Aires -- and lots of political graffiti.

The next day, Hubert and Alfonso invited Andre to hang out with them for several hours. I felt like a mom whose kid goes off to preschool for the first time. What to do first with my precious free time? I didn’t know whether to spend the whole time walking or writing. So I did both. I had hoped to go to a travel agent to get our tickets to Rio, but every agency that I was passed was only open weekdays. So I had to do it online.

That evening, all 8 cousins descended on our hotel at once: Steffi and her daughter Alex, Julie and her three kids Jason, Gannon and Martin, Jason’s wife Jessica, and Zack’s daughter Lily. What a wonderful surprise. We took lots of group shots of the historic occasion. Everyone was looking so great. We Bronsteins don’t get older, we get better. Julie, who resembles Meryl Streep and just turned 53, doesn’t even have a wrinkle.

Jessica and Jason were married on August 6, 2006 in Puerto Rico. Their wedding provided Maya with a final family reunion. The next day we flew to Santo Domingo and met Andre. I stayed with J&J in their Manhattan apartment on my way back from Dominican Republic last April.

Gannon is the reason everyone ended up in Buenos Aires for the holidays. Just 18, this is her first solo trip abroad. She’s been living in Argentina for 6 weeks now, with plans to stay another couple of months, and maybe travel around a bit after finishing her volunteer work as an English teacher.

Andre was a bit overwhelmed by the masses of new relatives. Like I’ve said before, I’m only child so my cousins are like siblings to me. Zack’s the oldest, then Steffi, Julie and I’m the baby. Everyone was so nice to Andre and took turns talking to him as we all walked along the riverfront. By 9:00 p.m. it was just getting dark. They were ready to hop into cabs and go out to eat in the ritzy Palermo district. Andre and I decided to walk back to our hotel instead. We’re still not used to these late night hours in Buenos Aires.