I drank a café con leche in Santo Domingo today. I consider it quite an accomplishment.
My limited wardrobe is soaking up the humidity. I will wear all clothing on the return flight (extra humidity charge, I've been told. No, the locals aren't pulling my pants).
Ok, more of La República Dominicana (with more to come):
Santo Domingo has the pleasure of holding up the stoney entablatures of the home of Diego Columbus (yes, that Columbus; son of who moved to the DR to take up residence and more or less to run the place while old dad was imprisoned in Portugal, and subsequently died thereabouts. So much for "founding-rights'll get you an out-of-jail-free card".)
View from the Cafe across from Columbus square (some great local fruit), and a really old church. The oldest one in the Americas. Gothic architecture inside. The only one in the Americas. Otherwise quite boring, really. Lots of talk of popes and saints; Catholic churches... I did manage to decipher some Latin on-site and that was a little fun. The Latin's a little rusty, but not as rusty as the nails I saw 4-day old meat hanging from along the side roads somewhere between the towns of La Romana and San Pedro de Marcoris. The locals say they salt it. But not right away. Odd that not a single fly seemed to be passing by. They have a solution for this older, grayish meat. Something to do about a sour orange marinade that kills and restores.
Santo Domingo's old city is Caribbean-colourful. Lots of things falling apart, too.
Dominican taxis. Not kidding.
I bought some chocolate cigars. I have no idea how to smoke them, but the scent overpowered the sense.