All Is Well In Zion

 

Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God hath shined. - Psalm 50:2

The Other Santo Domingo

While at a tourist attraction in East Santo Domingo, we peered over a stone fence and to my pleasant surprise found a cockfighting club across the street. To spend a few hours watching sparing roosters was on my “to do” list, but we didn't know if we'd have time. Now that we had found one across the road, it would be a piece of cake to work into our schedule. 

When we were done visiting the tourist attraction we entered the streets of Santo Domingo via the only exit available. All we had to do was turn right and follow the sidewalk to the far side of the block, then cross the street. But it wasn't that easy. 

As soon as we started walking, we were stopped by a group of police. “Where are you going?” they asked. I don't remember if I spoke in English or Spanish, but replied that we wanted to walk to the Club Gallistico. He immediately shook his head and said, “No, you can't do that. That's too dangerous.” He fed us with more mumbo jumbo, then offered to find a taxi driver to take us elsewhere. 

Man fishing with a can in the Caribbean Sea, Santo Domingo.

Street sweeper.

He walked inside the tourist attraction (and probably found one of his friends), and came out with a guy willing to drive us. We didn't need to go much further. Maybe a mile. He dropped us off and we spent an hour at the “Columbus Lighthouse.” 

After that I didn't know where to go. Here, there were no taxis, the parking lot was empty, and no sign of public transportation. I saw someone walk across the street toward another neighborhood. I thought that would be a good idea. 

But once again, we were stopped by police before we got to the road. “Where are you going?” 

“Over there to find something to eat,” I said. 

Once again he shook his head and said, “You can't do that. It's too dangerous.” 

He walked over to talk to one of his buddies, then returned to us. “Come with me,” he said. Within a minute we were in the back of his police car! 

We didn't know how this would turn out. There are all sorts of stories about corrupt cops and kidnappings in third-world countries. What were they going to do with us? 

But we didn't drive far. Probably less than a mile. 

He pulled over next to a small beater car with a cracked windshield. The driver was sound asleep on the seat. The police had to knock on the window to wake him up. He lurched suddenly before he realized what was going on. 

“Can you take these two to their hotel?” 

So he was finding us a taxi driver. I suppose the police were just trying to keep us safe. They probably felt there were certain areas in the city where tourists didn't belong. I thank them for this, but still wish I could have watched my rooster fight. 

The police told us to be sure to agree on a price before we left, which we did. But the driver claimed that the drive was further than he expected and tried to charge us more. Such shenanigans were common in Santo Domingo. 

Obelisk of Santo Domingo.

Man washing a minivan.

I loved my stay in this Dominican capital city. As I have written earlier, part of this city has an Old World charm. But as is true with any place, it also has a rougher, seedier side. As this story illustrates, not all is romantic in Santo Domingo. 

Some areas of the city had trash strewn everywhere as if it were a communal dumpster. Above every street seemed to be strung a dozen power lines, appearing like a tangled mess behind a television set. Dogs and cats roamed wherever they pleased. 

Streets of Santo Domingo below a tangle of wires.

Watching the street was a twisted pleasure. Traffic was pure chaos with no regulations at most intersections, compelling all to fend for themselves. Stop signs often meant nothing. They loved to honk. Potholes were everywhere. 

Mopeds were a popular choice of transport and were often used to transfer entire families, as well as loads of material in the way we would use the bed of a truck. 

One mode of public transportation that is popular among locals are beat-up minivans called públicos. When I say beat-up, I really mean it. Usually the sliding door is either open or missing and they drive down the road with a guy standing at the door (probably to take the money). Most of the ones I saw were old dented up Daihatsu's that looked like terrorist vehicles. Apparently they have fixed routes and are very inexpensive. 

Minivan taxis, or públicos, in Chinatown, Santo Domingo.

We were also surprised to learn that Santo Domingo has a Chinatown. Located northwest of the Colonial Zone, it is complete with a welcoming paifang, several Chinese restaurants, statues and food carts. I would have explored, but with our limited time I was more interested in finding the authentic Dominican Town. 

Once we had a crazy lady yell at us continuously for five minutes from the other side of the street. The rant had something to do with America, the Central Bank and the poor. She admitted she was crazy. 

A game of basketball in Santo Domingo.

A friendly game of checkers is a common sight on streets.

For the most part we felt safe in Santo Domingo, but perhaps that is because we stayed in the safer zones like Ciudad Colonial and Gazcue. Like Mexico, it seemed to be highly militarized. I went to an ATM and not only found a line of people, but also men in military uniforms toting automatic rifles.

Probably the biggest concern were the hustlers. These are the vendors on the streets or taxi drivers who are always ready to swindle a few extra dollars from naive tourists. It's a game you learn as you go. Almost every visitor will be taken advantage a time or two.  

Having said that, Santo Domingo is a wonderful city. One of the things I liked most was watching all the families. Sometimes it feels as if the family is a dying breed in the U.S., but in the D.R., it is alive and well. On Saturday night, at the Plaza Juan Barón, we found a carnival with amusement rides, cotton candy and karaoke. Mothers and fathers were there with their toddlers while teenagers ran free, moving from ride to ride. It was a chaotically crazy environment, but a fun one. The plaza sat next to the sea, inviting a warm Caribbean breeze. We bought some yaniqueques before returning to our room. 

Carnival with amusement rides at Plaza Juan Barón.

A friendly group of girls.

The city certainly came alive at night no matter where you were at. It seemed as if music blared from every street corner and every store front. Old men sat outside on the street and watched the people. Sometimes they played dominoes or chess. They didn't have much, but were happy to be alive—and enjoying life. 

On our final night in Santo Domingo, we decided not to take a taxi back to our hotel from the Colonial Zone. Instead, we would walk the one mile distance on a pedestrian street called Calle El Conde. It turned out to be the most lively place of the evening. 

Storefronts were open, artists sold paintings, men played checkers, hustlers pushed to sell their wares. Jenelle bought some larimar from a tall guy that looked and sounded like a Haitian immigrant. He wore his hair in dreadlocks and reminded me of Bob Marley. He was very nice, but we had to haggle him down on price. 

Pedestrian street of Calle el Conde.

Typical modern art in Santo Domingo.

The pedestrian street was well lit, but after we got to Independence Park we had to be on our toes. We stopped by our room to drop off what we'd bought, then returned to the street for one last hurrah in Santo Domingo. 

We walked for five minutes along empty streets to a mini market we had spotted earlier. We ordered four sandwiches, two for now and two for tomorrow at the airport. We sat on plastic chairs in front of the store, out in the open air. The night was winding down. The occasional van or moped sped past. The ice cream shop next door was closing up. It gave us time to take it all in. 

If I ever get the chance to return to Santo Domingo, I would do it in a heartbeat. It is a very photogenic and charming city, full of energy, but rough around the edges. And no, we didn't make it to a cockfight. That will be first on our agenda next time we come! ♠

Our final night in Santo Domingo, eating at a Mini Market.

 

Old Santo Domingo

Church of Santa Bárbara.

As we flew over the northern coast of the Dominican Republic on our way to Santo Domingo, I was excited to look down and take note that we were flying over the Bay of La Isabela. Although from 30,000 feet we couldn't see any detail, I knew that somewhere down there were the ruins of La Isabela, the first European settlement in the New World. 

La Isabela was founded by Christopher Columbus on January 2, 1494 after arriving in the New World on his second voyage. (He had established an “encampment” just 100 miles to the west on his first voyage where he left 38 men, but they were all killed by native Taino.) 

La Isabela struggled to survive and soon the settlers abandoned it in favor of yet another location. On the southern coast of Hispanola, the brother of The Admiral had founded a new city which he named La Nueva Isabela after the previous settlement in the north. In 1495 the name was changed to Santo Domingo. It is the oldest city in the Western Hemisphere of European origin. 

Looking across the Ozama River from the fortress.

Statue of Columbus in the eponymous plaza.

Lying on the west bank of the Ozama River, the Colonial Zone of Santo Domingo gives the feeling of walking the streets of Spain. The architecture is old. There are churches, a cathedral, plazas, cobblestone streets, statues, palaces and forts. I read that there are over 300 buildings that date back to the colonial era. This city proves to be offspring of the Motherland. 

From our hotel we took a taxi to the city center, following what seemed a complicated route of narrow streets cluttered with traffic, single-storied pastel buildings and a tangle of electrical wires strung overhead. At the terminus of Arzobispo Nouel Street our ride came to an end. We paid the driver 200 pesos and quickly emptied out onto a street in Santo Domingo. 

View of the Consistory Palace.

In front of us, beyond an old stone wall, stood the Cathedral of Santa Maria la Menor. I was excited to see this because it was the first foreign cathedral I had seen outside of Europe. My first observation was that it was smaller than most cathedrals I had seen, and perhaps a bit more simple in architecture. That isn't to say it wasn't ornate in its own right. It still had a Gothic fling, several carved statues and other bas-relief designs. The color, a pale brown, reminded me of the cathedral in Seville, a city that was the gateway for many trans-Atlantic voyages. 

The Santo Domingo Cathedral is the oldest cathedral in the New World. It was begun in 1514 and completed in 1541. At one time it housed the remains of Christopher Columbus. The interior is modest in size, but still has a high vaulted ceiling with large pillars coming down between the pews. There are a handful of paintings along with small chapels on the outer walls. As is common in many cathedrals, there are burials of notable people. 

Cathedral of Santa Maria la Menor, also known as Santo Domingo Cathedral.

West face of cathedral.

Interior of cathedral.

Just north of the cathedral is Columbus Park. In the center is a statue of Christopher Columbus pointing into the distance. It reminded me of a statue in Barcelona, Spain at the end of the Rambla where he is pointing toward the New World. On the western side of the plaza, at the entrance of Calle El Conde, is a smaller statue of the bust of Bartolomé Colón, the Admiral's younger brother and founder of the city. 

The plaza was a lively place. Families strolled in the park while kids had fun playing with hundreds of pigeons that flocked to the quaint square. A band played a festive tune. 

Columbus Park.

Bust of Bartolomé Colón, the Admiral's younger brother and founder of the city.

Not far from the cathedral was the Ozama Fortress, located on the west bank of the Ozama River. Built in 1502, it is the oldest military construction of European origin in the Western Hemisphere. 

The stone structure was open to the public and we climbed the stairs of the main tower to a commanding view of the river. With a little imagination I could see what it must have been like over 500 years ago, protecting the city from pirates and other foreign invaders. 

The stone castle not only served as a fortress, but tunnels and dungeons within functioned as prisons. Columbus himself was imprisoned here. 

Ozama Fortress.

Well manicured grounds of Ozama Fortress.

From the fortress we continued northward along Calle Las Damas, a street lined with colonial buildings which just happens to be the oldest paved street in the Americas. We passed the pantheon on our left, and then a small chapel with a campanile on our right before coming to a plaza in front of the Museum of Royal Houses. 

Santo Domingo was particularly alive this evening. Families were out on walks and it appeared as if many were dressed in their Sunday best, as if going to a dance or celebration. Jenelle surmised that many of the young girls we saw dressed up may have been celebrating their quinceañera, a popular event in Latin America that celebrates the girl's fifteenth birthday. 

Young lady dressed up, perhaps for her quinceañera.

Family riding bicycles.

There was street food being sold, but not as much as I had seen in other countries. I found a lady pulling a cart with plastic sampling trays. For 75 pesos I bought a tray that had a croquet, quepa, empanada and a couple other items. 

On the other side of the plaza was another stone building, this one two stories tall with an arched balcony. This one was called the Alcázar de Colón, or Columbus Palace. And, you guessed it, it is the oldest palace in the Americas. 

Commissioned by King Ferdinand II of Aragon, the mansion was built to house Columbus' oldest son, Diego, and his descendents. It also served as a meeting place for conquistadors like Hernán Cortés to draw up plans for their expeditions of conquest. 

Columbus Palace and the Plaza de España.

Plaza Maria de Toledo.

From in front of the palace we crossed the Plaza de España, pausing to watch families out on a stroll with their children. Once again, I couldn't help but to draw similarities between here and the mother country of Spain. Every city in Spain has a Plaza de España, and usually it is the most elegant square in town. It didn't surprise me that the architects of this New World city would pattern it after the old.

Little drummer boy.

Maybe a ten minute walk from the plaza, perched on higher ground, stood one of the most picturesque buildings in all of Santo Domingo. Construction of the San Francisco Monastery began with the arrival of the Franciscan fathers in 1509. 

Once quite extensive in size, containing a chapel and numerous other buildings, the structure has been decimated several times by hurricanes, earthquakes, and ransacked by Francis Drake in 1586. Supposedly at one time the remains of Bartholomew Columbus were buried here. 

Many of the stone walls were still standing, but many have also crumbled, leaving only foundations. With vines crawling up the ancient walls, there was a ghostly aura about the place. Although we couldn't go inside, we were able to walk around the grounds and onto some of the remaining foundations. Sunset was beginning to spread its wings over the crumbling cloister just as a flock of black ravens flew overhead. It was a sight to behold. There were stories—many of them—buried beneath these stones, some to be uncovered by the diligent seeker, with others to stay interred forever. 

Sunset over San Francisco Monastery.

Doorways in the Colonial Zone.

Emiliano Tejera Street looking toward monestery.

A couple days later we returned to the Colonial Zone. It wasn't quite as lively this time. Perhaps that was because it was now Monday instead of Saturday. 

But it was still a pleasant place to stroll. Some of the plazas were nearly empty. It still reminded me of a down-sized version of Spain. Not nearly as old and not nearly as grand, but certainly special in its own right. 

We happened across the retiring of the flag at the pantheon. As the military did their duty and brought the flag down from its pole, all within sight stopped what they were doing and stood in respect. From my short experience, the Dominican people are very patriotic and proud of their country. 

Retiring of the flag.

Pantheon of the Fatherland.

Our final stop of the evening turned out to be my favorite place in all of Santo Domingo. At the north end of the Colonial Zone was the Church of Santa Bárbara. The recently renovated church was constructed in 1537. Some time after that a fort was built around the north side making it one of the oldest churches surrounded by a fort during that period. 

The plaza outside the church was very peaceful. I saw a statue of the nativity, something I'd never seen near a Catholic church. The façade of the church was in different colors, perhaps indicating it was built in stages.

Church of Santa Bárbara.

Nativity outside Santa Bárbara Church.

We didn't go inside, but were able to walk the grounds. Around back was an amphitheater. There were also several statues of what appeared to me to be freed slaves, and Christ on the cross. I don't know the meaning of the arrangement, but would be curious to find out. 

They say that there are several crypts below the church that have recently been discovered, as well as bones in the walls. Below the plaza is supposedly an old cemetery. As we walked we saw no indication of this and no explanation. I wondered if those statues may have represented those whose graves had been covered. 

In 2020 the church of Santa Bárbara became a cathedral. There were several statues in front of the newly ordained cathedral, including the martyr Santa Bárbara de Nicomedia and St. Francis de Assisi.

Beyond the cathedral near the walls of the old fort, we found a beautiful view of the city. The tangled electrical wires were a stark reminder of the chaos that also exists in Santo Domingo. But as I looked down over the charming roof of the church, all I recognized was beauty and peace. ♠

Could these statues represent freed slaves?