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A DR Saturday

The Dominican Republic 1973

By Barbara Jo Shipka

February 23^rd, 2015

I was teaching at a Canadian nickel mining company private school in the center of The Dominican Republic.

We were required to live in a fenced-in company compound with gates and guards.

Other than an old bike for getting around the compound, I didn’t have any wheels that year.

I had mentioned to Buddy, another teacher at the school, that I’d really like to see more of the surrounding country.

One Saturday he suggested that he, his daughter Tina, and I drive into the nearby mountains.

Along the way we met this boy who climbed a tree to pick fresh coconuts for us.

Don’t miss Tina’s sweet face in the back seat.

We stopped to watch some farmers crossing the swollen river on horseback to take their bananas to market.

And we came upon a village where a local merengue band was playing. It was the first time I had heard merengue music.

When we got home, Mike was waiting for me. He was a Peace Corps volunteer in a town about two hours north.

Sometimes on Saturdays he would drive down on his bike to pick me up.

We would drive another hour beyond to some beach on the north coast.

I never knew when he was coming because we had no phones.

I was glad he waited. But then, he knew we couldn’t be far away or long in returning.

This Saturday we drove through the last light of the afternoon and into the evening to get to a beach east of Puerto Plata.

We crossed a small river on a plank bridge and passed through villages that had no electricity to camp in the quiet under the stars.

Today this beach is lined with tourist hotels and the beach is crowded with people.

These images are scans of 35mm slides that are more than forty years old. While the quality may not be great, they still serve to tell a sweet story!

These images are scans of 35mm slides that are more than forty years old. While the quality may not be great, they still serve to tell a sweet story!

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