Return to the Dominican Republic

The plane circling and descending. The left wingtip seemingly planted on a mountain rising into the clouds. Glimpses of the beach ahead. Rolling to a stop in a small airport. The humidity soaking into my clothes as I walk through Customs. Assaulted by taxi drivers seeking a gringo fare. Walking through the parking lot, past tourist buses to a shady spot where the motorcycle taxis wait for native fares. Freedom at last, perched on a motorcycle, headed 6 miles east to Sosua. Mike Green was already at a hotel table filled with old, cynical expats slowly drinking themselves into irrelevance. Mike and I headed to the beach, where we relaxed in the shade and decided on how we were to explore this version of Paradise. For Mike, a first time traveller here, the sights, sounds, and smells are a stimulating, bewildering array of new input. For me, it is refreshing and invigorating -- vivir la buena vida.