Santo Domingo, almost forgotten

In the minds of most Americans, the Dominican Republic conjures up images of idyllic beaches and coconuts.  Cheap flights, white sands, palm trees and all-inclusives along the Caribbean waters.  While all those things are the image of relaxation and certainly a vacation ideal, the Dominican Republic is so much more.  It's capital, Santo Domingo, is the most populated city in the Caribbean.

And yet Santo Domingo is a city that frankly doesn't get much attention.  Punta Cana is undoubtedly the international star of the island.  Most Caribbean Latinos that are "in-the-know" also favor the rising resort town of La Romana nearby the capital.  Yet I've heard very few people say they're planning any trips to Santo Domingo.

Part of the reason may be that there is a massive lack of celebrity icon in Sant Domingo.  Perhaps even across the Dominican as a whole.  We rode into town in our taxi along the Santo Domingo Malecón.  The boardwalk seemed empty of tourists.  Only small groups of Dominicans or couples strolling along the ocean walkway.  As with any city I visit for the first time,  I looked for something recognizable.  Something I've maybe seen somewhere before. Something from the internet, from Instagram, from a movie?  Nothing. Just a city completely unfamiliar.

Certainly there are parts of this city that have some claim to fame.  My favorite street in Santo Domingo, Calle Hostos, was used in the Godfather 2 (although the scene was set to take place in Cuba).  

Perhaps this is just me.  I'm honestly one of the few people I know who nerds out about this kinda stuff.  But Santo Domingo has a rich and layered history as old as all of Latin America.  But when I learned that Santo Domingo is the oldest continually inhabited European settlement in the Americas, that the city was founded in 1496 by Bartholomew Columbus and the city is home to the oldest cathedral in the Americas - I knew I had to visit. 

Catedral Primada de America or the Basilica Cathedral of Santa Maria la menor, had its foundation stone laid by none other than Diego Colombus.  Though it's not the most beautiful cathedral I've seen, it's history is wildly significant.

Columbus arrival in the modern day Dominican saw the beginning of the radical reshaping of the Americas and the first of the greater Antilles to be discovered was the island of Hispaniola.  The Dominican Republic covers the majority of the island and shares Hispaniola with the nation of Haiti.  The combined populations of Haiti and the Dominican Republic make Hispaniola the most populous island in the Carribean.  Like all the greater Antilles islands of the Spanish West Indies, Hispaniola was originally inhabited by Native Americans.  The largest group being the peaceful Taino.  

As I've written in my previous posts, the Taino, the West African slaves and the Spanish colonizers were the primary forces that shaped the West Indies and the new Latino cultures that have since emerged on each island.  The Dominican Republic has a very shaky and turbulent history - even for the Caribbean.  Through fits and starts, the late 18th and 19th centuries saw the Dominican colony go from a Spanish colony to a French colony, then back to a Spanish colony before following the path of Gran Colombia and declaring independence from Spain which was followed by a takeover from Haiti before returning to a Spanish colony and then finally an independent nation once again in 1865.  

The city's political and economic ups and downs have caused higher petty crime which in turn has given the jsland a bed reputation.  While taking some pictures on Calle Hostos, Berenice set her phone down on the street nearby.  The pedestrian traffic was light as it was early in the morning and it felt secure.  Of course, when Berenice went to pick up her phone it had disappeared.  As upset as any millenial, Berenice began texting her own phone and offering money for its return.  Sure enough, the phone was ransomed back for $10 American dollars.  

This story doesn't represent our experience with Santo Dominicans as a whole.  We had a very memorable visit to Faro a Colon, or as its known in English, the Colombus lighthouse.  This monument was completed in 1992, in time for the 500th year anniversary of Colombus landing jn the new world.  The building is shaped like a massive cross to represent the Christianization of the Americas.  The construction as a whole cost $70 million dollars, built in the capital of an impoverished nation.  In Spanish there is a common term for such extravagant and needless constructions: obra faraónica.  I've never visited a place more deserving of this label.  

We arrived to the lighthouse on January 1 and found that due to the New Year, the structure was closed for visitors.  Disappointed and having come from a completely different part of the city, we sat in the parking lot and began trying to call for a ride back to our hotel.  The security guard, a soft spoken and kind woman named Evelyn took pity on us and let us into the building while several soldiers kindly watched her post. 

Through all this changing of hands and French/Haitian influence, the city of Santo Domingo went onto a divergent path from its neighboring carribean capitals of San Juan and Havana.  Just like every city I've written about in my recent posts, Santo Domingo of course has the colors.  The Zona Colonial is just what you want in a city this old.  You can see and feel its age.  Though it doesn't have the layers of Havana or the polish of San Juan, Santo Domingo has local character, charm and an immensity of history.

For those looking for a city less touristic, Santo Domingo is the place.  Local friendliness runs strong here.  Though the island is far from wealthy, the economy is actually the largest in the caribbean and is growing.  A word of caution: don't set your phone down and unattended as Berenice learned the hard way!  

I had an opportunity to speak with an older local named Antonio while I was waiting for some friends outside of the Iglesia Episcopal Dominicana.  Antonio was a friendly old timer who approached me when he saw me waiting around outside the church.  

Antonio had grown up in the time of the military dictator Trujillo and remembered the later U.S. occupation followed by years of instability.  After inquiring on my accent, Antonio spoke to me at length about his nephew who had moved to my hometown of Chicago 50 years prior.  As Antonio spoke, the topic changed to his uncles, one of whom had ended up in Puerto Rico and one of whom had moved to Cuba before the Cuban revolution.  

Antonio explained to me that he had always had a fond affection for the United States despite the fact that some of Antonio's friends felt the United States was too imperial.  Antonio told me the story of his uncle in Cuba who originally moved to Cuba to buy a farm, worked and ran the farm successfully but lost it during the Cuban revolution and was unable to return to the Dominican for years due to Cuban laws.  Antonio used his uncle in Puerto Rico as an example of how often people moved around the islands and how connected Puerto Rico and the Dominican are.  I find these kinds of insights into people's lives fascinating.  Santo Domingo and San Juan share such a strong affinity there are actually 12 hour ferries that run twice a week between the two cities.  Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican have a deep and intrinsic connection that pre dates Colombus and it only seems right that these islands stay fraternal despite all that has happened since.

During all my travels around the Caribbean I've found that people want to tell me stories.  Whether it's in Cartagena, Havana, San Juan or Santo Domingo.  They want to share their lives with visitors.  They want to genuinely connect.  When I tell people like Antonio of my latino blood, they've always welcomed me as a Caribeño despite my Spanish accent screaming otherwise.