Miches Part 3

Demonstrating proper form when posing on a fourwheeler

After a few trips down the beach on the fourwheeler and a few dips in the ocean, we played in the sand and took pictures. Then, at dusk we packed up our things and hit the road. When we reached the main drag in Miches we turned in the opposite direction from home. When I consulted Bobby, it explained that we were going to a nearby town for some cheese. By about halfway there, I was tired of the bumpy road and really indifferent to the experience of getting cheese, but also mildly amused at how parallel it paralleled the tradition of visiting the cheese factory in Tillamook.

Gracia, Julieta, Yonathan, Libby, Criseida, Vivi

The cheese turned out to consist of balls the size of tennis balls that had the texture of fresh mozarella and tasted of raw milk and, strangely, straw. For the next two hours I was miserable and tired, shivering in the back of the truck as it tossed me up and down all the way to El Seibo.

I emerge from a sandy grave

On the outskirts of town we passed a check point where some kind of officer in uniform who asked to see the permit for the pistol it turns out Jesus had brought on the trip. Although he was able to provide it, he did so in such a manner that the officer became unpleasant, looking for a reason to hold us up longer. The result was that we were made to go to the police station with an official escort. At that point I knew my way home, so I walked. I later heard from Jesus that he had loitered inside the police station until the escort was gone and the simply drove away.

Time to go home