Peace Corps Prom Part 2

Between my barrio of Los Angeles and Centro Olympico where I switch buses to go downtown there are three elevados. These overpasses form big, even arches over the thoroughfares of Santo Domingo. Three quarters of the way up the last one, the guagua's poor engine finally gave out. Out went the cobrador (guy who handles the money for the driver) in search of help. No sooner had I begun to wonder what the heck I would do, than along came another guagua to push us from behind. We after the summit, we literally coasted all the way to my stop.

Some of my scouts playing volleyball

As I walked down the Avenida Máximo Gomez and the purple sky flashed with distant lightening, it occurred to me that this was only my third time to make this trip and my first ever to do it alone. I was relieved to find the vespertine streets replete with people in an atmosphere not unlike a street fair. As I went through the Plaza de Cultura, I was reminded that what made the scene more convivial was the annual book fair being held there.

From my last week in El Seibo: Putting on the radio show

Night had fallen by the time I made it to the pension. There I hung in the lobby with some volunteers and watched basketball. Some decided it would be a good idea to go to Hard Rock Cafe a few blocks from our final destination and take in the rest of the game. Being in need of someone to show me the way and feeling no particular hurry, I decided to join them.