Cabrera, Northwestern Paradise - Dominican Republic

When I first got married, we spent a lot of time in Cabrera. Amalio's dad and sisters still live in the campo they grew up in, and despite the four hour trip in public transportation, it was a nice respite from the hustle and bustle of the city.

We now have cars, and the drive is easier than public transportation. But we also have three kids and, between us, I think four thousand jobs. It makes getting to the campo a little harder.

I do love the beach. LOVE the beach. So, the fact that Cabrera has some of the most beautiful - and kid friendly - beaches on the island, we often head up on our free days. 

When we do make the trip, we always go to the beach and hop around the small ocean-front town. Playa Diamante is our favorite - it's a lagoon with no waves and waist high, crystalline waters. The sand is soft and the kids can play without fear of the waves. We also love Playa El Caleton - a fun beach with modern art sculptures representative of the local indigenous tribe (long extinct) adorning the coastal cliffs. The water is deeper than at Diamante, but the waves aren't strong and the beach is shady and relaxing.  Our last go-to beach is La Entrada, a bit further out of town. A river meets the ocean and the beach goes on for days. People swim in the river and in the ocean. The food shacks along the beach have fresh fried fish and other delicious local food. 

When we leave the beach, head into town and get ice cream from the local Bon Heladeria, and head to the malecon, a walk-way overlooking the cliffs of Cabrera, to eat our treats. We drive through town - sometimes visiting family and friends before heading back up the mountain to where we'll stay. 

 My sister in law has a cute garden where we pick cherry tomatoes and starfruit, and my father-in-law has a conuco - a piece of land used for cultivating root vegetables like yucca, sweet potatoes, and taro root. The kids can spend time running free and breathing fresh air, helping their grandpop with moving the cows and feeding chickens. They play with their cousins and eat fruit from the trees. 

The trips to the campo are often too short, but sweet. Filled with laughter and fun. There is no better place to visit family than in Cabrera - we're lucky to have a reason to return so frequently!

samil's vacation

samil left on saturday to visit his grandpop. francisco lives the rural life - takes care of cows and chickens and ... well, mostly he is samil's hero. for a little boy who lives to milk cows and take rides on the motorbike, life in the campo is the best thing since sliced bread.

there are some animals near us - we don't live completely in the city, there are some animals - and a fair amount of open spaces, but it's not the same. 

so, since april, samil's been begging to go stay with papa vaca. i wasn't so sure, so i kept my mouth shut. amalio, however, stuck his foot in it and told samil that once school was over he could go. and so, on wednesday, when we picked up the sixteen page report card (seriously? he wipes his butt and says please and thank you, that's all i need to know), samil started asking when he could come.

"mami, put your hands up next to my hands. that's how many days i'm going to stay with papa."

honestly, i figured he would last two days and come home with amalio. 

nope.

he's still there. and when we ask he says, "mami, put your hands up. i have my hands up but take away three fingers. that's how many days are left."

"do you know how many days that is?"

"mucho!"

creepy crawler

has anyone seen this bug before?

it was about the size of my hand and had pincers like a crab coming from it's "head" area. at first we thought it was a flying cockroach, so the ladies tried to kill it with a sandal, but the thing would just.not.die.

reason number #243 why i can't live in the campo full time.

welcome, baby.

this little guy was born last thursday. i missed his birth by one day (live-births, the geeky-parents dream... child-of-the-geeky-parents' nightmare, i 'm sure).

he was all wobbly legged still, but samil and amely were able to "help" him milk, and learned all about milk-production (the breastfeeding mothers guide to milk production... from a cow!)

samil loves to help papa with the animals, but he won't really get too close during the milking process. he helps open the gate and will even run the cows from field to field, but milking freaks him out.

not amely.

my father-in-law will only let her in with this cow because if you'd let her, she'd ride the mama and put the baby on a leash. or take a bath with the milk. or! drink the milk right from the udder.

there are two more calves on the way and we might actually make it to the first birth mid-may.

color del campo

i spent the weekend in the campo with the kids - we didn't really do much besides visit (and i did a lot of reading/planning). i don't have a great camera - in fact, i usually use my blackberry's built-in, but here are some pictures just of the color. i love the countryside and small villages throughout the country. simple lifestyle, laid-back. i couldn't do it full-time, but it's a great break from my "real life".

this is the way we milk a cow.

last weekend, the dominican republic celebrated their independence (from haiti, i think), and since independence is a pretty big deal, we got a three day weekend. while most of the country flocked to carnaval celebrations, we piled into a van with some friends and headed to the campo to visit amalio's dad and hit the beach.
samil's been begging to see his "papa" for awhile now, but since he lives so far away and we're not montados in our own car, it's hard unless there are a significant amount of "no school days." luckily, we got a ride this time around.
samil loves his papa, but really what he loves is taking care of the vacas, which he'll classify for you as mommy cows, toros and becerritos - why he doesn't know the word for a heifer in spanish is beyond me - his only association with farm animals is most definitely not in english.
amely likes animals - and she's definitely more daring around them, grabbing chihuahuas and carrying cats - but she also likes to sleep in (mostly because she doesn't sleep at night), so she never really had experienced the milking process before this weekend. she got up early with her brother, and waited patiently (because they were awake before the farmer!) for papa to get back with the cows.
samil has gone from passive observer to gate-keeper for the calves. he opens and closes the door when papa tells him to. he also gets to walk the cows to pasture which he thinks is pretty cool, especially since papa let him take the calves all by himself - he ran them up the hill yelling "go baby cows, run, run, fast!" and was pretty concerned when he couldn't get the fence closed - he doesn't realize how dumb cows are yet... i mean what other animal lets a four-year old herd them?

amely loves the milk donkey - but she didn't get to see him this visit - in fact, it was raining so hard, i didn't even hear him pull up, and caught this picture of him leaving!

milk pick up

 

my father and two sister-in-laws live in the campo. basically, they don't live in the city. i mean, it's more complicated than that, but the campo is rural - which, for me, is anything not in a big, dominican city. 

my sister-in-law has a butcher shop in her house. and a colmado, a kind of everything you need corner-store, where the neighbors hang out and dance merengue. 

it's a nice place to visit, but i wouldn't want to live there. i mean, there's running water and electricity (i know, tecnologia que se entro, mariposa! wao!) but it's cold-as-ice water straight from the river except at 3pm when it's  kind of bearable. and well, the cooking on a fire thing scares me (because there is a gas-stove, but fire-food is so much better.)

my father-in-law works a lot. life in the campo is tougher, and agriculture is just plain not easy. there are a number of cows in the family and my father-in-law is their keeper. every morning he wakes up, gets them from their pasture, brings them to a little shed, milks them and then spends the day caring for them. he's got a little conuco, a garden of sorts for root vegetables like yuca and potatoes and there are chickens running around like they own the place (they kind of do).

i worry about how much work he does - and that he hesitates to share his responsibilities with others. and i get pissed off about it often (he's been to visit us in the city four times in my seven years in  the country), and he knows that. so, i asked him about the milk he's been selling - you know, the basics, how many calves are there, how many bulls, how many bottles of milk is he getting a day and, being nosy, who's been picking it up since the old pick-up-guy moved to the capital.

he tells me, oh, don't worry - the new guy is great, he brings a jeepeta, around every morning (referring to an SUV or pickup truck). i was excited. it would make life easier for everyone. 

imagine my surprise when the milk is measured out and a donkey comes strolling up the path, laden with two huge milk containers. i call my FIL, "ey, papi! i thought you  said a jeepeta was coming?"

he looks at me, then looks at the burro and tells me, oh! his name is jeepeta!

campfire food.

let me tell you, 8 faithful readers, how much i l.o.v.e. food cooked on a fire.

when we go to the river, we take a huge pot and cook rice on the river bed. sometimes even at the beach. and every once and awhile, when my father-in-law was still married, i'd beg a fire-cooked meal when we visited.

it's rustic, for sure. it's a lot of work. especially during the rainy seasons, finding dry wood for the kindling is next to impossible. but it is so worth it.

before we climbed to the top of pico quita espuela, we stopped at the restaurant where we would eat after the climb. the ladies were in the back, in a ranchito, cooking. on. an. open. fire. i considered staying there just to smell the deliciousness.

when things got slippery and sticky on the way down the mountain (my pants were proof of how many times i fell!) i just imagined the smoky, rich flavor of that moro de habichuela negra waiting for me at the bottom. and i don't even usually like black beans and rice!

you've never had delicious until you've eaten like this!

my husband, the monkey.

i met amalio in the city.

he took a bus and wore a tie to work. his shoes were shiny and he lived in a big house in the hills.

after a few short months of knowing each other, he invited me to the campo.

a beautiful village near the ocean, lush with vegetation of all kinds. his father's house was home (at that time) to an amazing mango tree. see, not all mango trees produce good mangos - sometimes they're too stringy, or too watery. this one was just right. (it no longer produces any fruit, bad or otherwise). there's also grapefruit trees, avocado trees and a lone caimito. there are oranges of all varieties (bitter, for cooking; sweet for eating; and juice oranges) and even a mandarina or italian orange tree in the field.
these fruits come in and out of season, and whenever we visit we try to stuff our bags with as much fresh (and free) fruit we can get. when we had the car, it was insane. and last year, we received about 100 pounds of avocadoes in the mail.
my first trip to this paraiso was eye-opening. not only did amalio not grow up wearing a shirt and tie, he didn't even wear shiny shoes!
and, apparently, spent most of his time playing with machetes and milking cows. when i was pregnant with samil, at least six women told me it would be okay if i ended up having the baby at home (by accident of course) because amalio was famous for helping animals through the birthing process.
lovely.
i took my brother to visit this wonderland on his first vacation to the island... and he'll even tell you about how amalio's tiny little sister climbed up the trees to throw down the fruit. and others will recount how my brother in law would shimmy his way up coconut trees (at times that would break gym-class rope climbing records all over the united states). and while amalio loves all things campo, taking care of cows and pigs and digging for root vegetable, we rarely get to see him in the trees.

we trekked to a mountain one sunday with a group of students from the UAPA university (post forthcoming, i promise, with lots of pictures). we stopped for a break and amalio, who had been lusting over some oranges since the bottom of the hill, took advantage of the break... climbed a tree and stole some oranges.
not bad for a "not so campesino" man!

last weekend in pictures (and some words)

samil and his grandpop

look close! you can see amalio up in that tree getting some (or 27) avocadoes.

i'll have you all know that it's rumored that this man never held his own children. and here he is calming screaming amely down.

she was not happy to have her picture taken with anyone.

notice that she's crying again. the two kids on the ends aren't ours - they're just some kids who hopped in the picture

casmerlys and me.

casmerlys and amely.

samil, amalio and casmerlys - the two cousins closest in age.

five of the seven grandbabies.

i wasn't here for this and have NO idea why that bike is in the water.

the littles playing with josue. he was such a good sport about being jumped on.

going to visit the aunties.

sneaky peak.

i'm tired. it's late. but i needed to make sure the baby was asleep before i went and crawled into my bed. so, here are two pictures from our weekend in the campo to hold you all over until i get a chance to post more.

i'm well aware that no one is here to see pictures of me. just my (beautiful) children. however, it's important for everyone to see me occasionally. amely only slept while we were walking. this kid my dad calls the devil child. he's a nice kid, but believe me, you don't wanna piss him off.

my brother's been here for a month now. our neices and nephews love him, he might as well be their uncle. amely didn't want anything to do with anyone. you'll see. she's screaming in almost every single picture. (more on that later).

the cows.

while i'm talking about the fam, i might as well share their source of income... and probably clarify something.

my in-laws are not poor. they are just campesinos, farmers, people who live off the land. there exists in this country an extreme poverty - the kind of poverty that eats away at souls because there is no money and no hope. a poverty that means kids don't go to school because they have to work, because if they don't work, they don't eat. there are families who live on, yes - ON -trash dumps, who live in riverbeds because the land is free, girls destined to be sold into the rampant humantrafficking trade.

but my in-laws are not that kind of poor. they own some land, work decent jobs and have extra-income from their farm.

and that brings me to the cows, and my youngest brother-in-law. he's really a step-brother, but its all the same to the family. you know, except when he denies his siblings because he's kind of crazy. but its more him than the rest of the family.

there are cows. in total now, i think there are 18. 3 bulls and some ladies and some babies. i don't really know much about cows. in fact, i don't know much about anything farm related. i didn't even know that pigs weren't always pink or that chickens could fly... and by the way, friends, just because you see a chicken in a tree doesn't mean there is a tornado a'coming. it's just not true.

the day starts with the roosters crowing. it's not really that early if you consider that without electricity there's no way to stay up way past, say, 8:30. the "men," which usually includes a 7 year old nephew, head out to milk the cows. milk is a big source of income and they sell about 65 bottles of milk a day to local producers who then sell it to milk companies.

what strikes me though, is that its not all about the money. they sell 65 bottles a day. the rest is portioned off to neighbors who don't have cows. starting around 7am, kids start showing up with pitchers and amalio's step mom starts giving it away.

there's no recompense for the milk, no charge. there's no one keeping tabs on who took what and what they owe us... and none of this petty, "well, i give you milk, so give me your eggs." its fair. its natural, instinctual, i think for people who don't have anything and who live with and around other people who don't have anything to share everything.

i struggle with that a lot. i have a lot of things. a lot. and when i need to share it, it's really hard for me. i'm a packrat. ask my parents, they'll tell you. i save things. i might need it one day.

but it shouldn't be like that. not with material things, and not with what we can give of ourselves. i might have milk today to share... but tomorrow i might need your kind words, prayers. even if you don't want to share them with me.

i was going to write about the baby. that's what they call him, my youngest brother-in-law, but i've run out of words. i'll write about him later.

my in-laws.

i never write about my in-laws. it's not that i don't like them, it's just hard to put them in words. i decided once that i was going to move in with them for two months and write a book about the campo where they live - about the characters who make up their lives... but honestly, i can handle only about three days at a time.
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like i said, it's not that i don't like them. their life is just so different from mine. after visiting i often spend hours wondering how amalio came out the way he did. he's unlike them in so many ways. yet, so like them too.
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amalio grew up in a little, wooden house with no electricity and no running water. he walked about three miles to school each day - on the other side of the mountain - and bathed in a river. the family had a few cows, some chickens and my father-in-law worked as a gardener. there is no road or motorcycle path that takes you to where this little house was. and now there are no houses there. the family moved first to the center of the "village" to a house they built with their own hands and where his sister and her family currently live.
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about 15 years ago their mom fell ill. devastatingly ill. to the point where she could no longer cook and clean and take care of their father. with the two girls married and only the three boys at home, my father-in-law remarried. not because he didn't love his wife, but because her job as a wife was compromised and he didn't (and still doesn't) even know how to light the stove, let alone take care of himself and three sons.
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he has been married to his wife now for 14 years. amalio's mother passed away on july 4, 11 years ago this year. i never could understand how you could leave someone you love just becasue they can no longer "complete" their role as "wife."
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as i've gotten to know and grown to love my father-in-law, i've started to understand. i might now like it or agree with it, but it's a different way of life. way different. there's more to the story.


i had a chat with francisco this weekend about sharing it here and in some of my writing... he gave me his permission because he thinks it will help people understand what life is really like in this country. that it's not all crystal clear beaches and fun hikes in the mountains.

life here is different. not better. not worse. different. and its time to share more deeply that what makes us different really just illuminates what makes us the same.

superfunsamilsunday

in case you didn't remember... we spent the weekend in cabrera visiting amalio's family and voting this weekend. and when i say visiting, i mean, going to the beach. and being tourists. our friends went with us which gave us the perfect excuse to see everything we normally forget about.

this is us on the cliffs.

samil and emily in front of the virgin of the rock.
samil l.o.v.e.d the beach. i see a sandbox in the near future.
samil and his uncle raul trying out their sunglasses together.