Jason Carpintero
March 21, 2003
3:15 p.m.
Punta Cana

I am looking out of the window of the plane as we move off of the main runway in Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. It is hard to believe that we are finally here. It looks so bright and sunny here, a lot different that what we left in Cincinnati, where it was cool and raining. The captain of the plane tells us that the expected weather is sunny and looking at 92 degrees. I step off the plane to feel the sun nice and toasty. It is much warmer than I expected. I can almost feel the perspiration begin to bead across my forehead as I am stepping onto the Dominican ground for the first time in my life. It is so nice here that I can see why people would want to come here all year round.

Immediately I notice that the airport is not what I expected. I am standing here on the tarmac between the plane and what I am guessing is the airport terminal. Everyone is walking toward the open building like they have expected this all along. Not me. I see the brown thatch roof of the building looking as if they had just patched the holes yesterday. The brown grass like reeds lie in layers upon layers with the ends blowing back and forth with the warm breeze.

I hear the beat of a drum and the shaking of maracas as I step underneath the pavilion. I see the immigration booth set up where I need to go first. Wow this is so wonderful. To be here in the Dominican Republic waiting in line to get my tourist visa so that I can stay in the country for a week as we do research.

I know as I am taking in all of the surroundings, noticing the buildings and the people as they go by, I can’t help but wonder how my wife, Linda, is taking all of this. I did a folknographic project in Mexico in December. I know a little about the routine, but Linda is new to all of this and I wonder if she is as excited as I am.

We get to the booth and pay the required ten dollars each for the tourist visa and straggle off to one corner to fill ours out as a group. It seems as though it is always the same information that we have to provide: our name, address, phone number, where we are going, how long we will be there, and so on. It seems as though everyone will know all of this information, as many times as I have given it today. Oh well, that is the way that it goes I guess.

We are driving now from Punta Cana to San Pedro. We are in a large van that they call a tour bus. The entire stack of luggage is in the back two seats. If we stop fast, I am afraid that it will all come flying forward. I am sitting in the front seat just behind the driver. Dr. Lucas is talking with him, finding out some of the local information. I am listening and I can’t help but to think that Dr. Lucas is doing some of his own Folknography study on this trip as well. I am feeling a bit cramped. I wanted to sit here because of the two open seats and Linda and I can sit together. Yet, I am now very uncomfortable. The engine is right below us and the floor of the bus is elevated almost six inches. It is hard to keep my legs bent at this angle for very long.

The driver is now asking if any of us need to stop to use the bathroom. We don’t need to but he is waiting to pull into a shop anyway. I think that maybe he needs to use the bathroom or he just wants to give us a chance to do some souvenir shopping.

We are finally here at the dormitory. It is almost 6:45 in the evening and we are now in the city of San Pedro. Of course this is Atlantic Time zone now and we are an hour ahead of home. I see the building where we are to stay as it rises up before us. It is supposed to be new. I think that it is new. As a matter of fact, it is so new that they are still working on the outside of the building. The outer wall surrounding the dormitory is still unfinished at the top and is unpainted. The whole city reminds me of the trip to Mexico. All of the houses have walls surrounding the property. The driveways are all blocked with massive iron gates. We will see how this goes from here…