Photo: Masked marauder at La Vega

Today was Independence Day in the DR, and there were carnivals everywhere. Luis, a Dominican sailor we met in the TCI, suggested that we go to La Vega for Carnaval, and then stay at his father's house up in the mountains. So, we rented a car (a Toyota CRV) in Luperon and left for La Vega (driving southeast through Santiago), planning to meet Luis and the crew from Wind of Peace there.
By sheer good luck we were able to hook up with our friends; the parade route was packed with people, and on the side streets there were parade sponsor tents with music blaring out so loudly that it threatened to alter one's heart beat, never mind rendering speech ineffective! The main attraction in the Carnaval Parade was a procession of groups dressed in fantastic costumes (see photo above), wielding what looks like multi-coloured footballs attached to metre-long cords. The purpose of these becomes immediately clear; the wielder winds up and whacks the posterior of anyone within swinging range! Sometimes the revellers administer a simple little tap on the rear end...others crank it up like Sammy Sosa about to smash a home run into deep centre field, and try to blast the victim's buttocks to the next block. When these groups go by, one either seeks shelter by standing up against a wall or some other physical barrier (such as using one's youngest daughter as a human shield...), or else one develops eyes in the back of one's head and prepares for the inevitable ambush assault. At one point I had stepped out from the sidewalk to take a photo of the procession, and was oblivious to what was about to happen behind me...the music was loud, and it drowned out the warnings from friends and family...WHAM!! A yelp from me, and I wondered if the tethered ball the villain had nailed me with had been filled with sand as opposed to air or foam. Still, I managed a laugh and turned around to face my assailant who, obviously pleased with his handiwork, had a huge grin and a look as if to say "That was a good one, si?"
Another interesting aspect of the parade was the roadside sale of alcoholic beverages, from house balconies and even from specially-designed racks carrying numerous bottles on bicycles. Some of the bottles looked like they contained varying grades of rocket fuel, and it no doubt propelled quite a few of the parade participants over their two-mile route. At one spot Judy tried to order a non-alcoholic drink for the girls, and was given two cups of what looked like a cherry drink. The girls each had a sip and immediately gagged. Then we had a taste and also gagged; whatever it was, it was highly combustible and tasted like rancid cough syrup. Our efforts to return the drinks and get what we had wanted for the girls were shrugged off, and we ended up dumping the disgusting drinks into the gutter (apologies for any resulting fish kills, but around here I don't think it would make a difference to the ecological balance...)

After two hours of senses being overloaded (long enough for me to be able to sit again on my abused posterior), we bailed out of La Vega and followed Luis up into the mountains and to his father's house. We climbed up along switchback roads to 1900m above sea level, and had great views of the valley.

We Arrived at Luis' father's house, a big home nestled in the mountains near the town of El Rio; it felt as though we were in a chalet in the Laurentians, with cool mountain air flowing over us. We also found the house already occupied by some army and navy friends of Luis' father, who were using the place as a staging point for a rather unusual operation, namely a pre-dawn raid to oust some squatters from a friend's property. Verbal and written warnings to leave had not moved the squatters off, so perhaps an armed expedition would. Since there was enough room for all to stay in the house, we busied ourselves with settling in, while they continued with their operational planning process out on the deck.

The night air cooled us off rapidly, and soon efforts turned to getting a fire going in the fireplace. Who could have imagined that after spending the last month or so sleeping with little or no bed covers, we'd be huddled in front of a fire in the Dominican Republic trying to stay warm?