Hindsight

by Michelle Isom (United States of America)

Making a local connection Dominican Republic

“Oh, tu hables Español! You should’ve said!” The old man’s smile was as wide as his pockmarked, wrinkled face. Only a little bit, Tyler told him. “Estamos aprendido.” The three of us were standing in front of a church in Santo Domingo, watching congregants pour out as organ music signaled the end of the first service of the day. “This is the oldest Catholic church in the Americas,” the man told us proudly. His name was Tomás. He stood all of five feet five inches, and had a bad leg – but that did nothing to dull his vivacious energy. He had seen us staring at the building and wasted no time informing us of its history. We couldn’t go inside, he said, because it was the Día de la Altagracia, but he’d point out a few key features on the outside to us. It’d be quick. We should’ve guessed then and there, but he was charming. You know what they say about hindsight. Zona Colonial, Santo Domingo is the oldest permanent European settlement in the Americas, and Tomás’ pride for the area shone through. He explained the local history in a loud, theatrical voice that drew stares from other tourists. We didn’t mind; we were too entranced by the story that he was unraveling. And too busy attempting to translate the phrases he told us in Spanish. Despite English being his second language, he had no problems communicating why the Colonial Zone was designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. He congratulated Tyler on his impeccable Spanish – my accent, he said, needed some work. “Over here is the first European military fortress in the new world. Do you want to go up to the top of the tower?” We made our way to the solitary building when I stopped in my tracks at the sight of a dog basking in the sun. “That is my friend! Go say hi!” Tomás’ excitement was infectious and the dog wiggled her way over to us. She happily licked my outstretched hand. He explained to us Fortaleza’s–Spanish for “fortress”–story: She had been found a few years prior, near death after being hit by a car. Between Tomás, his veterinarian friend, and locals that frequented the fortress, Fortaleza was brought back to good health and cared for every day. As dog parents, this account touched Tyler and I deeply. We felt even more connected to the old Dominican man as we watched Fortaleza greet another guest. One of her legs was permanently disfigured by the accident, and I couldn’t help but think how similar she was to Tomás – seemingly broken on the outside, but with a disposition that would light up any room. We explored the fortress, and Tomás made sure that we paid attention to the walls – it was built using coral from the sea, and the fossilized shapes of the ocean were forever etched in its history. We took in the views from the top of the tower – blue skies and ocean as far as the eye could see. After having us struggle to translate a sign dedicated to the son of Columbus, Tomás ushered us into the Pantheon of the Fatherland. He explained that there were gifts from Hitler and Mussolini within the building. Could we find them? After staring at some grates for a few moments, the shapes of swastikas stood out to us. There was a moment of heaviness as we took in the fact that the fascist reach had extended to this little Caribbean island. Tyler and I were feeling ready for lunch and unsure how to end this unexpected tour. “Tenemos mucho hambre, mi amigo,” Tyler said. No worries. Just around the corner is the oldest pub in the new world! You should eat there! We had arrived at the final stop. Tyler leaned over to hand him 500 Dominican pesos, or about ten dollars. “No, no, no, the tour is THIRTY dollars.” Like I said, we should’ve known. We felt slightly bamboozled. But the truth is, that tour was worth the thirty dollars and more. I doubt we’ll ever see him again, but his energy left a lasting impression on us won’t soon be forgotten.