Las Cascadas

My first family outing was a trip to La Confluencia, where the Rios Yaque and Jimenoa meet, with my host mom, brother, Puchi, sister, Katerin, and my abuelo, Santo. We were picked up in the afternoon one blazing Saturday, by my grandpa driving a guagua, which is the Dominican word for a pickup truck. I was a little confused at first when I noticed that there were only two seats for 5 people. Then I realized that in a guagua you have a driver, his companion in the front seat, and then you stuff as many people as you can on the bed of the truck. This is the Dominican way. My mom and abuelo didn’t let me sit in the back, so I squeezed in the front seat with them. Santo was playing some good old merengue music, extremely loud, and he and my host mom were having a silent war over the volume control knob (I’m surprised it didn’t break). My backpack was being guarded on the bed of the truck by my brother and sister, who seemed to really enjoy the fresh air and open space of the bed of the truck.

We stopped on our way to the river to pick up some snacks, but it wasn’t too far away at all, about 5 Dominican minutes, which is really 15 minutes. Once we got to the river, there were some other families there, but it wasn’t unbearably crowded. I got to mount a horse and take a picture, as did Katerin. Puchi didn’t want to, but not because he was scared (of course). My abuelo noticed my fascination with some of the plants around me and was explaining to me how you can crunch some of the leaves and find full seeds to plant in your yard. He said he did it many times and now has trees in his yard. He also took me down the river to his favorite spot, the most beautiful view of the whole river. You can see the topography pretty well from there, but it’s really just a bunch of pine trees (but it was still really nice of him). There was a lot of horse poo on the ground so I had to watch every step I took, so I probably missed a lot of the natural beauty around me.

Katerin and Puchi finally got into the river, and I followed. The water was cold, but compared to the afternoon sun, it was really refreshing. Terrified of swallowing the water, I only waded in a little bit and found a spot where I could sit about waist deep in the water, far from any risk of getting water in my mouth. As I watched Puchi splash around, Katerin and I stayed closer to the shore and laughed at how good he was at being just a kid. After a while I guess Katerin got bored with me and she joined her brother a little farther into the river. While they treaded deeper into the water, I stayed sitting near the shore. I grew very aware of my surroundings, taking in the children splashing and screaming gaily in the water, the women gossiping, the men boasting about the strengths and abilities. I could smell corn boiling a little ways up the bank, and families preparing la bandera for each other. There was the faint sound of thunder in the distance from a rain storm brewing up the river. I could see miles of mountains, which I had hardly noticed before that moment. They were like stoic giants, guarding the horizon, and seemingly endless. Across the bank was a horse grazing in the various trees. He was pretty well hidden, in the shadows of a pine tree, and as I was admiring its ability to find a space of privacy and tranquility in such an interactive and open community, a little boy in the middle of the river shouted out “Mira! Un caballo!” drawing everyone’s attention toward the rust colored beast. The horse became an object of awe and fascination for only a moment, and once the novelty wore off, everyone returned to their conversations. I too lost interest in the inanimate creature and went back to studying the natural motion of the river.

 I let my hands explore the ground of the river, stumbling upon an infinite number of rocks and leaves. The rocks were sharp under my feet while I was wading, but sitting on them they were coated with a thin smooth blanket of clay. My fingers found some rocks that were a rust color that stood out under the water. There were also some stones that were smooth and bright blue. I started a meager collection in my lap of the blue and rust colored rocks, figuring they would make nice decoration pieces in my living room later. Conscious of the extra weight I was adding to my luggage, I was searching for only the most intriguing of the stones to keep with me for the journey back. Eventually Katerin and Puchi helped me find some keepsakes. Puchi even found a blue one shaped like a hand gun, but we left it there for some other wanderer to stumble upon. Once my collection was decent, I decided to shift my focus to looking for small, smooth, flat stones. I could fit about five in my hand without losing them to the current again, and once I had them, I showed my brother how to skip the stones down the river. It was difficult to explain how to properly throw a stone to make it ricochet off the current multiple times in a different language (skipping stones is not on the list of vocabulary words we’re taught in school).

Soon the storm that was just up the river was catching up to us, and the sky decided to pour out all the water it could muster. The rain started abruptly and almost everyone retreated up the bank to the bar or to their cars. We waited by the bar to see if the rain would subside within a reasonable time. The rain seemed to be absorbed by the river, and the water level gracefully rose without hesitation. I let my eyes wander up the bank, tracing the waterline. The horse was still on the opposite bank, in the same spot, but the water was quickly rising to meet his hooves. We eventually gave up on being able to retreat to the river, so we got back in the truck and started for home. We hadn’t been in the car for more than five minutes when the rain halted as abruptly as it started. We looked at each other and laughed; a universal communication we all shared. Katerin and Puchi had been hiding under a towel on the bed of the truck, but when they realized the rain had stopped, they emerged from under their makeshift shelter like baby sea turtles seeing above ground for the first time.

Our first trip as a group to get to see what this little town of Jarabacoa has to offer was to a waterfall called Salto Baiguate. It was probably one of the most beautiful scenes I have ever seen in my life. So we all met up at our school one afternoon after class to go on a mini adventure to the waterfalls. Greeting us at the school’s entrance was a guagua. This one was a little bigger than the one Abuelo Santo had, seating an extra three people on the interior. We, all being hungry for adventure, and exciting stories to share with our friends and families, stuffed ourselves into the guagua. This time I rode in the bed of the truck, but chose a cautious seat in the middle, right behind the backseat. Once everyone was sufficiently settled in, we took off down the street, headed out of town. We passed the dense city structure that we were used to, and into a more spread out version of our little town. We passed three fields of cows, some horses, and goats along the road. Every Dominican that we passed, adult and child alike, waved us safe travels and shouted out “Americanas!” to acknowledge our passing by. Some kids on bikes tried to race us, but eventually turned around.

We finally stopped at a sign that said “Salto Baiguate” and we knew we had arrived. We had to hike a little to get to the waterfall, but the closer we got to it, the more the earth revealed itself to us. It was much like walking through the gorges in Ithica, where you could see both the tops and trunks of trees at the same time. The sound of rushing water got louder and louder as we neared our destination. We were getting more anxious to see this natural wonder and our paces quickened, like we were being pulled in by a magnet. There was a set of stairs that took us down into the base of a waterfall. We hopped down them, trying not to fall, intimidated by how steep they were. Naturally there were a gazillion photos being snapped as soon as we caught sight of the waterfall. We were overwhelmed with being able to swim for the first time in this sweltering country, and by how beautiful everything was. There was a little cove under the waterfall that a few people were brave enough to venture out to. Still afraid of swallowing water accidentally, I stayed in waist-deep water again. We ventured around in the river, taking spunky photos of each other and the scenery. There were so many wonders to be discovered in such a small area.

We spent about two hours venturing through the rocks and water, discovering new things at every turn. A few of us wanted to get a closer look at the top of the fall, so we hiked back of the stairs in search for its source. Half way up the stairs we regretted not bringing our things with us, because it was difficult to get up them once in bathing suits and carrying nothing, let alone having to do it a second time with backpacks. The top of the waterfall was a great view. Our friends who stayed below looked like colorful specks in the water from their bathing suits, almost like fish in a pond. You could see way down the river, where there were various bends and twists hiding. After a while, I realized how far of a drop it was down the waterfall, so I inched as far away from the edge as possible. The water was so cool and fresh, and some even commented on how clean they felt for the first time in this town. We all air dried in the back of the guagua on our way back to the school, which proved to be a sufficient way to dry ourselves. We had exhausted ourselves from all of our excitement, so when I got back I ate dinner and went straight to bed, and I had the best sleep in my foreign home that I had had since I arrived.