Damn the cold slap of reality. I've been back a week, but slow to renew my bloviating, due to a nagging virus and an overwhelming workload. While the former remains, the latter has subsided and I'm back to dish out my usual complaints.
However, I have none about my time in the Dominican Republic. The weather was tropical and the landscape was picturesque, but it was the people that won me over. Though a good many live in poverty (rice farming is the primary occupation in the town where I stayed: San Francisco de Marcoris), it doesn't affect their generous spirit, buoyed by an uncomplicated life where the names Nick and Jessica and George W. and Howard Dean are barely uttered.
Of course, upon landing at Atlanta's airport, I was greeted with a barrage of periodicals fretting about the future of Brangelina, and other such meaningless people. My usual contempt for our cultural pettiness has only increased, as has my desire to comb the world (preferably via the back road).
I've posted a photoblog/journal of my trip here. (Check my links section, as well).
***That's me in the photo, captured at a San Francisco Gigantes game in the Dominican.
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