Continuing On With the Move

When I came back from Dominican Republic after the big visit to the embassy trip I was ready to do what it took to be a Dominicana. I didn't tell anyone right away, at least for the first few weeks. I can keep others secrets well, but my own secrets...well, there's really no such thing.

So I started talking. I was a waitress at Kings for almost 10 years. 4 different location. I was so worried I was going to be a lifer. So this was my only way out.(not really, but that was a big joke of us Kings long-timers)

I contacted the Dominican consulate in Philly and made a few friends there. I put my mobil home up for sale. Started selling off stuff I didn't need. Making lots of jewelry(that's what I did for some extra money after I closed my business) Sorting through my accumulated junk. Funny how I got all the junk. I kept adding more junk but didn't want to get rid of the old junk. So I bought a little bigger house so I could fit more junk. I built my own shelving so I could display all the stuff. I had a small shed out back bu had to tare that down to make room for a new and improved shed with a loft and work bench so I had room for all my tools and movers and rodatillers and all the boxes of stuff that I didn't want to get rid of but really didn't want to look at either. Its hard to belivev all the junk one can accumulate in a short time.

I was looking at things in my home town in a different light. Like it was going to be the last time I saw these things. Things did look prettier. The sun rise and sets were brighter. The green of the leaves were more vibrant. But the snow was still as cold and I realized how much I did hate being cold.

The most difficult things to sell was my camping gear. I loved to camp and I had all the gear organized in alphabetical order(that's what my friends used to tease me about).The week before I put them up for sale my aunt flew in from Chicago to make the last camping trip with me. Then it was in the paper and sold within a week. All gone for $500usd. A nice lady came with her truck and we started packing up. I was telling her all about what was there she was getting. I started crying. She felt so bad she offered not to buy the stuff. I had to sell it and she seemed nice so it was going to a good home.As she drove off with my most treasured stuff I cried. There was no turning back. I couldn't live in USA without camping and be happy.

My tools sold fast also. My electric saws. Chain saw. Rodatiller. Sanders. All went fast. This was difficult also. I was so proud of my work shop. All my tools in order on the peg board. Every nail and screw in order on the shelf by size and labled nicely. After these things went everything else was easy.

I got a stall at the Flea and was there every Sunday selling all my collected belongings.
Then the 9/11 thing happened. People went crazy. At my job customers were telling me I was abandoning my country. Some would not even sit at my tables. Before 9/11 people were interested in my moving, how it was coming along, why I was doing this, all was good. After 9/11 I was the bad guy. I was abandoning my country. I was a tractor. Even tho I had already sold half of my belongings before the attacks.I had one very large fireman almost physically attack me over his table. My manager had to take me to the bacl of the restaurant to calm down.

I was ready to fight the guy. I could have beat his fat butt, I know it! LOL!
It was time to move out on my place. I was moving in with mommy and daddy for the last month so I could pay up all my bills and get rid of my house. I was working a second waitress job at night to make more money. My son came in from Louisiana, where he was living that month, to spend me last month in USA with me. And I was giving him my truck and lots of good stuff for his apartment. It was great that he came to see me. Who would have ever known that this would be the last time I would ever see my son Billy Jay again.

Come back later for more of the story. Back to work on the web site.......

My big idea to move to Dominican Republic

I had visited Dominican Republic 3 times before. Once to Punta Cana with friends then the other 2 times alone to Santo Domingo. All within a years time.(2000)
I completely fell in love with the country and couldn't stop talking about it or thinking about it. I bought some books to learn Spanish. Bought Latin music CD's and listened to them constantly. I went to my waitress job and tried to talk Spanish to my customers. Most put up with me but others would yell at me and tell me that I was in USA and to speak English. This made me more determined to learn something that most around the small town area I lived had no desire to learn.
I worked extra hours whenever I could get them. Went to the flea market when I could and sold my jewelry I made and whatever things I had left over from my Sun-N-Moon Native Creations store that I closed down the year before. Saved up my money so I could go on vacations to DR.
On the 4th visit I got the idea that maybe I should just move to DR instead of working so hard for just a week here and a week there. I was to the point where all I thought about was what life would be like living there. I was staying in an apart hotel near the presidential palace in Gazcue. I decided I would walk to the American embassy and see what I needed to do to be able to move there.
I really didn't know where the embassy was but I had a general idea. I started out on my treks. It was hot and I was walking for a long time so I decided to head toward a little cafeteria where I made friends with the ladies that worked there. I had my lunch and enjoyed trying to communicate with my friends. One of the regular lunch guys was a taxi driver and he said he'd drive me to the embassy free so I took the offer.
He left me in front of the compound. This was pre 9/11 so there was just normal security around the place. I walked a while to find the gate. There was a little guard house and a Dominican man came out and said I couldn't enter. I tried to tell him I needed to talk to someone about moving to DR. I had no idea what he was telling me but I was very persistent.
He would not let me in. He called another man over and he tried to tell me I was not permitted in. I kept saying that I was American and wanted to talk to someone. I didn't have a passport at the time so I couldn't prove I was American which really wouldn't have mattered anyhow.
Finally the guard got on the phone and called someone to talk to me in English. The lady said that I needed to go to the consulate to get what I needed and she told me how to get there and which window to go to. Said bye to the guards and walked on trying to find the consulate.
When I did find it I couldn't believe it. It was outside and had windows with letters on them where you had to talk to the people. So I got in the line. I got to the front and they checked my purse. They wouldn't let me in! I had a camera in my purse! I tried to tell the lady to keep the camera til I was finished but she didn't speak English and I finally figured out that she was telling me there was a little door down the walk around the corner and there was police and they could hold my camera for me.
I was getting very frustrated by this time. It was hot and I was all sticky and miserable. So I went around the corner and around the next corner and finally ended up back at the gate of the consulate. There was no door that I could see! I asked again and thought I figured out where they were telling me to go and set off again.
No damn door!!!
By this time I was just thanking God that I had sun glasses on because this way no one could see me crying out of sheer frustration. I had enough. I had spent most of the day trying to get this information and I had nothing but a headache and heart pulpitations from holding in my anger.
I realized I was near a friends house in Cuidad Universaria near Lincoln. So I went to the phone and tried to call him. It took me a while to figure out how to use the pay phone which made me cry more. And as I was mumbling not nice words To myself I finally got the phone to work. My friend answered and told me to come over to his house right away.
By the time I got there Alex had already ordered me a few grande Presidente beers to ease my nerves. That beer tasted sooo good. He and his brother,Warren cooked me some Venezuelan food(they are from Venezuela. I met the Warren on the computer and we are still friends). They had a good laugh at my expense when I told my story. I had no idea that this was the norm when trying to accomplish anything in Dominican Republic.
They called my friend Carlos to come for me. He finally showed up to take me to the Colmado, to get some food and then back to the hotel.
That day was the start of me not letting the country beat me down. I loved the place more. It was the challenge maybe. Who knows. That day I was so frustrated yet my friends were there for me. They made all OK. And for sure they understood and explained to me that this is the way of life here in DR. Everything you do takes forever to accomplish. It is very frustrating. But this is life and the life style of everyday living makes up for the moments of frustration.
Note** I never did get the information I wanted. I waited until I returned to USA and called the Dominican Consulate in Philly. The people there were great and helped me get myself and my dog to finally live in Dominican Republic.
Bless their hearts!