Story of how excellently our Holy Week started.
It is 11th April, Monday, few days before Easter Holidays. In Dominican Republic they call it Semana Santa or Holy Week. For locals it basically means- whole country celebrates since Thursday until Sunday. Loud music everywhere, beaches overcrowded with people and country changes itself to chaos (not that every day would look different for regular tourist).
Everything was fine until we left the house. As Slovaks living in the Dominican Republic, who are aware that Semana Santa is coming, we decided to make a big purchase for us for a whole week, so that we do not have to go to the store and spend hours there with the locals when they start coming on Wednesday or Thursday from all over the country. We wrote down what we were going to cook, made a list of everything and went to the store. Here, sometimes to hit the right time in the afternoon so that one does not spend an hour in a row at the cash register or to have something left to choose from over-the-counter sales requires a little magic. They will sell out all meat and other meat products and they do not care more. They did their work for that day and that's it. At the beginning it looked like we hit a good time, because there weren't many people in the store and there was a lot of products everywhere. Well, I was wrong. Since it was after 5 pm, crowds of people appeared out of nowhere, who went shopping in big style while the shelves were full. We were lucky and managed to come to the cash register before they did. And this is where the whole tragedy-comedy begins.
While we were trying to complete the purchase, our clients wrote us that they ran out of gas for cooking and they had no hot water (in the DR it works by filling propane-butane tanks on conventional gas stations, known in our country as LPG and these are connected to stoves and water heaters). No problem, we'll be home in a few minutes and we'll change it. We threw it on the belt, asked the gentleman behind the cash register, who usually helps to put stuff in bags, put it only in our basket, so we would strategically sort it out into bags outside the store to be able to take it home by motorbike.
As we were sorting things in the parking lot from a basket into bags, a young lady a few meters away from us was about to leave with her quad bike. She was not able to start it. As we looked at each other, because we had a lesson from the last days that it has already happened to us (bike repaired 2 times and still without a final solution), I stated that: "haha, I hope that does not await us, too" . The motorcycle, which sometimes looks like a moving or heavy truck, was ready for departure - a bag under the feet, the other in a case, something in the space under the seat, 2 backpacks. We are in Dominican republic, let's do it their way. They transport literally everything on bikes- water bottles, gas bombs, another 3-4 passengers, fences, mirrors, windows or furniture. The next level will be the wall or the whole house. Only then one does realize that safety behind the wheel is just a relic. With a little soul, I pressed the starter button and it worked. I was relieved. But I didn't forgot to note that I would appreciate if it would not die at the first corner. I had no idea how fast things could come true. I don't know if I have the gift to predict / feel the future or that it is real that we have to just pay attention to our wishes and what we say loud.
We set off and at the first crossroads we crossed the drainage canal which was a bit wide and it slammed with us as we were heavy and motorbike said goodbye to us. Cars behind us, unbelievable traffic everywhere. So I tried to start and without success. The verbal fun became a reality. Life in the Caribbean is obviously very simple and boring, it needs to be spiced up. We jumped off and I started pushing it to the next store, so that we don't camp in the middle of the street with a huge purchase, but let us rather be in front of the store under security cameras. Dominicans, with this as regular daily reality, immediately came up and asked what was going on and if we ran out of gas. Some of them want to help, some just see the business. When we finally managed to get the bike in front of the store I tried everything I could to start. However, bike could not have started and repair is imposible, because there is almost nothing to be done without tools. I understood we were not getting home quickly, so strategy games started in our heads about what to do first- outside 30°C (86F), on the ground there were bags with frozen products, concrete radiated to about 50°C (122F) and home is about 4km (2.5mi) away. We wrote to friends if they could help us - either in person or if they did not have contact on taxi service. We also wrote to taxi drivers and they told us that they would be happy to take us... for 600 pesos (about 10 euros, 11 USD) 4 km from the shop to home. Well thank you. In the end, we were saved by our Italian friend, who did not ask anything and said without hesitation that in approx. 20 minutes she would be there.
While we were waiting for her, Tina went to the store to buy some water or buy chicken meat, which we did not find in the previous store. Of course, the employees of the store, seeing the pretty blonde, never hesitate and eagerly want to help. One came and started asking if she needed help and what she was looking for. She told him that she was not looking for anything, because there was nothing there anyway. And when she saw the way of selling meat, she lost the urge to look for something. One would expect to find it in a refrigerated box packaged or someone preparing it as a counter sale. I was wrong. The meat was placed in a paper box wrapped in a plastic bag and there was one "hygienic" pick-up bag. Well, no thanks. She bought water and walked away. And while I was working to see if I could start the bike, there were a few guys who wanted to help. And they all look like rocket engineers and try all the usual things as I am only an idiot and rided a motorcycle for the first time. It doesn't even help to explain that we have already tried everything and that it happened a few days ago and we cannot figure out what causes it and that the motorcycle will then start normally anyway. So, of course, each of them had to try how long the battery would last, and they were pressing the starter like crazy, probably believing that they would experience the magical feeling and succeed. Then shop guy came again as a savior. Of course, he asked the same things again, he started catching the handlebars and pressing the starter looking like he would make it on 250th attempt, and when he couldn't, he thought of an ingenious idea - "I'll use the pedal and mechanically kick the engine the old way." A thing that normally works if it fails to start with a electronic starter. But the pedal hadn't been used since the purchase, and in that dusty, salty environment, the cogwheels got stuck, and when he stepped on it with all his power, they got dislocated and remained stuck. The pedal did not go back to its original position, so there was no option of another starting with an electric starter, because it made sounds like when an animal was being abused. I was sorry for the bike, even though I was pissed. And when the savior realized that he screwed it, he just announced that someone was calling him from the store and disappeared discreetly. We haven't seen him anymore.
The moment of the arrival of our Italian savior has come. Not only our friend get out of the car, but she also brought her father and announced that her boyfriend was on the way there. Aw jeees... They starred comforting us, loading things into the car, trying to fix the kick pedal, thinking about which mechanic we could take it to at half past seven in the evening. A normal person would grab things and help. But the Italian takes the whole family and then helps. So we loaded the purchase into the car and it was time to split up. We shared instructions and operations could have begun. The female part went home to put all the stuff into the fridge and replace the bomb with gas and the male part went to look for a mechanic. But how to get a motorbike 2kms to the mechanic shop? The Dominican way, of course. The second biker sticks out his leg and pushes the first bike to the finish line.
We got there, the mechanic still at work. He shouted straight out, that we should drag it into the yard, so they would take a look. The mess and disorder there was so big that it looked like a maintenance shop with a motorcycle cemetery 2-in-1. I did not mind, especially if he understands what he does. So he lit a lamp that shone like an old mom's kerosene lamp, so we used lamps in our cell phones so he could have seen at least a little. I have to admit that the management of the helpers got me impressed because he gave incomprehensible instructions and the young man (probably his son) always brought the right tool with correct size. Somehow he managed to put down the cover from the engine and transmission. He found the misaligned wheels there. It couldn't be aligned back straight, so he understood that he had to pull it out and get it back piece by piece. But it didn't work. Nothing had been lubricated with oil or even used for over a year. So he really pulled it hard but still without success. And in our country (obviously not only in our country) we have the rule "if it does not go by force, apply more". So he picked up a hammer and slammed it so hard that I thought for a moment that engine would fall out from the other side. I started sweating, but I believed he knew what he was doing. He managed to pull it out, but it was still necessary to separate cogwheel from the pedal arm. So they took a wedge, put it on the wheel of the car and started slamming. It fell out on the 10th strike. So he lubricated it and started getting back. He mounted the cogwheels, installed the cover and started. For a few seconds it was running well, then something metal began to rattle. So he turned it off, disassembled it again, and found that it got misaligned again. So he aligned it, put it together, tried again and... obviously failed again.
And while he was playing with my bike, my girlfriend called me that she managed to solve the gas issue with one of our client. But I heard in her voice that something was not OK. So she said that when she came home, she went to fix the gas and when they replaced the bottle, she sat down and said that it was too much for one day. Clients gently announced that neither the Internet does not work since there was electricity outage. What electricity outage for god sake? It had happened few minutes before gas ran out. Oh... So she called me on Whatsapp to find out what she was supposed to do because she could not only sit there pretending she would fix it, but it needed an actual fix. And since I was among buildings with lot of metal parts on them, I was not able to catch LTE Internet. Evening could not have been prettier ?? so I was standing on the street to have at least some signal, the mechanics mounted and dismounted the motorbike and I was trying to navigate my girlfriend through the modem menu to see if there is an internet problem on our side or on the providers . We found out that everything is OK at our house , so we need to talk to the Internet provider emergency line. On their website can be found completely everything not related to business itself- even local news, country news, or show-business, just not the emergency contact.
So she kept looking for and I went to find out whether a motorbike will run that day on not. When he mounted it third time and still didn't work, annoyingly he disassembled it and told me he was putting it together without pedal because it was too late and he wanted to go home. But when we looked at the ground, there was a pile of components I didn't know if they were just from my motorbike or there had been already there before. So he took all the cogwheels, components, screws and bolts and put them into the bag, threw them into the trunk and told me to come in the morning. I asked him if it is possible to ride it when he all disassembled it. So he smiled and told me I can ride the bike as I want, but only a mechanical start is no longer possible. Never mind, I had never done it manually anyway. And then question of money for work came. He asked for half-assembled motorbike and for actually (not) repairing neither primary nor secondary problem 1000pesos (about 16 EUR, 18 USD). I looked at him if he was serious, but I told myself I wouldn't try his goodness and that I would rather go to the ATM. Tina forwarded me a conversation with the support with Internet provider that they knew about an outage, but it would be fixed probably in the morning of next day because it's already evening. Waaaaaaa ...
At the ATM I found out I have money on another account and that I need the Internet connection to log into internet banking and to move it to the other account. Of course, even mobile internet connection suddenly did not work, where it usually works. 5 minutes of nerves, swearing (the securety in front of the Bank probably thought of his), but I succeeded- got my money, paid for service and went home lighter of 1000pes, a pedal disassembled in the trunk, the primary problem still present like grenade lurking for the most unfavorable moment to explode and so I would walk home again.
It was time to solve the Internet connection issue. Since the LTE signal in the house is not stable, I thought we would try to use the Internet from the neighbors, but no one was at home. After couple of minutes we managed to get working wifi network in the house. We gave the guests bottle of wine (which I looked forward to drink in the evening) as an apology. They just supported us, cheered up and we finally went home. We had glass of rum, chatted together, lamented, laughed, another and more round of rum came, And finally we found out that at least we do not have a boring life and that everything went well.
And this is how we live here... with love, in peace until actual party time did not come. But the party story is to be continued...