The Voyage of Spectacle

Our original plan, made some 12 months ago, called for a stop in the Dominican Republic around now.  Although this stop was later revised out of existence (until, of course, we ended up halfway needing to stop), I still remembered that baseball season was in full swing in late January.

Upon our arrival in Puerto Plata, I immediately checked the internet to see what the beisbol happenings were, and I was pleased to see that we were just a two days away from the beginning of the Dominican championship series between Licey and Aguilas Cibaenas, the two most storied teams in the Dominican Republic.  This is a major rivalry – trust me and this two-year-old article from the S.F. Chronicle (although they are dead-ass wrong about who the “Yankees” are).

Aguilas is the “new money” club.  Although they have been around for 70 years, eight of their 19 titles have come in the last 12 years.  Of the two, they have a richer owner and a more mercenary attitude – a bit like the Yankees. 

Licey is the more “old-school” of the two clubs.  In existence since 1907, Licey also has 19 titles, but most of theirs came back when the Celtics were good at basketball.  Licey also has a reputation of being much more community friendly and having a stronger interest in developing young talent.

The winner of this series goes on to play in the Caribbean World Series, an annual tournament between the D.R., Mexico, Puerto Rico and Venezuela.  The Dominican champion has won six of the last 10 Caribbean World Series titles, so one could make the argument that the Dominican championship series is the “real” Caribbean World Series.

It would be hard to find something more “up our alley” than this.  Obviously, we had to go.

This is a best-of-nine series, and Game One was played at the 18,077-seat Estadio Cibao in Santiago, about a one-hour drive from Puerto Plata.  Given the insane nature of automotive transportation here, we opted to pay to have Roberto (our “fixer” – more on him and his family later) rent a car, and he came with us to Santiago.

Roberto is a Licey fan.  Given their (1) underdog nature, (2) general “good-guy” role, and, most importantly, (3) lovely blue uniforms, Melissa also became a “Liceyita” after stating “I like blue.”  I, on the other hand, decided to try to experience what it’s like to be a Yankee fan.  I became an “Aguilucho.”

Roberto has been absolutely fantastic, and one reason for this is that he really knows where the good restaurants are.  About 15 minutes outside of Puerto Plata, he pulled off the road and down a dirt driveway.  At the bottom of the driveway was a pile of burning trash and about 25 cars parked in a disorganized jumble.  This is where we’re having lunch, eh?

We walked up the hill to the jam-packed Restaurant Jhony, which was tremendous.  Delicious grilled lobsters all around, cold Presidentes, cheap bill.  Perfect.  Roberto is a wise man.

Eventually, we made it to Santiago, the Dominican  Republic’s second-largest city.  I can’t say I’d recommend Santiago to you.  Puerto Plata has poverty and garbage (we’re not staying at the surrounding Potemkin tourist villages, but its character more than compensates).  Not much character in Santiago.

As we tried to park the car and scalp some tickets, we were absolutely mobbed – and this was four hours before game time.  After we picked up some hats (Licey for Melissa and Roberto, Aguilas for me), it only got worse.  Random men on the street would (good naturedly and always with a smile) make all sorts of throat-slashing gestures at Melissa and offer concomitant comments regarding Licey’s chances.  Trying to scalp tickets in a foreign language is tough enough if you have a seating chart of the stadium; without one, you’re just asking to be ripped off.

Eventually, we convinced some Aguilas officials to let us in to see the stadium so we could figure out the section in which we should buy tickets.  They were very nice, and it was cool to see a bit of batting practice with essentially no one else inside.

We headed back outside, negotiated with about eight different scalpers, and secured three tickets about 20 rows behind the first base dugout for $40 each.  Tickets in hand, we decided to walk through Santiago in search of a pre-game libation.  This proved surprisingly taxing.  In our quest for a beer, we walked over a bridge, looked to the right, were startled, and had to take a picture.  I’ll let it speak for itself.  We ended up at a surprisingly charming car-wash-by-day, roadhouse-by-night establishment, had a few Presidentes, and made it back to the stadium.

Inside, the atmosphere was great.  Melissa took extensive video, and eventually we’ll get some of it up on the site.  Santiago native Jose Lima (yes, that Jose Lima) was on the hill for Aguilas, clearly “representing” for his people, and soft-throwing journeyman (to say the least) left-handed gringo sacrifice Lindsay Gulin was pitching for Licey.

In the top of the first, Lima took his usual histrionics completely over the top, nearly being ejected for arguing balls and strikes.  He then proceeded to set down Licey in order and mostly shut them down for nearly seven innings. 

Señor Gulin didn’t have such a nice time.  Before leaving the game, he faced four batters. Two of them hit home runs and all of them scored.  Aguilas ended up with a 6-0 lead by the end of the first.  Given that (a) Estadio Cibao has 18,077 seats and only one gate, and (b) everyone here is on “Island Time,” the game was essentially over when the stadium was no more than 1/3 full.  These people make Dodgers fans look prompt.  This wasn’t a problem for us.  Roberto had clearly never seen either of these teams play in person.  He was thrilled just to be there, even if his team was getting killed.  Melissa and I were able to enjoy the Aguilas mascot (easily the greatest, most arrogant and aggressive sports mascot I’ve ever seen).  This guy is awesome enough that he has a real chance of being killed in the line of duty.  He taunted Licey batters in a manner that would get him fined/expelled in any American major league sport and placed him well within blast radius of a late-fouled pitch from a right-handed batter.

We also were able to enjoy the Aguilas Cheerleaders.  I will not in any way be in trouble with Melissa for telling you that the women in the Dominican Republic are beyond beautiful.  The Dominican is also a highly machismo culture in which female beauty is overly exalted (not quite like Venezuela, but you get the idea) and other female contributions are mostly ignored.  Given these circumstances, let’s just say that jobs with the top-of-the-dugout-dancing Aguilas cheerleaders are certainly hard to get, and the talent on display reflects this.  If any American Major League Baseball team instituted dugout-top dance teams, you’d think it was stupid, even if the dancers were this caliente.  And, yet, this certainly was not stupid – along with the mascot, it helped create a home-field advantage that you otherwise simply can’t get in an 18,077-seat stadium.  It was intimidating.  Licey was in big trouble.

After a few innings, the only Aguilas player not to have a hit was Miguel Tejada.  Yes, THAT Miguel Tejada – 2002 American League MVP Miguel Tejada.  This was Major-League caliber baseball (with at least 8 Major Leaguers on the field), and these fans know what they are expecting to see.  By the 8th inning, Tejada rectified the situation, golfing an ankle-high fastball over the left-field wall for a two-run homer that put the game out of reach.  Aguilas ended up winning the game 9-3 and winning the series five games to two.  Damn Yankees.  More Pictures

I’ve had at least 10 people ask me if I plan on reviewing restaurants during our trip. 

Of course I am. 

You will notice a new link under “Basics” called “The Spectacle Guide to Dining Around the World” which will contain our continually updated restaurant ratings as well as detailed rating criteria. 

We decided to leave Tortola around 2:30 p.m. yesterday and head for Jost van Dyke, the nearby “out island” that is home to two legendary beach bars – Foxy’s and Soggy Dollar Bar — and very little else.  The thought was that we’d get to JvD around 4:30, anchor the boat, dinghy ashore, check out of BVI customs and immigration, have dinner and a few drinks at Foxy’s, dinghy back out to the boat, and sail overnight to St. Martin.

We actually managed to get off the dock just after 2:30.  It was strange saying good-bye to three different boats we had encountered in multiple locations already, knowing that, this time, we were unlikely to see them again.  I suppose we should get used to that.

Having FINALLY gotten our batteries replaced, we now no longer need to be tied to something hard – we can finally “anchor out” like proper sailors.

Anchoring is surprisingly difficult for many, many sailor – it is probably the one thing that most boat owners are slightly afraid of, and for good reason.  People often times make complete … well … spectacles of themselves as they attempt to park the boat.

I am pleased to report that our maiden anchoring was absolutely flawless.  We planned it out well and executed it perfectly.  This was a strong point for each of us back in sailing school, and, apparently, we remember what we were taught.

Our maiden post-anchoring dinghy ride, however, was not so flawless.  We managed to get the dinghy to Foxy’s dock right at 5:00.  Melissa jumped off and sprinted for customs.  Alas, we had missed them.  So, we’d have to stay overnight – no big deal.  St. Martin can wait one more day.

Foxy’s might be the single most-famous beach bar in the entire Caribbean, if not the world.  We felt like we “needed to do it” but expected to be put off by excess commercialism in the vein of Hard Rock Café.  Boy, were we wrong.

Yes, it has a very large T-shirt shop/boutique, and they do a very brisk business.  But Foxy’s puts out a tremendous product.  The bar is great.  The drinks are creative and tasty.  The staff is fantastic and professional, and the food was surprisingly delicious.  We were a little bit hesitant to pay $28 apiece for a “Beach BBQ,” but this was fantastic food – ribs of near-Twin Anchors quality, the best jerk chicken either of us have ever had, corn that was downright memorable (now that’s saying something).  It was a bargain at twice the price.  Foxy’s certainly doesn’t need me to tell you how great it is.  The word is already out.  But it isn’t popular by accident.

“Several” (ahem) Dread Fox cocktails later, we walked down to the dock to get on the dinghy and head back to the boat.

It was sinking.  Seriously – it was SINKING!  The left pontoon was basically flat and submerged.  We got into the boat, thinking we might just be able to make it back to Spectacle.  Totally wrong.  All we did was make it worse, instantly.

Melissa jumped back on the dock, losing a flip-flop, grabbed the waterproof bag, as we prepared to “save” the outboard.  I jumped into the water … which, thankfully, was only about four feet deep.  I managed to wrestle the outboard off the boat and onto the dock, and we eventually retrieved the boat as well and dragged it onto the beach.  However, it’s pretty clear that we’ve got a fairly meaningful “slow leak” in the dinghy (and not that slow, apparently).  Add that to the list of repairs.

We caught a ride out to the boat, slept pretty well (no paranoid middle-of-the-night dashes on deck to check the anchor), and caught a ride back in the next morning.  After reinflating the dinghy and checking out of customs, we marched (sans dinghy) over the hill to Soggy Dollar Bar.  This was quite a hot, steep and lengthy shlep, but it was worth it.  The bar is not really the allure – it’s just ok.  The beach, however, is fantastic.  We put away a few Painkillers, opted for a cab (pretty tough to find on a tiny island) back to Foxy’s, and managed to get the dinghy towed back out to Spectacle.  Then we put the dinghy on the davits, pulled up the anchor, and headed off for an overnight sail to St. Martin.  More Pictures

We had a blessedly uneventful 18-hour overnight trip from Jost van Dyke to St. Martin.  Having been here for less than a day, we have a sneaking suspicion that we are going to absolutely love this place.  We got off to a very auspicious start – a delicious light lunch with a bottle of better-than-decent Chablis, followed by a nap, followed by a fantastic dinner at Le Cottage in nearby Grand Case.  This was EASILY the finest meal we have eaten since our departure.  I intend to write it up for the Dining Guide soon. We gave it 6 Anchors, a score we do not award lightly.  If they moved the restaurant to Turks & Caicos, they could charge whatever they wanted and be packed every night.  As it stands, they are doing quite a brisk business.

It is nice to be in a place where the streets are clean; the cars are new, small and functional; the weather is agreeable; the beaches are gorgeous; the bread is fresh; the cheese is unpasteurized; the wine is inexpensive and of generally moderate or better quality; and the people are a seemingly happy mix of the best parts of French, Dutch and Caribbean who really seem to want to be here.  This, mind you, is the French side.  I’m not so sure how we’ll feel about the Dutch side.  I’m told there is quite a difference.

This marina – Marina Fort Louis – is outstanding.  Melissa is already deeply in love with the kid that helped us med-moor the boat today.  His name is Ian.  By the way, he’s 19.

Yeah, we’re going to like it here just fine.

Our initial suspicions have been confirmed — the food here is generally excellent.  I cannot say enough good things about the quality of the eating here – our high expectations have been easily surpassed.  This will be reflected in the Dining Guide entries.