Sadly, I’ve been mostly limited to the central area this trip. I’m here for work, not play. The same was true of Puerto Rico, of course, but there I had more time to work in a more-organized and less-interesting archive.
Central Santo Domingo — the Zona Colonial and Gazcué — have no areas of truly concentrated desperation that I could find tucked away within them. Nor do they appear to have any areas of concentrated nice, the kind of wealth amid poverty that makes you want to don a Ché Guevara T-shirt and start hollering, “¡Hasta la victoria siempre!”
Traffic is chaotic, and it’s not helped by the guaguas, private minibuses that ply most of the city’s routes despite an attempt to establish a municipal bus system. Nor is it helped by the paucity of signage — you need to navigate by vector in most parts of this town. I do not know whether that is the cause of the effect of the fact that Dominicans appear to pay even less attention to speed limits, posted signage (when it exists), or traffic lights than Mexicans.