It was a typical morning in Santo Domingo. I drove to the car park without incident and walked to the Notary Office. This was now my third attempt to obtain a document for my daughters. The first time they took copies of their ID cards. The second time they said they needed their birth certificates (plainly ridiculous as the ID cards are produced from the birth certificates). This time they wanted a certificate I do not owe the country money. In the end I managed to obtain the document I needed.
Next job was doing a test about dengue. This is obligatory this year in the long process of renewing the annual health centre permit. I did the test but will have to go back another day to get the result as there was no one around qualified to mark a multiple choice test (!!)
The queue in the bank was out the door, but thankfully moved fairly quickly, so I thought I was still going to get home in good time for lunch, when I discovered a car had parked in the car park blocking me and the journalist next to me in. We had to sit and wait until the owner returned. There was simply no way out until then, no matter how much we protested to the car park attendent.
Now running late, I was none the less driving carefully through the busy town traffic when I heard a sickening thud next to me. I was horrified to see the yellow taxi in the lane next to me had knocked down a middle aged woman. As the traffic ground to a halt the woman stood up apparantly unharmed and stumbled off into the crowds. As I glimpsed her face and manner it was obviously she had learning difficulties. Shaken, but relieved no harm seemed to have been done I continued home, driving past the local schizophrenic man who lurched towards me wildly gesticulating to thin air.
Our farm seemed pleasantly calm after the chaotic morning, despite the gobbling turkey and clucking chickens. That´s Santo Domingo for you!