We got on the road, moving quickly. I had been wearing my stocking cap non-stop since we arrived at the canyon (yes, even at night) and my forehead was starting to itch. It made me think about a description of torture I had read about in the book 'The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao' in which they strap you to a chair on the roof in the hot sun and then take a thick, wet rope and knot it around your head. As the rope dries, it tightens and you know the rest. People didn't come out of that one the same. My fleece hat is no comparison.
I first started reading about the Dominican Republic in the book 'In the Time of the Butterflies' about the Mirabal sisters who were part of the revolution against Trujillo who ruled 1930 to 1961. I started telling Jesse about it, and about the fuku (foo koo) which is a kind of curse. I was telling Jesse that Trujillo was terrible. And that if you crossed him, you'd end up with a fuku, which is a curse that stays with your family forever. Oscar Wao's family had a fuku, and the author's illustration of the depth of fuku was that Kennedy supposedly ordered the assignation of Trujillo and look at the sorrow that plagues that family. Fuku is creepy.
Anyway we trucked along for miles and miles before lunch. Which was a nice warm lunch, black bean leftovers and more on stove-warmed corn tortillas. After lunch Jesse led. We got closer and closer to familiar territory - the well-traveled corridor of the Grand Canyon. You could tell by the girl in jeans and sneakers with make-up on.
We tromped in to Indian Gardens and pitched our tent. It was busy there, and cold. We were determined to eat all our food so we wouldn't have to haul it out of the canyon in the morning.
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