In league with baseball, beaches

It is sunday morning, and the bell atop the oldest cathedral in the New World is ringing throughout Zona Colonial. But instead of kneeling in a pew and studying the Bible, I’m three blocks away in a courtyard, kneeling at a vendor’s stall, studying the edges of a Joe Torre baseball card.

The card is one of about 100 overflowing a wooden cigar box.

Tucked under Torre is a 1961 Henry Aaron MVP with paint splotches on the back. But the 1968 Torre is crisp, clean and firm, just like the one I acquired 40 years ago in a pack with four other cards and a stick of bubble gum.

“¿Cuantos pesos?” I ask the gray-bearded proprietor of a stall in the Pulga de Antiguedades, a weekly gathering of people selling crafts, antiques and thrift store fare.

“Oh, a Joe Torre. That’s 10 bucks,” he says in an unmistakable New York accent.

Turns out the card dealer is a native of Staten Island now living in Santo Domingo who travels several times a year to the U.S. to buy and sell baseball memorabilia.

It is Day 2 of a 10-day excursion to the Dominican Republic, a Caribbean nation more passionate about America’s pastime than America is. Beisbol is not just a sport here; it competes with Roman Catholicism as the national religion.

Signs of this other religion are ubiquitous. Outside the airport, a road sign announces you’re driving on Sammy Sosa Parkway heading toward the capital, Santo Domingo, the hometown of longtime Los Angeles Dodgers player and coach Manny Mota.

Although it’s late February, a few weeks after the Caribbean Series, evidence of the game’s influence is everywhere. In this city of more than 2 million -- the size of a large Southern California mega-mall -- about half the men and a good percentage of women wear baseball caps, jerseys and other branded clothing of their favorite U.S. teams; televisions in restaurants and bars are locked on Spanish-language ESPN.

Baseball fans are in for an unforgettable experience in a regular-season visit, says John Lombardo, director of player development for the Texas Rangers and a regular visitor to the Dominican Republic.

“It’s an unbelievable atmosphere,” he says. “Home-cooked food being sold, rum, loud, energetic merengue music and cheerleaders on the dugouts.”

A regular-season game has all the excitement and passion of a major league playoff game in the U.S., Lombardo says, with “loud cheering and very lively, sometimes aggressive, banter between fans.”

But the Dominican Republic has more to offer visitors than baseball.

Several five-star beachfront resorts beckon Americans, Canadians and Europeans. The American Assn. of Travel Agents ranks Punta Cana, on the Dominican Republic’s southeastern tip, its clients’ sixth most popular international tourist destination -- just above Venice, Italy, and just below Jamaica.

“It’s the beauty of the white, sandy beaches,” says Vice Minister for Tourism Magaly Toribio. She also cites the proximity to U.S. cities, high-quality hotels and aggressive marketing efforts by the private and public sectors that attract visitors to the resorts, which contributed substantially to the Dominican Republic’s $4 billion in tourism revenue in 2007.

For those who love windsurfing, snorkeling and kite boarding, or just playing in warm, turquoise water, Punta Cana as well as Puerto Plata in the north are unmatched and easy to get to with their own international airports.

The resort approach enables travelers to bypass the crowded capital as well as the rugged interior mountains. Regrettably, those who go that route miss out on some of this nation’s most compelling historic and cultural offerings.

An hour after politely refusing to negotiate for the overpriced Joe Torre baseball card, I am climbing up a dark, wide staircase to the second floor of the Boutique de Fumador, one of the many cigar shops in Santo Domingo. The creak of ancient wood resounds under my feet as I climb to the shop’s cedar aging room.

Even before Mayra Pouerie, the assistant to the shop’s manager, beckons me inside, the aroma of aging tobacco stops me in my tracks. Catching my breath, I peek beyond the doorway and glimpse a few of the thousands of cigars packed tightly in a room the size of my home’s master bath. The experience is overwhelming -- and a bit tempting -- even for someone like me who has never smoked a cigar.

Outside, the fresh air is less enticing than a $6 stogie, but my head is clearer. After a 15-minute walk through Zona Colonial, I arrive at the home of Christopher Columbus’ son, Diego. The Alcazar de Colon, with its two stories of stunning arches flanked by palm trees, is one of the most striking buildings in Santo Domingo, and one of the nation’s finest examples of its colonial heritage.

Inside the more than 20 rooms are 800 pieces of furniture -- wardrobes and writing desks, as well as musical instruments, tapestries, paintings and other artifacts -- from the 15th to 17th centuries. One can imagine Diego hosting Spanish explorer Balboa for a 10-course banquet in the elegant dining room after commissioning Balboa governor of Antigua in 1510.

A scaled-down Rio

The grandeur and elegance of 16th century royalty are the furthest things from my mind the next day as I join 25,000 Dominicans dodging hundreds of colorful diablos (devils) parading through the streets of La Vega, a two-hour drive north of Santo Domingo. Every weekend in February, cities throughout the D.R. celebrate a pre-Easter carnaval, a scaled-down version of the over-commercialized Rio carnival in Brazil.

Wearing vibrantly colored costumes and masks with red, bulging eyes and sinister fangs, celebrants dance, prance and strut through the street. Observers on sidewalks and in bleachers chant, sing and shriek as music blares at deafening decibels through 10-foot-tall banks of speakers.

“The costumes and the masks represent demons and animals,” Toribio says. “It’s an African heritage that came with the slaves during the colonial time.”

The diablos also wield whips with round, firm bulbous tips. For observers crossing their paths or getting too close to the street, they deliver a stinging slap on the rear end. How this wild celebration symbolizes the triumph of good over evil is not readily apparent, but it is clear that Dominicans love to have a good time.

“We in the Dominican Republic are partyers,” says one attendee, who drove more than two hours to observe the festivities. “We love to celebrate. On weekends, we put our chairs in our front yards, turn on some music and dance and have fun.”

As an antidote to the carnival chaos, four friends and I head to Jarabacoa, a laid-back city of 30,000 one hour southeast of La Vega, to begin what I expect will be a manageable two-day hike up Pico Duarte. At 10,000 feet, this is the tallest mountain in the Caribbean, and guidebooks extol the stunning views of the Atlantic and the Caribbean from the summit.

That romantic image is shattered as I check into the guesthouse at Rancho Baiguate, one of two main tour operators in the region. Isabelle Rosario, the receptionist and office manager, confirms the panoramic ocean view does not exist.

“Mountains, trees, clouds, yes,” she says. “No Atlantic, no Caribbean, no water.”

Undaunted, my friends and I, along with our guide, his two assistants and nine mules, start hiking the next morning. The first 90-minute stretch is all I had anticipated: an 8-foot wide flat trail overgrown with 12-foot ferns, long spiny vines and the rushing Rio Yaque del Norte beckoning us from 15 feet away. A narrow footbridge over the river signals an abrupt transition from leisurely and lush to rocky and rugged.

Nine hours and at least 2 gallons of water later, after navigating steep, rock-strewn trails with 2,000-foot drop-offs in relentless heat, I reach a wide clearing surrounded by soaring pine trees: the campsite. Despite six weeks of rigorous preparation on treadmills and Stairmasters, every inch of my 5-foot-11 frame aches, and I crawl into a well-worn sleeping bag against the hard-packed earth craving only a long, deep sleep.

At 4 a.m., three of my companions arise for the final ascent to the summit, but I abdicate for an additional four hours of rest. Regrets? None.

During the nine-hour descent, I’m riding a mule with a penchant for hugging the narrow trail’s edge, sections of which are 1,000 feet or more above steep valleys and canyons. So, with eyes closed, I reflect on this Caribbean nation’s obsession with baseball, the thick aroma of aging cigars and its whip-wielding diablos and gain a new appreciation for that carnival reveler’s mantra: “We love to celebrate.”

--

travel@latimes.com

--

BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX

If you go

THE BEST WAY TO THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC

From LAX, American, Continental, Copa and Delta offer connecting service (change of planes) to Santo Domingo.

Restricted roundtrip fares begin at $409. Visas not required for U.S. residents; however, there is a $10 fee payable upon entry.

WHERE TO STAY

Casa Dona Elvira, 207 Padre Billini, Zona Colonial, Santo Domingo; (809) 221-7415,

www.dona-elvira.com. Renovated 16th century villa; doubles start at $90.

V Centenario Santo Domingo (InterContinental), 218 George Washington Ave., Santo Domingo; (888) 424-6835, www.ichotelsgroup.com/intercontinental. Hotel with casino. Doubles from $105.

WHERE TO EAT

Pata e Palo, 21 La Atarazana, Zona Colonial, Santo Domingo; (809) 687-3171. Excellent food in the heart of Zona Colonial in a building dating to the 1500s. Dinners from about $20.

WHERE TO PLAY

Rancho Baiguate, Jarabacoa, Dominican Republic; (809) 574-6890, www.ranchobaiguate.com. This outfit organized our hike up Pico Duarte. Cost for party of five, including one night at guesthouse, transportation, guides, mules, food and camping equipment, $1,050.

TO LEARN MORE

Embassy of the Dominican Republic, 1715 22nd St. N.W., Washington, D.C.; (202) 332-6280, www.domrep.org.

On travel.latimes.com

For more photos of the Dominican Republic, go to latimes.com/dominican.