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The Blue Origin spaceflight agency has successfully launched and landed its reusable New Shepard rocket three times now, an impressive record on its own. But if the goal is consumer space flights, they need to know how to prepare for and deal with situations where things don’t go perfectly. That’s why their next flight will see the empty crew capsule … Continue reading

I’ve been hanging out in the cities that Spain built for a long time.

Over the past 35 years, I’ve gotten to know old towns from Granada and Leon, Nicaragua and Cuenca, Ecuador, to Old San Juan, Puerto Rico, Antigua, Guatemala, and Casco Viejo, Panama.

Established in 1496, Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic predates them all.

It’s the oldest European city in the Americas and the capital of Spain’s first colony in this part of the world.

Founded by Christopher Columbus’ brother Bartholomew, colonial Santo Domingo might best be described as dignified. It feels more genteel than the cities built in other of Spain’s colonies in the decades to follow.

The structures at the heart of this old town are classic Spanish colonial but simpler, statelier and somehow more refined than their counterparts across the region.

Calle Las Damas, the first street of the original city and therefore the oldest street in all the Americas, is lined with 16th-century pale stone facades and runs into Plaza de España, the expansive open square at the harbor.

The highlight here is the colonial city’s first palace, the private home of the first governor of the colony, Diego Columbus, Christopher’s son. It’s an exceptional example of classic Spanish-colonial architecture.

Diego’s vice-regal residence marks one edge of the Plaza de España, at the water. At the square’s other edge, alongside the old town, is a row of restaurants where you can dine alfresco and watch modern-day activity in this harbor that helped build the Americas.

In colonial Santo Domingo, Bartholomew and Diego created an administrative hub for the activities their sponsoring country imagined for the New World they envisioned. It was from this base that the Spanish managed their conquests of Mexico, Puerto Rico, Cuba, Guatemala, Peru, Florida, Colombia and Jamaica.

In colonial Santo Domingo, the Columbuses built a customs house, a hospital, a cathedral, a university, a library… everything required to launch a new Spain.

During its golden age, this city’s colonial structures stood as testament to the riches flowing through their benefactors’ coffers.

Today, Santo Domingo, capital of the country with the fastest-growing economy in Latin America, is chasing a new prosperity. The streets are lively, the harbor busy.

Most of the world knows the Dominican Republic for its white-sand beaches. The expanding tourist traffic to this island nation’s many coastal resorts is a key driver of the economic growth the country is enjoying.

And I appreciate a beautiful beach as much as the next girl.

But it’s Santo Domingo, now that I’m getting to know it better, that is capturing my imagination.

My husband and I have been scouting structures for sale in this city’s colonial heart, trying to get a handle on pricing to compare with costs for buying today in other, better-known colonial cities.

Original Feature: Santo Domingo: Dominican Republic’s Colonial Capital

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Earlier on Huff/Post50:

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“Mission: Impossible” turns 20 years old this month. Besides launching a series that continues to have box-office success, the movie featured a sort of strange way to present intensity for a blockbuster: squeezing actors very, very close to each other and the camera. 

When Henry Czerny took on the role of Eugene Kittridge, the Impossible Missions Force Director, the actor had only appeared in one other big-budget movie, “Clear and Present Danger,” starring Harrison Ford. With the direction of Brian De Palma (of “Scarface” and “Carrie” fame), Czerny had a much different experience his second time around on a major production.

“I’d never acted with a camera that’s basically hooked under my chin,” Czerny told The Huffington Post in a conversation for the 20-year anniversary. “I didn’t know what to do with it, but Brian was at the monitors and if he didn’t get what he wanted I’m sure he would have told me.”

The most extreme close-up Czerny experienced was when his character accused Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt of being a mole. The two sat in a restaurant surrounded by aquariums. Czerny wasn’t sure, but he thinks De Palma’s desire to feature those trapped fish led to the memorable camera angles. “He didn’t want the [viewers] to forget about the fish tank,” said Czerny. “So by putting the camera below, you have the character in close-up and the fish tank in the background hovering if you will.”

So, did Czerny worry about how he’d look with a camera so close to his face?

Czerny laughed in response to the question. He didn’t even know the camera would be there. 

“If they’d told me, I would have paid more attention to those nose hairs. Maybe the hair department or the makeup department knew what was going to go on and then did that for me. [But] I had no idea.”

How do you think the hair and makeup departments did?

Czerny also recalled a scene when De Palma told him to get almost impossibly close to another actor.

After Hunt breaks into the CIA, Czerny’s character is telling an intelligence co-worker (played by Dale Dye) that they should send the CIA employee responsible for the mishap to Alaska.

De Palma apparently told the actors, “I need you a little closer,” so they shot again. Then, De Palma said something like, “No, no, closer! Like you’re almost kissing!”

“I just remember thinking, ‘I hope I brushed my teeth thoroughly,'” Czerny laughed. 

Although Czerny thought it was sometimes “weird” to work within this method, he enjoyed being a part of what’s now considered De Palma’s signature style. “He’ll do a long tracking shot and then jump in for close-ups. It doesn’t allow you to leave the scene.” 

In addition to starring in the movie, Cruise also began his career as a producer with “Mission: Impossible.” Czerny recalled how Cruise would regularly take out members from the cast as a tension releaser. “He would host an evening in Prague or London at some cool establishment.”

In particular, Czerny once joined Cruise and Nicole Kidman, his wife at the time, to play show tunes with a few ofter members from the crew.

They all went out to dinner at a Prague restaurant, where they commandeered the piano.

“I found myself sitting on a piano bench singing show tunes with Nicole,” said Czerny. “That was not something you normally get to do.”

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Housing costs are out of whack with incomes across the country, making the task of finding an affordable place to live a real struggle, even for many full-time workers.

A report titled “Out of Reach,” out this week from the National Low Income Housing Coalition, highlights the mismatch between wages and housing costs at the state, county and metro levels. The results are consistently dire: in no locality in the country can people who earn the federal minimum wage afford the typical two-bedroom apartment.

The NLIHC determined how much a person working full-time would need to make to comfortably afford fair market rent. They call that the housing wage, or the hourly wage needed so only 30 percent of a person’s income goes toward rent. Households spending more are considered “cost-burdened” — and the extra expense means they cut spending on food, health care and retirement savings.

Nationwide, the housing wage for a two-bedroom apartment is $20.30 hourly (or $42,240 annually). That means someone earning the federal minimum wage of $7.25 would have to work 112 hours a week to afford the typical rent.

“If this worker slept for eight hours per night, he or she would have no remaining time during the week for anything other than working and sleeping,” the report notes.

Here’s how much a worker would need to earn to afford rent on a two-bedroom apartment in each state:

The “Out of Reach” report determined rent prices in each location using U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development estimates of the fair market rent (including utilities) in each area for rental units. HUD uses two-bedroom units for its standard estimates because they are most common and most reliable to survey, the report states.   

The housing wage required to afford a two-bedroom rental is over $30 an hour in the most expensive metro areas. Half of the top ten are in California, where a growing housing crisis has contributed to skyrocketing rents. 

The San Francisco metro area’s extreme housing costs seem slightly more reasonable, considering typical renters there make far more than the national average. 

But in neighboring Oakland, there’s a much wider gap. To afford the fair market rate of $2,100 for a two-bedroom apartment, a person would need to make over $84,000 per year, more than double the actual income of the average Oakland renter. And that still might not be enough — professionals like teachers and firefighters are being priced out of the city, and officials have considered ways to help fund more housing for families making around $100,000. 

Renting has increased dramatically in the last decade, with nine million more new renter households today than in 2005. But supply, as well as government spending on affordable housing, hasn’t kept up, resulting in rising rents and extra strain for low-income families. 

“Between 2003 and 2013, the number of low cost units renting for less than $400 increased by 10 percent, but the number of renter households in need of these units increased by 40 percent,” the report states. The authors say the new data underscores the need to both raise the minimum wage and increase federal funding for affordable housing.  

Housing is a basic need the government should invest in, HUD Secretary Julián Castro wrote in an introduction to the NLIHC report.

“Our nation can’t fulfill any of our major goals — whether it’s tackling inequality, improving healthcare, keeping neighborhoods safe, or making sure every child gets a good education — unless we also focus on housing,” Castro said.

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At 61, I was unemployed. Sooner or later, my severance package would stop arriving in my checking account, and although I’ve never worried much about money, I began thinking of ways to cut back, something I’ve never been known for. I tried not to surrender to my bent for the dramatic, but once in a while — usually awake in the middle of the night — I’d see a vision of me in the future, popping open a little can of gourmet cat food, spreading it on some crackers, and calling it a day.

Then I had an idea. Traditionally (for me) this can be a terrifying way of opening a paragraph. I tried out my idea on my neighbor, who kindly wondered why he’d seen me home so much. I told him I’d lost my job and had been applying for new ones, but nothing was happening. Of course I didn’t say it exactly that way. I think I used words like “transitioning” and “turning point.” The phrase “letting you go,” my actual launching pad, was still coming to me regularly in my dreams, the ones where I’d show up at my office and everyone there would have to remind me that they’d already “let me go,” and — ashamed (and, yes, naked of course) — I’d slump back to my car and drive home.

I’d just met this neighbor, so he was a natural tabula rasa candidate. “I’ve decided I’m going to write,” I said, listening to how self-important that sentence sounded wafting through the air.

“Really?” he said. “I didn’t know you were a writer.”

If he meant had I ever made a comfortable living as a writer — or even an uncomfortable one — the answer was “no.” If he meant had anyone ever heard of me, nope. I didn’t mention that I’d won third place in my 6th grade short story contest back on Long Island, but it was one of the consequential events I was building my next career on. It’s amazing how reality hardly ever has anything to do with being a writer.

I bought some office supplies I thought writers needed. A stapler. A pencil sharpener, even though I barely ever wrote with a pencil. I was good on Post-It Notes. I kept writing. Nothing much. Nothing good. But I kept writing. And waited for a sign.

My next official act of reinvention was to move the desk in my study to the window. Before, I’d always thought I’d find it distracting, but I’d become such an early riser, I figured I might enjoy seeing the sun come up. Or that watching people in the little park below would give me some material once I’d stopped thinking about my big win in the short story contest in 6th grade.

The park is taken over with dog owners once the sun arrives. By about 6:45, the grounds resemble a golden retriever convention. People in their Under Armour gear talk and nod and smile as the dogs sniff at each other. (This is an unscientific sample, but I’ve learned 90 percent of the golden retrievers in America are named Bailey.) Mothers, nannies and toddlers take up the next shift. At dusk, from the same window, I see parents and their children getting in a few minutes on the playground equipment before dinner.

Sometimes when nothing is coming to me, I walk out my back door and sit at the playground. I jot down what I hear or see in the notebook I carry everywhere. One day a boy, about 10, sat down next to me on the bench. His dad was off to the side, watching expectantly. I’d seen him nod in my direction and say quietly to his son, “Go ahead.” The boy cleared his throat a little and held out a stack of copy paper, mercilessly stapled down one side. The cover read “ROBOTS,” in bold lettering, with an ambitious illustration.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m a writer. I have this book for sale. It costs $1 if you want to buy it. But just to warn you, it might be scary in some parts for your kids.” I loved that he didn’t have a clue that my kids are now in their 30s. I loved his confidence, even when his voice faltered a little.

I took the book in my hands and thumbed through. I complimented him on his wording and his drawing. I said, “Stay right here,” and I went back to my house and got a dollar. He showed me where the scary parts were so I’d be prepared.

“Is it hard to be a writer?” I asked.

“Not one bit,” he said. And he took off for the swings.

Earlier on Huff/Post50:

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