The latest in a long tradition of scribes are waiting to write that letter request. Noon in the Portales de Santo Domingo, sitting at his typewriter, a man with a graying mustache attends to the woman while he writes the dictation. Sometimes he stops and asks a question. He rereads. He is one of the few scribes who will equally draft a letter to the extended family or a letter to a loved one or an application to any official body.

There is an ebb and flow of people between the tables of the scribes and old wooden houses, each with its own name: El Bolo Elegante, Hilda, La Económica, Carmelo; all offering a myriad of cards for all occasions, wedding invitations, 15th birthday celebrations, baptisms and communions. The citizen has an appointment in Santo Domingo on every special occasion in life.

The bustle of the portals contrasts with the stillness of the great square, presided over by the , and flanked by the former Inquisition Palace and the . In one corner there is a line to buy quesadillas, in another parishioners kill hunger with corn. Some things do not change.