When the Democrats Abroad tallies were published, the Dominican Republic result stood out like a sore thumb. While Obama carried the Americas region, Clinton won the Dominican Republic with an astounding 90% of the vote. Because I live in Latin America and was unaware of any factors that could account for this unusual result, I started asking around. A couple of explanations came back. One was that a local superdelegate is a big Clinton fan (and may even expect a State Department position in Clinton's administration if she is elected). The other was that the Clintons spend a lot of time in the Dominican Republic and recently purchased beachfront property there in a very exclusive community, with a value upwards of $1,000,000. Join me across the jump as we look at some lovely Dominican beaches and explore what it takes to turn one village in a developing country into an idyllic Hillary hideaway.

There's no help for it. Tomorrow I vote (in the first Democrats Abroad online primary). My ballot and PIN numbers arrived via e-mail this morning. After months of sitting on the fence I must choose a candidate and leap into the primary fray. I have read candidate diaries, and poll diaries, and endorsement diaries, occasionally feeling older than God, because I was a passionate Dean supporter four years ago, and knew all about the heartbreak of settling on a candidate too early. As it turns out, the seeds of my decision were sown months ago (on Wednesday, September 26, to be exact), during the MSNBC-hosted Democratic debate, when I was startled by one of the answers and had to ask, "Is our candidates learning?"

It never fails. I watch one of Bush's press conferences and then I listen to media analysis and wonder whether the analyst and I were watching the same show. It's a terrible feeling of being divorced from reality and always makes me doubt my own sanity. Today, I listened to Bob Schieffer, from CBS, who I'm sure is a lovely man, tell all his viewers why the U.S. relationship with Russia was on such fragile footing at the moment. He explained to us that Bush had been very, very cautious when speaking about Russia in the conference, so as not to disrupt that fragile balance. I sat there with my mouth open, wondering if I had not just heard Bush say we need to reprogram the Russian DNA.

Having an errand to run downtown this morning, I decided to swing by the National Library in Guatemala City and look up the details of Guatemala's reaction to Rigoberta Menchú's Nobel Peace Prize. Menchú's prize was awarded in 1992, on the 500th anniversary of Europe's first enounter with this hemisphere and its people. She returned to Guatemala just a week before the prize was awarded, to participate in the 500th anniversary commemorations. Within a few days of her arrival, she had to request diplomatic protection from the U.S. Embassy, due to threats against her and those surrounding her. She left Guatemala a few short days after the prize was announced and went to Mexico.

Oddly, Erik Prince has only made one political contribution for this election cycle. Guess who got the money and when? (No surprises for anyone watching the congressional Blackwater hearing today.)

Two Guatemalan police officers are in custody and two more are sought for the abduction and murder of five youths in Guatemala City last Friday. The case raises new concerns about the National Police and its links to organized crime in the country.

An important question to which Americans deserve an immediate investigation and answer is, "Has Senator Craig ever been black-mailed by a foreign intelligence agency?" He's the perfect "honeypot" target.

This will be a brief diary. Having caught the news of Richardson's apology for supposedly calling someone a "faggot" in Spanish, I think some clarification is in order.

As promised, I present herewith a few random thoughts on Bush's Guatemala visit, from a local perspective.

El Señor Presidente George W. Bush will be arriving here in Guatemala this evening and stay through late Monday. I've had fun watching my beloved, adopted country prepare for his visit. The newspapers are at their finest, running stories laced with subtle Guatemalan irony about preparations by the Secret Service, the hurried staffing of a village clinic by U.S. military personnel for Bush's photo-op tour, and prominently featuring an unusually large number of news articles about the deportation of Guatemalans from the United States. The public seems to be generally interested in the visit, at least as far as trying to figure out what thouroughfares will be closed on Monday and whether it will be possible to get to work, but let's face it, it's hardly a visit by the Pope. We pull out all the stops for that.

I tried this diary last night, but deleted it right away because YouTube embedding wasn't working yet. Here goes a second try.

Here they are, as quickly as I could compile them: the official 2007 SOTU ovation statistics. Congressmen, who can apparently not restrain themselves from jumping like jack-in-the-boxes out of their chairs and applauding mindlessly, turned in another exemplary performance this year, despite my earlier plea for them to give it a rest.

During the past six years, Americans living outside the United States have been shamed by our country's conduct more times than most of us would care to count. What follows is admittedly a personal pet peeve, but, because it is a recurring source of humiliation, I have decided to address it in a diary to members of Congress.

My sister sent me a song last week that she wrote and recorded. It's a wonderfully simple song about war and loss, the kind of song, like an old English ballad, that you feel you've known all your life.

In one final act of cowardice, former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet requested that his body be cremated upon his death, so that his tomb would not be forever desecrated by those who despised him and everything his brutal regime represented. Anyone who had dreamed of dancing on his grave has been robbed of that hope, just as their hopes of seeing him brought to justice for human rights crimes have been stolen.

I wrote this eight or nine years ago. It's not really political.

Inevitably, the subject of Mel Gibson's new movie, Apocalypto, will arise at the dinner table. Here's a short primer on how to be Mesoamerican chic with your adjectives and nouns.

Deep inside the dark hive, news spread quickly. Agent Apis had arrived only moments before and begun a frenetic dance on Comb 2-13. Her announcement was unambiguous: Suicide bomber with a C-4 explosive belt at 12 degrees, 240 meters. The bees sprang into action. This was the moment for which they'd been trained. The fate of the nation lay in their hands . . .