The rain arrives suddenly and comes down hard drenching everything in seconds.
Back in the campo most of people travel by motorcycle and the really poor by foot so when the rain comes everyone must dash for cover. Motorcycles try to find a good shade tree or some other shelter while pedestrians head for the nearest porch.
If you are lucky enough to find refuge in a country house porch the lady of the house might brew up some of that strong dominican coffee, maybe even from freshly picked coffee beans grown in the back yard. Everyone then sits around on benches, plastic chairs, or the old fashioned uncomfortable chairs, sips the hot coffee and talks about how much rain we have had.
Soon the rain fades out, some young motorconcho in a hurry will dry off his motorbike and head off down the road dodgeing puddles. The others follow shortly but perhaps some lady will lag behind for a bit longer until she is sure not to get her hair wet.
After the storm passes the sun shows its face and begins to dry out the wet road. In an hour or two only a few of the deeper puddles remain as a witness to the passing storm.