THE GOAL: To find exactly what excites and unites the people of the Dominican Republic. STRIKE ONE: Mamajuana. What sounds like a request for contraband is in fact a local drink of rum, wine, herbs and honey aged in a bottle with tree bark. Said to provide “man power.” I drink it, and then need a nap. STRIKE TWO: Soccer. I do not see a single futbol. The very mention is received like pungent noni. SOLID CONTACT: I sketch a baseball field in the sand. Boys converge to point out their positions. This, and the words “New York Yankees,” destroy the language barrier.** INVISIBLE BEACH:** Walking under coconut palms at Cabo Francis near Cabrera, I ask Golden Dolphin Villa owner Mike Siemer if he has ever seen an American on this beach. “I’ve never seen another person on it.” WORST NAME: A lake called Dudu (“doo-doo”) is down the hill from the Golden Dolphin. Surprise: Lake Dudu is ice-blue water and jungle vines inside a giant rock bowl. A 30-minute swim and tread revives the baseball muscles. Not too crappy.