Dominican Republic Part Two

The Caribe Express took us all the way to Sanchez on the peninsula of Samana. Here we disembarked and Anders was immediately swarmed by a bunch of guys on motorcycles. These are the notorious motoconchos. They seem to exist solely to try to charge tourists extroritonate amounts of money for very short journeys. After trying to grab our bags and harry us onto the bikes, they eventually settled for the blackmail tactic. Telling us the bus station was 2km away and that the last gua gua was about to leave. They would not give us directions and insisted we must ride with them. It was very difficult to shake them off and they persisted in dogging us for the half of the walk. The taxi drivers would also attempt to rip us off with their ridiculous demands en route. We were even prevented from asking locals for directions, because they refused to buck the will of the motoconcho mafia. Eventually we got far enough clear of them to ask for directions from some locals and found our way to the gua guas. We were bundled into a van and taken to a truck. The three of us clambered into the back and with the rest of the passengers were driven through 14km of winding scenic roads to the town of Las Terrenas. This town was buzzing with tourists of some hue and quad bikes that plied the local roads. There seemd to be a lot of good looking women in the local bars and we got ourselves a cheapish hotel near to the centre of town. It didn't look like much but we were paying $24 a night between 3 of us. I found out I was going to need to register my old passport as found, but this did not occur in a timely fashion and the next day we decided to head for the waterfalls.

The three of us managed to grab the back of another truck and head along to the El Limon waterfalls in the morning. At the town of El Limon we were ambushed by motoconcho guys again and one local French owner told us to tell them to fuck off and pointed us in the direction of the trail to the waterfalls. Most people hire horses to take on this trail. We were convinced we could do it by foot. At the entrance we were charged a nominal fee and Filip believed this was fraudulent but we paid it none the less. The horse guys insisted we needed a horse (and with hindsight they may have been right but we could have come in easily by foot from the other entrance we would later exit by. The trail was deeply muddy, slippery and sticky. We also had to ford 3 streams that accounted for one of the pairs of Ander's shoes. My feet were beaten up a bit and we all slip slided our way through the trail. Its not easy going and at one point I slipped, grabbed a fence poll and snapped it. One of the horse guys said I would have to pay, but I concluded that was ludicrous given it was just a wooden stake. Most everyone else had taken horses, but we did pass two other walkers on the trail. Once we arrived at the waterfall (after a reasonable treck) we were confronted with a 50 odd metre drop and a rather dirty looking drop pool. Still Anders had stacked it in the mud and needed to wash off. Anders and I entered the pool first and he found a route behind the waterfall which was cool, before we decided to swim through it and tag in Filip. The other two swam, while I fucked up taking a photo with the camera. Filip is a particularly good photographer with a camera far too high tech for someone who has not even used a disposable in five years. Afterwards we got chatting with a French girl and with my crappy Spanish we had a laugh and I discovered that most of the French people on this coast had mafia links. The town was crawling with French and Italian people. Its probably why we had such sensational food while we were in Las Terrenas. Really good food. Including the burgers and pizzas (both of which were far above the quality usually associated with such fare). When we got back to town I tried to draw some money on my credit card and realised that it too had been frozen. Shit. I had no money. No passport, one card on its way to Canada and the other two frozen. Fucking banks and their security checks. I would need to borrow off the two guys until the next morning when I could use Filip's skype to unblock both of the cards. On our way to the internet cafe we bumped into the three guys (Jose, Joe and Mathias) from new year and joined them for drinks later on. Options for diving and Las Haitises were opening up, while in the morning they were off on a wahlewatching trip and to a deserted island. We also bumped into the Yankee girls from new year. The girl studying in Portland was even planning on being in Buenos Aires when I was and I may end up having a study buddy for the course. Fortuitous luck. Mathias even had a spare apartment I could use in Santo Domingo if i needed to stay there for a prolonged period of time. There was a prostitute in a cowboy hat dancing at the bar, whom the guys took a liking too (seemingly a large proportion of the women here and in Cabarete are prostitutes and it must really suck for the local women who just want to come out and dance. They will in a lot of cases be ignored or propositioned because people would perceive them to be prostitutes). Joe even told me of a story where a Spanish guy on their scheme had met a girl and been taken to meet her grandparents. Once they got back to town they were about to have sex when she whispered in his ear "4,000 pesos". Myself and the two Swedish guys headed over to the bars on the waterfront (which the quad bike driver had shown us that night) and went dancing. Filip headed home early because of the rain. Anders got dancing with a local girl and managed to stop the place dead with his dance moves. For a gringo he can really move. Then she asked him if he wanted to come home with her and he realised she was also a prostitute. The girl then asked me if I wanted to by her a drink and if she could come home with me. Its the second time in my life I have been propositioned to buy someone a drink for no discernable reason. Anders and I then went to a techno club with strobe lighting that was cool. He was dancing with another French girl and I realised I had aged suddenly into the glorious age of 27. We wandered back in the rain as I realised at the end of the day your another day older, to steal from a London musical.

I woke on the sunday to realise it was my birthday and I had now been travelling for 5 months. Ollie was at his halfway point, I was rapidly approaching my one third marker. We went and sorted out my cards with skype. The nationwide guy gave me some bollocks about withdrawing too much money in one day (his maths did not add up) and eventually concluded I should have let them know I was travelling (I had done). I had had to draw a lot of money to pay for the new passport which had alarmed them. I was also instructed to keep the receipt to proove I had paid, but thats another story. In the night our clothes we had left outside were battered with rain, but the ceiling was also cracked and we were surrounded by little puddles and dripping water all around us. This necessitated a room change. The incessant rain and the fact we did not know what hotel we were in (we had told the guys the night before we were staying in their hotel) meant we missed the island trip and I was suspicious of our neighbour. He appeared to be an old French man with a very young girl companion. Filip figured he was her guardian, I figured he was Roman Polanski mark II. We spent the day hanging on the beach (unusual for me) and then went and played some mini golf. This was the first time I'd played since the States (following my resurrection of pool in Puerto Rico). The course was suitably tough, including one hole where you had to drive it across about 50 yards of grass with some metal polls in front. Anders had opened up a lead and I was miles behind. Then on that long hole I managed to smash my club in half and break it completely into two pieces. Shit. How much was that going to cost. We now had two clubs. Ironically my game improved. By the end of hole 14 we were all on level scores. By hole 18 Filip was one shot up on me and I one shot up on Anders. We all had one hole in one for tie breakers. Filip went first and shot three. I shot two making it a tie. Anders shot two and was out. Only not. I'd added up the scores wrong and it was a three way tie. Sudden death shootout. I holed my shot (woohoo). Anders was up next. He holed it. I turned to mark it down. And groans. It had hit the back and ricocheted back out, like a penalty hitting the crossbar. Agonisingly close. Filip up next. He missed. A squeaker of an end and a really close good game of golf. Now for the broken club. The security guard had been menacingly watching us closely with his shotgun but had wandered off. I returned sheepishly to the hut to pay. The man was not in. We did a drop and run, buggering off to go and eat a birthday meal at the waterfront. The meal was good and they did not charge us for some of it (I had managed to avoid paying the golf and for the beach chairs. My luck was in sortof). Anders and Filip gave me a rousing Swedish birthday song, we went out for some drinks and then hit the sack with Haitises in the morning.

The three of us were up early and headed to Sanchez by combi to get ahead of the Taiwanese embassy and the three guys. They had transport, but could not fit us in. We arrived at the boat dock and were accosted by tour guides offering us ridiculous prices of 1,500 pesos each. Not sure how we could communicate we left Anders at the dock (he would end up negotiating a price with an amiable captain, who was married to his American sugar mummy and used her money to woe Dominican women when she was at home in the States) and went in search of a phone. Filip did one better and spotted the cars. I chased down the hill and got hold of them, informing them we needed to drive to the other port. The Taiwanese guy had driven a shrewd deal for boat the day before and figured with 16 of us he had a lot of room to bargain. I went back down to fetch Anders. The boat captain had offered 3,000 pesos for 3. I told him we were 16 now and he almost choked on his chicken. He offered us 10,000 for everyone. After playing good cop, while Anders was ultra good cop, we convinced him the Taiwanese guy was ultra shrewd and would only give him one shot for his best price. He dropped to 9,000. I grabbed the head of the Taiwanese expedition and informed him of the deal and I figured he could get 8,000. He went in for 6,500 but settled for 8,000 and some drinks. The 16 of us eventually boarded the boat and they took us across the choppy waters to Nacional Park Los Haitises. We were taken into some caves that were very pretty, with some crappy cave paintings (not as good as New Mexico) and the tour guide tried to bullshit us as to how caves were formed. To me this was more entertaining than getting an actual explanation. We were then taken through some mangrove swamps, for a coastal tour, to a fishermans village, to a deserted beach for some cuba libres and finally to a cool underground cave river. It was a pleasant day trip even if my arse hurt a lot when we eventually got off the boat. The captain had entertained us a lot with his stories and we had all caught up with each other and some really good conversations. Once we got back we went to the pizza place and Anders and I had a good chat over some beers on the porch. We had a conversation on many things and found out we come from similar backgrounds and I got to know him a lot better. Though he did say I was someone who listened through relating my own stories, which is a true observation and yet he is only the second person to point that out. Anders decided that he was going to skip the expedition to Las Galeras and the diving the next day and so it would be just Filip and I.

Filip and I got up very early (too early and not early enough as we just missed a gua gua and had to wait for one hour. We had decided to go all the way across the peninsula and back in one day. We took guaguas to Samana, which is a pretty little port town, with a bustling market and three bridges linking three islands just offshore. From there we picked up a guagua to the one horse town that is Las Galeras. If you go there bear in mind they have no cash machines and luckily I had enough cash on me to lend Filip 3,000 pesos for the scuba diving. We debated a lot of things on the way up, while Filip took shots of locals. Once in Galeras we found the diving would be ot exactly what Filip wanted to do and not for a cheap price either. I opted against snorkeling and would not have been able to afford it anyway with no option for a cash machine. Filip discussed a scheme of his for private government advice and I believe it could work, but I don't think he has as much faith in his own idea in and of itself. While Filip dived (a two dive trip, the first apparently basic, the second apparently really great weaving through the coral) with some Russians, I wandered through the private beaches of the exlcusive hotels. Lots of lazy package tourists and one phenomenal French girl. It really is quite pretty along the coast and away from the dustbowl town. Lots of sand and green plants and wild horses. I eventually met Filip again and we headed back. We debated a lot again and I came to believe we shared a lot of similar philosophies. I certainly think we travel in a similar way or that we look for similar things from our trips. Although I did learn the benefit of defining a concept that you debate. We debated for half an hour on the merits of giving advice, sometimes heatedly, only to realise we define giving advice differently and that if you take that variance into account we actually agreed with each other. Rather amusing and a good life lesson. When we got to Samana there were only guaguas as far as Limon so we took them. Getting to Limon we were informed there were no more guaguas and we should take a motoconcho. Fuck them I can walk 14km. Although one guy was incredulous as Filip jumped onto hsi motorbike and rode it around a few corners down the road. Once he was restored to the pavement we continued walking and tried to flag down vehicles. Eventually we thumbed down a truck driver to take us for 200 pesos after Filip had said he was Polish. His theory is you should say you are from poorer countries and then you get cheaper deals. Seems to work. Get all your internet done as well before you head to Galeras. The average is 40 pesos an hour here in the Dominican Republic, but this place charged 3 pesos a minute. We arrived back and crashed ready for the long haul in the morning.

We had decided we could go all the way to Cabarete by gua gua and this would necessitate 4 of the little vans. In the end we only saved a fraction of the cost but it was fun negotiating. We paid 50 pesos each to Sanchez (standard), 60 pesos to Nagua (probably 10 too much), 100 I think to Rio San Juan (probably 60-80) and 80 to Cabarete (Filip reckons we could have got 50 or 60). Overall we paid 290 pesos each. We were quoted 440-500. So you can really haggle down. We did get some cracking answers to our questions as well. "How much does it cost?" "No problem". Well it could be a problem, but you need an answer and definite price before you step into the vehicle. Another one of "how much does it cost?" "Yes, yes, get in". Buggers will try to take you for some extra cash. Filip reckons you need to see them almost crying before you have got a good price, but Anders was loving the haggling, if not the guaguas. I had Filip say how much he preferred to ride on the backs of trucks only minuted before Anders told me how much he preferred the vans. Anyway we arrived in Cabarete with time to spare and checked into our Hotel Kaoba for 5 nights (it would become 6 as we had a spare one to kill). This would be our home until those two guys ended up shooting off back to Florida (Both were working as research assistants as part of their masters programs back home).