It seemed like a good idea at the time planned it, though later, as the date approached, it felt a bit hard and awkward to explain. As a consequence, I told nearly no one I was going to the Dominican Republic, until, suddenly, I was there. One minute my friends are seeing mundane posts about Orange County traffic, and suddenly it’s pictures of tropical beaches.
I’ve always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, and it makes one do things like this. I had moved to rural Australia three years prior, and while the twilight sun slanting through the gum forests is really something else, the dating scene proved entirely nonexistant. So the ill-fated idea was to set tinder to different locations literally anywhere on the planet in the logic that “the one” could be anywhere. I found out Icelanders have the most interesting names, made a friend in Namibia, and with just my luck cautious initial exchanges with a beautiful Venezuelan doctor grew over the course of months to daily conversation and strong mutual interest. Venezuela! With the exception of maybe North Korea possibly the most politically problematic place for an American to travel to; and, conversely, because of the imploding Venezuelan economy it’s very hard for them to get a visa to a developed country either.
Enter Dominican Republic. We planned to meet for just four days because, despite talking for months, you never know how things will go in person and one doesn’t want to be trapped in a train-wreck week-long date. I should also mention that she and I don’t have a language in common other than a rudimentary far-from-fluent understanding of each other’s (this situation proudly made possible by Google Translate!). This could all go terribly.
Day 1: Arrived a bit bedraggled after an 11 hour trip from Los Angeles (with two hour layover in Panama City) at the small yet grandly named Las Américas International Airport in the Dominican Republic, where the passport control line coiled around and around the hall and out the corridor and took at least an hour. Finally I emerged to be joyfully pounced upon by a beautiful senorita exclaiming in Spanish. Fear #1 of meeting someone from online dismissed: with implausibly large chocolate eyes and a glowing smile, she’s even prettier than the pictures. Problem #2: I can’t understand the stream of things she’s telling me. First couple challenge: getting a taxi. I hadn’t been able to get ahold of the hotel to arrange their shuttle. Cristina negotiated with the local taxi drivers. We successfully communicated between eachother, we would take the taxi she negotiated. High five. We would learn on the return four days later that the hotel shuttle cost more for a more beat-up vehicle.
The Dominican Republic is the eastern half of the island of Hispaniola — the western half is Haiti. In traveling to the DR one has options. Punta Cana at the far eastern tip has many beautiful beaches and sites around it, while the capital, Santo Domingo, is full of classic colonial architecture and historical sites. We decided to split the difference and book a hotel midway up the coast between the capital and the eastern end, a place called Juan Dolio. We had booked a room at the weirdly named but well reviewed “Emotions by Hidalgo” resort.
The hotel favored a modernist style, bold blocky square tables and neon signs, but was very well appointed. Flamingos stood serenely in an artificial pond by the hotel restaurant, crossed by an faux-rustic bridge. Tourists lounged around the central pool drinking the inclusive tropical drinks. Our room featured not one faulty light, dripping faucet, noisy air-con or other such sub-par feature one fears when traveling to obscure places in the Caribbean. My one complaint would be that when we got into what by all appearances looked to be a hot tub it was completely unheated and I couldn’t discern a means to turn it on, as far as I can tell the resort does not have a hot tub.
The hotel features different entertainment features every day of the week and we happened to stumble upon the official beach party when we went down to the beach. The hotel had the good fortune of being on a piece of beachfront from which the coast curves a bit north to the west, just enough to get a glorious pink-and-gold sunset among billowing clouds just seaward of the endless palm treed beaches. The official program involved silly games, a konga line, and a lot of dancing. I took note that the other tourists were from all around the world but I never once encountered another American tourist in the DR. This still being just a few hours in to our “first date,” I was still very anxious my terrible dancing would be the death knell heralding three days of awkwardness, but when the official party broke up and we were left alone on the beach, I found myself looking into her luminous eyes beside a crackling bonfire, the waves gently crashing beside us and mars burning brightly among endless stars high above, and I knew it was going to be alright.
Day 2: Oily hotel staff tried to rope us into the classic time-share presentation trap but we escaped, and were then able to book the activities we wanted. Their guy had lots of water-sports on offer but we had already decided we wanted to go to old town Santo Domingo this day and Isla Soana the next, so we booked those activities.
It was about an hour drive west along the coast to Santo Domingo. On the outskirts of town one passes a massive stylized lighthouse that is the memorial erected to commemorate the 500th anniversary of Columbus’ arrival. Santo Domingo is the oldest European-settled town in the Americas, founded by Christopher Columbus’ brother Bart in 1496. We didn’t stop at the monument, even though it’s apparently partially a museum, but proceeded directly to the Zona Colonia — old town, and got out of the car beside a statue of Columbus with a lithe native woman inexplicably reaching up to him on his pedestal. Old town was full of grand old spanish colonial architecture and quietly regal shop fronts with dignified ivy and balconies fit for melodrama. We engaged the services of a certificated tourguide who approached us and he showed us around old town. The tour ended at a shop (of course) that sold various Dominican specialties. There’s a turquoise colored stone called larimar, which is only found in Dominican Republic. It makes pretty jewelry, especially when paired with the amber that is also in a strange abundance on the island. I was a bit taken by surprise when the tourguide casually offered me “mamajuana,” but it turned out to be not what you are thinking but a local liquor made from rum, red wine, and honey, soaked in a bottle with bark and herbs. The native Taino people had made a tea from the bark and honey, and European colonists had tasted it and thought to themselves, “yes, this, but with alcohol” and mamajuana was born. I dutifully sipped it but its hard to enjoy something with a salesperson grinning at you so indulgently and it wasn’t until I bought a bottle at the outbound duty free and tried it at home days later that I realized I really kind of liked it. Its a bit reminiscent of jagermeister but smoother actually. Unlike jagermeister, it doesn’t need to be at near 0 degrees to be palatable.
After the city, we visited the three linked cenotes of Tres Ojos on the outskirts of town. One can descend deep into the beautiful holes in the ground and then take a boat through the cave linking two of them, as drips plink plink from the rocky ceiling and echoes fly across the still dark waters. The third cenote is only accessible from the point you enter just above water level from this cave and is beautiful, the crystal clear water full of fish and lush greenery overhanging from the top high above.
Day 3: The most highly reviewed activity to do in the DR is an excursion to Isla Soana. We boarded a large catamaran with about thirty other tourists, the small crew passing out rum-and-cokes before the anchor was even lifted. About four similar catamarans also loaded up and our small fleet was off! The sails were hoisted, Dominican and latin music blasting and the rum flowing. The sun was warm and bright, the salt spray refreshing, people danced on deck. At Isla Soana we found the absolutely classic tropical island paradise — thickly forested with palms, endless white sand beaches, other than the rustic beach cabanas no sign of mundane human infrastructure. We spent the day frolicking in the idyllic glassy waters. By the time we returned there was no doubt this is the must-do of any trip to the Dominican Republic.
Day 4: On the morning of the 4th day we sadly had to go to the airport to depart, my only regret being having only booked four days! Cristina and I will definitely plan our next trip for longer.
Epilogue: Rather by coincidence today is exactly one year after the last day of that trip. Cristina and I are working on our happily ever after as much as visas will allow, and planning to go to Cancun in two weeks!
Epilogue epilogue: the planned trip to Cancun turned into quite the fiasco! See the story here!