Meet Me In Sanchez ... or don't

I left Santo Domingo on Sunday morning. Took a taxi to the bus terminal, and as I was standing in line for my ticket another woman just stood right in front of me. What the hell???!!! Ok, I see I need to be tougher. As soon as she finished, I went to step up to the window and someone else tried to squeeze in there, but I was not about to let it happen twice. I pushed my way up to the window where the young woman looked really upest that she had to sell me a ticket.

Onward.

I told her I wanted a ticket to Sanchez. She grimaced. I asked her how much. I forget what she said, because I was so conscious of people behind me waiting for any opportunity to squeeze in front of me and because I couldn't really hear very well through the little hole in the thick glass. So I gave her a thousand peso note just to be sure. She barked at me, "one?" and I said yes.

I asked her when we would arrive and she held up four fingers. I said, "four o'clock?" and she grumbled, "no four hours".

She pushed the ticket through the window opening and sort of threw the change through as well. I gathered up the crumpled bills and then went to look for a phone to call Playa Colibri, the hotel I was going to, so that I could tell them what time I would be in Sanchez and they could send a taxi to meet me.

There were no pay phones visible anywhere. I went up to the 2nd floor and there was a call center that was closed. A woman was sitting behind a desk next to the cafeteria, I assumed she was there to answer questions. She was playing with her cell phone. I asked her if there was a place I could make a call. She said the call center was closed. I asked if there was any other place. She said no. The whole time she did not look up from her cell phone (which now that I think about it, would have been a good place to make a call).

Now I was getting kind of desperate because I had no idea where Las Terrenas was or how I would get there if the hotel did not send someone to Sanchez to meet me. I walked around the bus terminal looking for someone who looked friendly and might let me use their cell phone and saw a travel agency. I thought, at least I can try.

I went in and the woman was sort of friendly. She kind of smiled when I said good morning. I explained the situation and she sort of reluctantly looked at the phone number I gave her. I told her I would pay her. She took the number and made the call. I told her I needed to tell them I would be in Sanchez in four hours. She relayed the message for me.

Now I could relax.

I didn't know how much to pay her. I stood up, not really intending to pay because I didn't know what would be an appropriate amount, but I stuck my hand in my pocket anyway. She motioned no to me through the thick glass that separated us. I thanked her and left, feeling like for the first time someone had actually helped me and been kind of nice about it.

I got on the very cold bus and continued reading my favorite book, Eat, Pray, Love. I've done my share of eating, but I thought maybe I should pray and love a little. We made our first stop and almost everyone got off the bus. I stayed on because I didn't see any need to get off. I used the bathroom at the back of the bus. New people got on the bus and we continued on. It was really cold on the bus.

We passed through some really beautiful countryside. Lush green fields, rolling hills, palm plantations, forests... I slept, I read, and then I started to worry. I thought the bus was making several stops before Sanchez, but Lonely Planet said Sanchez was 2.5 hours from Santo Domingo. The stop we made was 2 hours into our trip. The crabby girl at the bus station said four hours. Who was right? Should I trust her, or Lonely Planet? I started to wonder if maybe I missed my stop. I started to think about how I would get back to Sanchez if I had missed it. I worried that someone would be there waiting for me. Then I started to tell myself that everything would be ok. In Eat, Pray, Love, my favorite book, the Indonesian medicine man tells Liz that we all have four brother spirits that protect us. I started to pray to my brother spirits.

We made another stop. This time I paid attention. It was Nagua. Was Nagua before or after Sanchez? I prayed to my brother spirits.

From Nagua we were now on the coast. We passed along some beautiful undeveloped coastline. There were no big hotels, no fancy resorts, just pure beach with palm trees that were in kind of a messy state. From there we headed inland a bit and traveled along a river until finally we arrived at Sanchez.

Whew!

I got off the bus and there were some very eager men outside to help me with my luggage. I knew we were no longer in Santo Domingo. They actually communicated instead of grunting at me. One of them helped me with my bag. They asked if I was going to Las Terrenas. I told them I was. Turns out they were taxi drivers. Well, one was a taxi driver, the other a motorcycle taxi driver. I told them someone was meeting me. As we were 10 minutes early, I guessed that my real driver would be there soon with a card with my name on it and the logo of my hotel, as promised in the e-mail I got from Maria before I left.

I went to the small bus station and waited for my driver.

I waited.

And waited.

It was now after 2 and my driver was not there.

The young guy with the motorcycle sat outside the station picking at the skin on his leg. Finally, he turned to me and asked me if I wanted to call to see if they were coming. I said yes. I gave him the phone number and he passed it through the glass to the guy in the window at the bus station. The guy called and handed me the phone.

I said in my best Spanish, because everyone in the bus station, the clerk, two taxi drivers and one passenger, was listening to me..."hello, this is Richard Kappra... I am in Sanchez... is someone coming...for me...?" the man on the other end said, "no". I said, "oh". I was confused. I thought this was all arranged.

Anyway, the guy was very nice and proceeded to tell me all of the options I had to get to Las Terrenas. I could take a public bus, or I could take a gua gua, which is a kind of mini van thing that I had a very bad experience with in Indonesia (I got on but couldn't get off without climbing over people and it was very messy). He didn't mention the two options that were standing right in front of me, a taxi and a motorcycle taxi.

I thought I would go with the taxi because I had my backpack, but when I hung up the phone, and said no one was coming, the motorcycle guy asked me if I wanted to go by motorbike. I pointed to my backpack and asked if it was ok and he said yes.

And so off we went, with me on the seat behind this guy and my backpack balanced on the handlebars of the motorcycle.

We went up some hills and through some very hilly, windy, foresty roads. The rear tire needed air, or I needed to lose weight (or both), but as we went along and I felt the cool fresh air hitting my skin, I started to get really glad that no one came to pick me up. It was absolutely beautiful as we crossed this low mountain range (hills actually) that separated Sanchez from Las Terrenas. At one point we could see Samana bay, where the whales come every year from January to March. I started to drink in the sights and smells, trying to remember every detail, the feel of the air on my skin, the smell of the vegetation wet with humidity, the smell of wet dirt, the smell of all of this mixing with the gas fumes from the motorcycle. We started winding down towards sea level and it began to get warm again, but was still very humid. All along there were signs telling us how many kilometers it was to Playa Colibri. At least I picked a place that believed in advertising!

I counted the kilometers down, 13, 10, 9, 500 meters... my butt was sore and my legs were aching. My shoulders were getting a little too much sun, but I was having a great time!

We rolled into Las Terrenas down main street, or I think it is Avenue Duarte... I saw lots of people looking at us as we rolled by. I thought they must have thought I looked quite a sight with my hair standing straight up from the wind and the back tire of this motorbike straining under my weight. As we got closer to the beach, traffic became less and less, and so did the road. Eventually we were on a dirt road that alternated between being wet dirt, mud and huge puddles. Finally, we arrived at Playa Colibri.

I walked up to reception and the guy behind the desk immediately knew who I was. With a big smile (I think the first I have seen so far) he greeted me and said, "Mr. Kappra, look how you came here!" There was a young French girl behind the desk too. They both complimented me on my Spanish, checked me in and the smiling young black guy behind the desk took me to my room.

My room is at the very back of the complex, which at first kind of bugged me because I asked for an ocean view. We went up three flights of stairs to the top floor, he opened the door and I felt a wave of relief wash away all of the worrying and panicking from the bus and motorcycle rides.

I knew the place was decorated in turquoise and other pastels, because I had seen pictures on the website, but I didn't think it would look as nice as it did. We walked into a big airy kitchen with a table and sofa that opened up to a terrace with another table and two big chairs. He showed me the bedroom with a big bed and lots of light streaming in through the turquoise shutters. I loved it! He kept telling me I had the most beautiful apartment. I agreed, but think he probably said that to all of the guests!

I like my apartment because it is the last one and from my terrace I can see the ocean in one direction and in the other direction there are only trees and some views of the hills I came across on the motorcycle. There is a big beautiful tropical garden in the center of the complex and it is so peaceful and beautiful. I'm in paradise!