World Dominican Republic La Romana La Romana

Silverheels II in the Western Caribbean

La Romana, Dominican Republic Mar 12, 2009

There are several elements that should make the Dominican Republic an outstanding travel destination. For one, it’s relatively cheap. You can get a huge bowl of sancocho, which is a stew made with plantains, yams, coconut milk and whatever meat is available, and chase it with a beer for a few bucks. The towns are real; gritty and maybe a little seedy (if you want to see a group of fifty-something gringos scurry into the shadows with their hands over their faces, try accidentally waltzing into what looks like a bar but is actually a La Romana whorehouse with a Nikon D3 and a telephoto lens slung around your neck). The cities, to say the least, have character and much of the countryside is beautiful, wild, mountainous and undeveloped. The sprawling luxury resort and marina of Casa De Campo has succeeded in completely eliminating all of these elements. It has all the character of a sub-development and is a great destination if you require from your resorts a polo field, don’t mind paying South Beach prices for drinks and need to land your helicopter on top of your villa. The management has perfected the art of separating dollars from wallets. Take, for example, the “Casa De Campo Taxi Hustle.” The front desk will gladly arrange an official “Casas De Campo” hotel taxi, the only ones allowed on the premises, to take guests on the five-mile round-trip into La Romana for about $25. This seemed a little exorbitant to me, especially in a country where sugar cane cutters make $1 per ton (a really good one can cut three tons a day). Not being in a mood to be ripped off, I sought out the area where the several thousand resort employees find their transportation. When I found the employee exit, with an adjacent parking lot full of local buses and taxis, the security guard told me that I was not allowed to leave that way. “You must go back to the desk for a taxi!” “Or what?” I asked as I walked through the gate and hopped in a cab for the two-dollar ride to town. It was my first experience with a resort that essentially charges a fee for leaving the premises. This taxi scam should come as no surprise to the visiting yachtsman, however, because the extortion game begins the minute he ties to the dock. As soon as the lines are around the dock cleats, officials begin trickling through the boat, each with their own special document and rubber stamp and each demanding fees and a tip. I can understand customs and immigration and possibly even the navy, but the dog and cat man? And what’s the difference between the navy and the marine defense force? Then there’s the port captain, the fruit and vegetable inspection guy, the narcotics unit and some kid with a baseball cap and a military-ish uniform who doesn’t seem to have any responsibilities other than to ask for a tip. Of course, one you get past the bureaucratic nonsense out of the “sanitized for your safety” resort, the Dominican Republic is a fascinating country of great natural beauty. Taking a dune buggy up the Chavon River valley and through the cane fields offered a small chance to view how the agricultural workers live in this country. While passing through the tiny villages surrounding the cane plantations, the local children would run out of their homes and line the sides of the streets waving and hoping for a gift. The poverty was evident when a group of kids nearly tore each other apart after I handed one a ballpoint pen. I thought it would be a useful gift, but I learned my lesson. Next time, bring enough for the whole class. Michael

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