So, there we are in JD. We walk across Rt 3 for our first pollo guisado at the intersection to Los Conuscos(sp). We had a very good, and cheap meal, and then headed back to Don Pedro. Since it was the 4th, we decided to head to the little bar across from the pension, and have a couple of beers. Before we know it, the bartender was on our side of the bar, and we were drinking too many mamajuanas. We watched a couple of kids have a "dance off" in the street, and laughed our arses off. The wife went to bed, and I should have... another story completely, but involved a wild car ride to SPedro w/an american going to medical school there.
7-15-06
After apologizing profusely to the wife, and drinking a couple of liters of water, we decided to make the final push to Bayahibe. So, we headed back out to Rt 3, and hailed a publico to LaRomana. There we had lunch at Y'Alondro's Pizza(sp). We had the house special, which included shrimp and canned corn. Interesting, but hit the spot. By this time, and a couple of beers, my head was feeling a bit better. Earlier, we had befriended a guy named Franscisco in the Parque Central, where the bus dropped us off. I was certainly leery of his intentions, but he turned out to be a nice guy. He led us to the pizza place, and told us he would be back in an hour to drive us to Bayahibe, for $12US. Don't know if it was a good deal or not, but we wanted a little more room, and we were ready to get out of LaRomana. It seemed like a pretty bustling place, dirty, and kind of sketchy. According to the 1999 LP Guide, we needed to exchange money, and pretty much prepare ourselves to be in a ghost town when we arrived in Baya. Not quite the same now. But, back to the ride. We waited, and waited for Franscisco. But, he never showed. So, while exchanging a few hundred bucks at an exchange house, a Dominican came in, and asked the clerk how much money we had exchanged. I was able to understand enough of what was being said. So, giving my wife the word, we stayed in the cambio long enough for me to tuck the pesos in my money belt, and I gave her some pesos to tuck into her "secret spot". Stepping out into the street, we started heading towards the parque central, still hoping Franscisco would appear. Instead a Haitian man appeared behind us, and tried to strike up a conversation. He appeared to be speaking in French, of which I know none. My wife tried to make nice, and responded with some basic French. He couldn't respond. Feeling we were ready to get into some fun, we changed the sides of the street and bid goodbye. He cut onto the street in front of us just as we made it to the parque. Faced with a big Haitian, with something on his mind, and a moto driver, smiling, and telling us he would get us to Baya in 15 minutes....
Well, he got us there in 15 minutes. I was riding on back, with my day pack strapped on my back, and shouldering the other 2 packs. One good pothole, and I was cooked. So, my wife wrapped one arm around me, and one arm around the driver. I think she hugged him tighter.
So, we were off. Swerving potholes, passing trucks, getting passed by buses, all of the usual butt clinching antics of taking a moto. Then, it happened. We were heading down into a valley with a nice wide river. There were people swimming at the falls, there appeared to be beached river boats, just a lot of things to see. Ahead of us were 3 buses. The coast looked clear from my 3rd row seat. Just as we passed the first bus, a set of lights appeared at the crest of the hill, coming down our way. Excitement!!! Well, having cleared the first bus, surely we would settle in line and wait for the petrol rig to pass, barrelling down the hill. Well, instead we went on to begin overtaking the next bus. I felt the plastic from the seat disappearing into my shorts. My wife's hands were beginning to change from a gentle grasp, to a skin piercing pinch. The rig ahead began flicking his lights on and off. Just as we passed the 2nd bus, I felt a rush of relief. But, the little moto that could, had a little more work to do. I couldn't believe what the @#$$ was happening. We were going up hill, 3 deep, passing another bus, when a rig was building steam coming down in our lane. At this point in time, I could no longer feel the pain of my wife's nails. Her eyes were shut, and her head was laying on the back of the driver. I just kissed the back of her head. It was an all on race for life or death! With maybe 25 ft to spare, we just cleared the front of the lead bus as the rig rolled by with a blast of the horn.
Bayahibe was an interesting little down, and we were bumped down the dirt roads to the Villa Iguana. It was okay, kind of like a little prison cell, but with A/C, and a safe. As we bid the moto driver farewell, we felt reborn. I tried my best to express my displeasure with his machismo, but we all laughed when he rubbed the side of his little bike and flexed his bicep.
to be continued...
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