I arrived there in the guagua, my favorite public transportation medium, with a record of 24 people in one little van. With all my bags on my lap, I was barely able to see anything but my sleeping bag. I held my breath for 1,5 hours before I got off the bus in Soshua.
The second day I visited the beach which was loaded with tourists and everything that develops around them. It wasn't very big, so after saying a 100 times "no gracias" to the locals trying to sell me either food, beer, ice-cream or the same paintings as in Las Terrenas (or anywhere else in the country) I reached the other side and I walked back to the hotel. What a great adventure !!
The third day I tried my luck in t
he other direction. At this beach, which was completely desolate, apart from 4 locals fishing from the rocks, I could enjoy some silence and nature. It was a good thing that I bought slippers just the day before (the asphalt was too hot to walk barefeeted, I discovered when I was in the town) but still the sharp remains of the coral when straight through the bottom of the slippers.
I made along walk along this beautiful piece of nature and eventually found a tiny little beach beneath the rocks where I went for a swim.
On the same spot I found these interesting remains of a colony of some sort...
The last interesting thing I experienced there was the nightlife. David, a 50 year old, big black American guy, who speaks Spanish fairly well and who seemed to know everyone in town that appeared often in the clubs took me out and showed me all the places. Although my plans were different, his mind was set on finding a girl for me, so his first question when we paid off our motoconcho's was "black our white girls". I said "white" and we buggered off. It wasn't clear to me (still isn't) what black or white in this country means. Some rather Hispanic guys call themselves black, while there as tanned as we could be after 2 months in a really sunny place, and some call themselves white, while there as black as the night. It's your origins that define your color, not your actual color...
Anyway, we kind of quickly scanned all the bars, had a beer in some of them (met a Walloon that lived since 8 years in the place) and David said it was a quite night. There weren't a lot of people going out (the economic recession has its effects everywhere). We ended up in a 'hooker' bar, as David stated, which I noticed as soon as I stopped walking. Girls started touching me and throwing these typical looks at me. Finally David decided to leave and I had a drink at the bar with some guy that always tries to make friends among tourists, which is often a cheap way to get through the night. Looking around I noticed other tourists enjoying all the attention they got just from the fact that their skincolor shouted 'Dineros !!' at the dominicans. I also had the feeling I could better avoid the eyes of one of the bartender girls, who kept on dancing in front of me, as not to raise expectations which I wasn't going to fill in anyway. Eventually I went back to the hotel, knowing that this wasn't the place to learn some merengue or salsa dancing...
No comments:
Post a Comment