The day Richard Bender, owner of the house we were going to rent in Samana, suggested we rent a car and drive to his house in Samana, I should have guessed the trip was going to be more of an adventure of whatever will be, will be than any of our other international trips where private tour guides were commissioned to organize our sightseeing adventures.
Starting with finding Hertz at the Santo Domingo airport, even though there is a Hertz as a visible counter inside the airport, no one was around, no sign that said, “please proceed to the office outside the building.”
The search for the rental car office roaming around the perimeter of a very busy airport proved a bit of a challenge, especially when I was the only one who had a smattering of Spanish, and very badly since I was pulling my knowledge of the language from my mother tongue, Tagalog, a mish-mash of Malay and Ancient Castillan. It was also a struggle to make a phone call in the Dominical Republic because Verizon failed to give me instructions on how to make local calls. So even tough I clearly had roaming reception on my Blackberry, none of my calls were going through.
The active rental car office is a nondescript building sitting in front of the airport, its front door facing away. There were no signs, only the tell tale signs of people milling about the front door and what looked like rental car employees holding paper and directing people to cars. Happily, that turned out to be the case – all active rental car companies were housed in here and a bustle of people were at counters arranging for their rentals.
It never fails that the car you originally selected at the time of reservation is never available. We originally requested a Fiat Chroma that had a manual transmission, thinking there would be hills and rough terrain to navigate. Instead, we were offered a Linea – a compact car with an automatic transmission. Fine. It was getting late and I wanted to get on the two hour drive before it got too dark.
I have to admit that the newly built toll highway (opened in early 2009) to Samana was clearly marked, easy enough to find if you pay attention to signs and smooth sailing till you get to the T which marked the turn off to Samana. With Jim behind the wheel, me navigating with just Richard’s directions to his house, and HT backseat driving, that’s when our adventures began.
Light was quickly fading as we headed for Sanchez, and from there, it would still be another 45 minutes through a lane and a half roadway – some 40 kilometers. It was fascinating (although I’m sure nerve racking for Jim), to fly through the while motorcycles and scooters with their single-headlight darted all around us – behind, in front, from both sides – like fireflies coming at us, a flicker of light then gone, its vroom fading into the dark.
Jim is not as accomplished driving in the dark as me. The art of darting in and out of an obstacle course swerving to avoid potholes and the scooters, passing up slow gauguas creeping up the steep hills of the peninsula, while squinting against oncoming vehicles with their brights blinding the bend something I’ve honed as a Manhattan driver.
Shack-like tiendas, comedors, and cantinas loudly blaring salsa attracting bailar dotted the roadside of Sanchez and Galleras. Saturday night was alive for these locals still millng about the streets. The peninsula in the dark is full of color, texture, and life. Dark faces smiled because it was the weekend and Sunday is a day off for all. It was time to party.
We neared the “mile marker” 6 just as Richard’s instructions indicated without much of a problem. We found the Claro cellular tower as the landmark he asked us to lookout for. The road started on an incline and just as “you get to the top of the hill, you will see a restaurant overlooking the bay.” I’m trying very hard not to fault Richard for his directions. I suppose had this been broad daylight, we might have found it easily. In the dark of night with no street lights to guide you, you will miss this “restaurant,” which by the way was perpetually closed the whole we were there. So we rode to the top of the hill. No fancy restaurant with a wide turn in as he’d suggested. As we started the descent, we entered the town of Samana itself. By then, I figured we had passed the house. So off we turn around to start back up the hill, then down again where the tower was. Slowly we climbed the hill keeping our eyes peeled for the restaurant. Nothing. Finally, we decided to turn into this empty lot that had a building – looking like a restaurant, but we weren’t sure I desperately tried to call Richard but I consistently got a “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not in service…” I finally reached him calling the house phone. That’s when we found out, the shuttered Bahia Principe was in fact the restaurant, and no the bay is pitch black.
We navigated our way back down the hill, in search of the street light and a yellow stone wall, finally finding the tiny entryway and slowly inched down to this house. We have arrived at last. We took a brief tour of the house but I figured tomorrow was soon enough to see it all, take it all in. As I finally lay in bed, I heard the ocean waves lapping the beach, a sound I have not heard in two years. It was like this Piscean babe come home to mama. Sheer exhaustion took over and I slept like a baby.
Left Brain Genius 
