When you come to the fork in the road.....
It was an adventurous, albeit cultural experience as my friend Linda Rincones and I drove from Punta Cana to Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic. Initially we traveled west toward Boca Chico where we approached our first fork in the road. Confidentially we chose the wrong prong. After a ten kilometer cruise we took a gander through a neighborhood which luckily led us back to the correct prong. A few hours later we approached three more forks. We took each one in stride appreciating our decision to make this trip come what may. But the fourth fork forked us. Hence our intended six hour drove brought us to Puerto Plato an additional six hours later.
A 3rd world country, on the eve of the country's major holiday, makes a daunting drive through narrow streets. Mopeds carrying 3 and 4 people whiz past on your left and your right. Oncoming vehicles with out of line high beams blind you. Yellow and green headlights make you glad you didn't indulge in any whacky substance. Choosing a hotel was the scariest part. Me, having the heebe jeebies about sleeping in motels versus Linda's quirks about the two of us sleeping in the car caused a dilemma. After my third yawn I conceded. We drove into the steeply inclined parking lot of this particular Cabana. While driving through the darkened maze of apartment looking structures, each with an enclosed single car garage, I swore they did not rent rooms.
A girl, probably in het twenties was standing in her driveway. I pulled the car toward her. Linda rolled down her window and asked if she knew where we could find a room to sleep in for the night. She simply said, ' here.' For $62 we secured our room. Like all the rooms it has an attached enclosed garage with an electric door opener. The room has a vaulted ceiling, a flat screen tv, and is very clean. Instead of the mints we found colorfully wrapped condoms on the pillows. At last we found humor before passing out after our twelve hour chatathon during the long day's drive.
A 3rd world country, on the eve of the country's major holiday, makes a daunting drive through narrow streets. Mopeds carrying 3 and 4 people whiz past on your left and your right. Oncoming vehicles with out of line high beams blind you. Yellow and green headlights make you glad you didn't indulge in any whacky substance. Choosing a hotel was the scariest part. Me, having the heebe jeebies about sleeping in motels versus Linda's quirks about the two of us sleeping in the car caused a dilemma. After my third yawn I conceded. We drove into the steeply inclined parking lot of this particular Cabana. While driving through the darkened maze of apartment looking structures, each with an enclosed single car garage, I swore they did not rent rooms.
A girl, probably in het twenties was standing in her driveway. I pulled the car toward her. Linda rolled down her window and asked if she knew where we could find a room to sleep in for the night. She simply said, ' here.' For $62 we secured our room. Like all the rooms it has an attached enclosed garage with an electric door opener. The room has a vaulted ceiling, a flat screen tv, and is very clean. Instead of the mints we found colorfully wrapped condoms on the pillows. At last we found humor before passing out after our twelve hour chatathon during the long day's drive.
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