Dominican Republic by jeep

We hire a jeep for two days. On the first day, we are accompanied by three young Frenchmen from Martinique. Our first stop is Playa Grande, one of the most beautiful beaches in the Dominican Republic. Our breakfast is served directly on the beach: Grilled red snapper with fried bananas, rice and salad. We watch the surfers in the big waves. The friendly chefs charge perverse prices.

During my four visits to the Dominican Republic, I must have ridden 2000 kilometres on my motorbike. The roads have always been bad. Everyone drove like idiots, see“Traffic in the Dominican Republic“. But the roads have never been as bad as they are now.

The constant dodging of potholes up to 25cm deep resembles the C64 classic Frogger. You can’t concentrate on anything else. After almost 200 kilometres and 3.5 hours, I’m exhausted in Samana. Here, too, the fishermen make a big fuss and want five times the price for the transfer to Cayo Levantado, the prototype of a Caribbean dream island.

Four years ago, Cayo Levantado was a dream. A full beach, easy to avoid on the remaining 90 empty per cent of the island. A rotten old hotel that would probably never be renovated. Pelicans, white sand, palm trees, coral and fish in crystal blue water. Unfortunately, that time is over. A five-star resort has bought up 90% of the island and sealed it off. You can only go to an overcrowded, polluted beach. From.

Rain clouds gather on the way back. It’s raining so hard that torrents of water are running down the straps we’ve used to fasten our kiteboards to the soft top and into the car. The back seat is busy building rain collection containers MacGyver-style.

I’m out of it for a moment. After a total of five hours of constant pothole slalom, I miss a deep hole in the pouring rain. The result: a burst rear tyre. Unfortunately, there’s no jack in the Jeep. Just a special offer. A military man stops, gives us his jack and we fit the spare tyre.

We have the tyre changed at the next petrol station. There’s no suitable tyre in the small pile, but that’s no problem. Our Jeep already had three different tyres anyway. Now it has four different tyres.

To say that the traffic in the Dominican Republic is almost paradisiacal after a visit to Vietnam was a fallacy. But I’ve also never driven at dusk on a Saturday. All Dominicans drink on Saturdays. Properly. As there are no breathalysers anywhere in the Dominican Republic, of course everyone drives. Drunk as a skunk.

I avoid at least five collisions within an hour after dusk. Scooters without lights coming towards me on the right-hand side, children jumping onto the road, jeeps almost ramming into me from the left. Every idiot is dazzled, their own light reaches five metres. One merengue pub after another, in every village, drunks everywhere, loud music and looming dangers from all directions. After an hour in the dark, we arrive safely in Cabarete. Sabine calls me a hero, I feel like one and advise everyone against travelling after dark.