Welcome to the Dominican Republic

On the 13th, I left Puerto Rico for the Dominican Republic and, with that, left behind any semblance of American Culture. In the Dominican Republic, I quickly realized that, though two territories may be close in proximity, they can be drastically different. Our flight from San Juan to Santo Domingo lasted only one hour, but landing on Dominican territory reinforced the fact that I was no longer in my home country.

Our introduction to the Dominican Republic was hectic and a bit terrifying–nothing like the rest of our stay in the country would prove to be.

We arrived at the airport in the afternoon and decided to go directly to our hostel in the old city so that we could put down our bags and explore Santo Domingo on foot. Finding transport to the hostel, however, was one of the biggest adventures of our trip. When I heard that taxis wanted $40 to bring tourists to the city center from the airport, I was shocked. Forty dollars is a lot for a taxi ride in the United States, let alone in the Dominican Republic. I knew this had to be a way of squeezing money out of tourists, so I tried bargaining. However, the taxistas would not budge on the price.

Finally, frustrated, I asked a group of Americans if they knew anything about the price of cab rides. They confirmed the outrageous price, but stated that they had lived in Santo Domingo for decades and would give us a ride to our hostel. Dan and I accepted the offer without hesitation, clueless of the chaos that would subsequently ensue.

As we walked with our new friends out of the airport, a swarm of taxistas rushed towards us. They began dropping the price frantically–from $40 to $35 and soon down to $25. I could see that they were furious. There were very few tourists at the airport and the taxi drivers were mad that their business had just been stolen by American expats. I felt bad not giving business to local drivers, but how could I refuse a free ride?

I understood the frustration on the part of the cab drivers but I was still not expecting the situation that followed. With every step that I took, the voices of the angry taxistas rose higher and higher. Soon, they were screaming in Spanish at the family that had courteously offered to drive us and, within minutes, they had called the police.

A bit of an exaggeration? I certainly thought so.

Yet, the drivers were persistent, saying that they had been conspired against. Luckily the police were on our side. Certainly, there are more pressing issues in the Dominican Republic than a few tourists who are offered rides by Dominican residents.

Despite the slightly unsettling nature of our arrival in Santo Domingo, the rest of our stay in the city was fantastic. After we checked into our hostel, Dan and I spent the rest of the day meandering around  the city’s the Zona Colonial.

Santo Domingo is a city where the old and the new live side by side. In the Colonial Zone, crumbling churches sit beside upscale, modern eateries. It is a city of impressive cultural and historic wealth. The oldest inhabited city in the New World, modern Santo Domingo contains many relics of its dynamic past. The first architectural gem we encountered was the Catedral Primada de las Americas. As its name indicates, it is the oldest church in the new world. The cathedral also forms a centerpiece of the colonial city.