TRAVEL - Dreaming in the Dominican Republic

FLYING does not hold any fears for me, neither does driving a car or travelling by boat. What I can’t stand is the length of any journey. When I used to holiday in Greece, visiting the same island twice a year for almost twenty years, I got acclimatised to the near four hour experience. By the time I reached Kos I was just beginning to get weary and fidgety, writes Peter Faulkner

And going to Tunisia last year was heavenly, just three hours from lift-off to touchdown. That’s the sort of journey I love.

So when my daughter-in-law booked a family holiday for all of us in the Dominican Republic I shuddered at the thought of almost nine hours in the same position, bored with the thought of very little to pass the time of day and worried, not about crashing, but about deep vein thrombosis.

To say I was surprised is putting it mildly. By the time I had watched two new film releases, supped a couple of bacardi and cokes, ate some lunch (or was it breakfast) and then finished off with an hour or more of comedy programmes, we were ready to touch down in the Dominican.

And that was the start of not only an unbelievable holiday, but an educational and eye-opening two weeks in the searing Caribbean sunshine.

What struck me first as we made our way through Puerta Plata was the obvious poverty of many people. The shops looked as if they had just been rebuilt after a hurricane and many of the houses were of similar appearance. They had simple corrugated sheet roofing and even the walls of some of the houses looked as if they were held up with wooden stilts.

And as motorbikes carrying two or people jostled for position amongst cars battling in a war zone type rush hour, we waited with baited breath to see what our accommodation as going to be like.

Suddenly the poverty was behind us. Before our eyes was the Riu Merengue – one of three luxury hotels on the complex that we could use – in the picturesque cove of Bahia Maimon complete with palm trees, open plan entrance hall to entice the cooling breeze, internet café, a private white sand beach that stretched as far as the eye could see, and a tropical paradise that was in complete contrast to what we had witnessed on our journey from the airport.

Well, the people of Puerta Plata may not be wealthy, but for the next two weeks I was to discover that they are rich in kindness and hospitality.

The dining room offered a choice beyond belief. Specially cooked omelettes for breakfast along with fried eggs, scrambled eggs, bacon, schnitzel, toast, rolls, every kind of cereal, appetising fresh fruit, tea, coffee, cold drinks, water, - no-one could complain about the lack of choice.

Lunchtimes and evening were just the same. Cold buffets, burgers, hot dogs, pasta, soups, more fruit, fresh meats hot and cold, chilli, Dominican specials, chicken, steak, and mouth-watering desserts if you could find room for them (and, of course, providing you weren’t worried about your waistline).

When you weren’t eating or swimming in the pools or the warm Atlantic ocean, you were probably drinking and with several bars on the beach to choose from, as well as those round the pool, you were never too far away from something to quench your thirst. What impressed me as well was how such a small bar staff were able to cater for a such a large clientele yet we were rarely kept waiting. What’s more they always served you with a smile and with a traditional high five or touch of the knuckles.

During the course of my holiday I booked an Outback Safari. This was a trip on an open topped lorry into the jungle area or Puerta Plata to show us how many people lived and how going to school was something of a luxury for many kids, not to say a mission.

The road leading to the first school was some 10k long, filled with holes and treacherous dips and trenches either side that filled with water and mud when the heavy rains came.