The Longest Day. . . Pt 3 The End of the Journey

Part 3: The End of the Journey

For the next several hours after arriving in the Dominican Republic, we stopped at 10 immigration/police check points where we were asked for our passports, made another stop along the side of the road for passengers needing to relieve themselves, and a dinner stop where everything finally got to Mimi.  Mimi had asked one of our new Haitian friends from the bus to buy a water for her. . . she gave her the only $1 we had.  We still had 2 $20 bills but were holding onto those for dear life at this point.  The lady at the restaurant began yelling at the woman and that was all Mimi could take.  The Haitian and Dominican women gathered around her and comforted her.  They paid the remainder of the water and gave her a plate of food.  Angels had arrived to minister to my wife in a beautiful way and even provided water from a rock and manna from heaven.  By now we were sure that this day would never come to an end.

So we got back on the bus. . . I used my roaming data to determine that we were still about an hour from Barahona.  Mind you we were informed that this was between a 3-4 hour trip and it was now approximately 7:30 p.m. and we had started our journey at 10:00 a.m.  I was beginning to feel a bit like Gilligan on a three hour tour. . . (apologies to those born after 1980 for that childhood reference).  At about 8:30 p.m. we rolled into the outskirts of Barahona and we were home free. . . or so we thought.

The bus “Mommi” who had promised to take us to the bus station in Barahona, determined that our time on the bus had come to an end and that the Americanos had to disembark immediately.  To her credit, I know she was looking ahead to the remaining 3 hour trip into the capital city and realizing this trek was taking too long even for the natives.  She informed us that the man in front of us who was also getting off the bus would insure our safe travel the rest of the way.  We were caught in a momentary panic.  “What do we do?”  “Are they going to rob us and leave us somewhere?”  Reluctantly and with a bit of encouragement from my wife’s new “angels” we got our luggage and put it into the back of a pick-up and headed towards Barahona.  

The driver was making good time, flying through the windy roads.  Mimi commented, “I like how this guy drives.”  Obviously we were anxious to get to our destination.  Just as she said that we passed a speed limit sign that said, “70 KM” and we both instinctively looked at the man’s speedometer to see how fast he was going.  It turns out the speedometer didn’t work and we got a big kick out of that.  I reminded Mimi that the bus driver was much more cautious and did not want to hit a pot hole (which I counted 745 on the journey) and blow a tire.  As if my words were prophetic beyond my expectation we hit a pot hole and blew a tire.  The driver continued to drive, slowed to about 80% of his previous speed and kept going towards Barahona.

Eventually we found a place to pull over and did so.  The tire and rim were destroyed!  Our new friends informed us that Barahona was only 3 KM in “that direction”.  We called our friends in Barahona and as we were talking with them, these friends flagged down a passing vehicle and we got into yet another vehicle with yet another person we do not know.  At this point and perhaps even before, Mimi and I are getting quite punchy.  We are certain that some people will accuse us of making this stuff up.... but it is true.

Less than five minutes after we were wisked into the second pickup truck, we finally arrived at the Barahona Bus Depot to meet up with our Children of the Nations staff.  A few minutes later we arrived at a land flowing with milk and honey which was expressed in exotic fruit juices, pizza, and a swimming pool.  It was 9:30 p.m. when we completed our journey, that we had anticipated being at by noon.

Promised Land Pool

Main Casa for Children of the Nations

A couple of side notes that we’ve discovered since we have returned to the states.

1. The bus trip to the border should have taken 1 hour, plus 1 hour through customs and 1 1/2 hours to Barahona from the border to equal 3 1/2 hours as we had anticipated.
2. The lake/border we crossed and several points considered getting out and wading through, is crocodile infested.  The salt-water crocs have made the lake (which has a high volume of salt in it) their new home and there have been many warnings issued by the Dominican government in this regard.  I’m really glad I didn’t know this ahead of time.
3. The DR is the second safest country in Latin America to Costa Rica.  We certainly experienced that as angels in the guise of fellow bus passengers and pick-up drivers on the outskirts of town delivered us to our destination.

Dorms in Tropical Paradise

So the question is: who’s going to the DR with me next summer?  I’m starting the recruiting today!