36 hours in San Sebastián, Spain
When disembarked and took a look at Amber Cove, my initial thought was: “Oh, no.” We had just docked in the Dominican Republic after a full travel day at sea - a fairly smooth, tranquil journey (this was, thankfully, weeks before Hurricane Matthew struck the region) through the Caribbean on our ship, the Adonia. I was on the third day of a weeklong Fathom “impact” cruise, the goal of which is to engage the several hundred passengers in on-the-ground volunteer activities in and around the Dominican town of Puerto Plata, on the northern coast of the country.
In addition to volunteering, I was excited to do some exploring of the surrounding area. Where we had landed, however - an $85 million “town” called Amber Cove - didn’t instil in me a lot of hope. The port of call, built specifically by Carnival to entertain cruise passengers (and separate them from their money) is a complex of cabanas, overpriced shops and deck chairs that’s about as interesting as a tract housing development.
I knew that if I were going to get any real sense of the country during my limited time there, I would have to escape Amber Cove. Armed with nothing more than some cash, my passport and my cruise card (which I needed to be readmitted to Amber Cove and the ship), I made the long walk to I the front gate of the town.
The taxis inside the complex had friendly drivers and wellmaintained cars, but are on the pricier side, so I decided to take my chances outside on the street.
I was immediately approached by a group of men with their personal automobiles, and we began to haggle. Haggling happens constantly in the Dominican Republic, and I would encourage travellers to embrace it. Big gestures, overreactions and feigned outrage are commonplace - just keep a good sense of humour and remember that the price difference probably means more to them than it does to you.
I negotiated a half-day trip around the nearby town of Puerto Plata with a middle-aged man named Modesto Toribio. He quoted me $50. After a few grand gestures and some faux exasperation we settled on $30. Our first stop was the “teleférico,” or “cable car,” which bills itself as the only one in the Caribbean. The fee is 350 Dominican pesos (about $8) or 100 pesos for Dominican citizens.
The brightly coloured “teleférico” is suspended high above ground like a ski lift. It lurched into the air and I was treated to a gorgeous view of the town below. After roughly 10 minutes, we arrived at the top of Mount Isabel de Torres, greeted by an enormous Christ the Redeemer statue.
Once at the top, I wandered around the lush, peaceful surrounding national park. You’ll probably be approached by people trying to sell you souvenirs or offering to take you on a tour - feel free to say no in a firm but friendly manner.
Puerto Plata is famous for its beaches, which are quite lovely. Modesto and I drove along the coast until we came to a pair of adjacent beaches, Cosita Rica and Long Beach. We sat at a beachside cafe called D’Mariolis and ordered a café con leche and a milkshake made with sapote - a soft tropical fruit that tastes vaguely of caramel and blends wonderfully into icy, milky drinks. The total cost was 115 pesos, or about $2.50. Beach chairs can be rented for 100 pesos.
I had a great time exploring with Toribio, but some activities are more fun when done in a group. On a different day, I set out with 10 fellow cruise passengers in a rented white minibus (my share was $10) for 27 Charcos, the waterfalls of the Damajagua river. Yes, there are 27 waterfalls, and yes, it is possible to jump, splash and slide down each and every one of them.
Visitors can pay for access to seven, 12 or all 27 waterfalls; we decided to do the whole thing, and each forked over $12. Plan to be gone most of the day, and bring food and water. If you want, lunch can be provided for you, which adds $7 to the price of your waterfall adventure.
Our dutiful guides outfitted us with helmets and life jackets, and we began a long, uphill trek that took about an hour. We stopped periodically to catch our breath, our guides forging ahead and encouraging us by happily shouting, “Only five more minutes - Dominican time!” After five minutes had passed, then 10, we soon learned the meaning of “Dominican time” - whenever you get there, you get there.
But even the most out-ofshape of us got there, and that’s when the fun began. One by one, we slid, jumped or otherwise traversed down more than two dozen waterfalls of varying length and ferocity. Some were just trickles into a deep pool, others were mammoth 20-foot plunges off a rocky cliff. For some of the scarier jumps, those who didn’t wish to plunge were able to glide down the smooth rock, as if on a waterslide. Access to the different falls depends on precipitation, one of the guides explained; if there hasn’t been enough rain, some of the pools will be too shallow to jump into.
A few words of advice: Wear a swimsuit, one that you don’t mind getting slightly damaged. Also, wear sneakers. They’ll be drenched, but it’s far better to have the support when you’re hiking on the sharp rocks; those who rented the park’s thin water shoes ended up with very sore feet. Last, leave your phone in your car - it’s going to get soaked. (You can hire an additional guide to follow you the whole day and take photos.)
By the time we’d completed the last waterfall, we were tired and famished. After tipping our guides (everyone chipped in a few bucks) we piled into our van and headed back to the ship. It was a full, exhausting day - the dutyfree shopping and $4 cappuccinos of Amber Cove were almost a welcome sight. That evening, thanks to the all-you-can-eat dining aboard the cruise ship, I had two entrees and two desserts.