Blue lagoon. Party's over

Yesterday was the end of the long Dominican weekend here, and we found ourselves waking up to a complete silence. The music was not playing, the crowds were not on the beach celebrating like there's no tomorrow.

Breakfast was simple as always, and since we're leaving so early tomorrow morning that the chefs haven't even woken up yet, Scott decided to ask if we could eat tomorrow's breakfast today. The Boss was consulted and we got the second servings as well.

We had lunch at our Venezuelan joint and also bought chicken, empanadas and sausages for dinner.

The rest of the day was spent swimming in peace and quiet and reading a book by the pool.

Blue lagoon. The metropol

 

Since I didn't have anything to wear on my run today that wouldn't have rubbed my already hurting thighs even more, Scott kindly offered his swim trunks. So that's what I was wearing for the run. Good thing that I have a man in the right size.

Yesterday was an even bigger party than the day before, and the entire part of the sandy strip of the beach was so full of disposable dishes, empty bottles and plastic bags that the running took place in the pattern of "try to find a sandy spot to put your foot down", because there was so much more garbage than the sand visible. Also turned out that burning does not happen as quickly as new garbage is created, so the roadsides were even more full of garbage than yesterday morning.

Today our plan was to visit the capital. After breakfast, we ordered a taxi and drove to Santo Domingo. Traffic follows here the rules that the one who honks the horn the loudest has the right of way. In three days, I have seen two intersections with traffic lights and so far zero traffic signs in this country (I don't count the "one-way road" signs here, because no-one adheres to them anyway). None whatsover - no yield signs, no right-of-way signs, no no-entry signs.

Today is the Independence Day of the Dominican Republic (the country declared itself independent from Haiti in 1844). On this occasion, the city streets are full of police, police cars, parades and military vehicles. The wider street along the sea is also closed. However, this little obstackle did not bother one truck driver, who decided to drive through the colonial district with narrow streets as an alternative. I can't say how long and wide the truck with its trailer was, but even a vehicle ignorant like me could tell that this one was too long to take those tight corners. The driver, with the help of the local constable, almost managed to make the first left turn, but then got stuck because he did not take into account the cars parked on the side of the street. By then our taxi arrived and we missed the next chapter of the driver's challenge to drive the narrow streets of the colonial zone.

For lunch, we ate, among other things, local food, where mashed plantains are mixed with crispy pork rinds. It turned out to be surprisingly good.

Blue lagoon. Peppa and the cacophony

 

We started the day with a morning run. The first approx. 700 meters we could run along the beach, then the route went along the seashore, where the beach strip for nearly a kilometer was densely packed with wooden chairs and tables. On the other side of the path, there were a few sheds on the verge of collapse here and there. It can be that these joints might open in the evening like Cinderella's pumpkins and become the best gourmet joints. The next part of the running track, about 2 kilometers long, was on a garbage dump, which was being burned more or less successfully in different sections. Instead of fresh sea air, the smoke of burning plastic filled the lungs. The last bit before turning around and starting the way back was a beautiful promenade by the sea, with a couple of horses and a playground.

On the way back, I also realized that since last summer, I have eaten my thighs to the same size as Peppa Pig and they got rubbed. Obviously, I don't have more than one pair of running pants with me either. The way back went the same way, first through the garbage dump and then along the beach, which can actually also be called a garbage dump at this time of the morning. With the only difference that in this 1.5 kilometer section, garbage was not burned, but large crews were out there, cleaning up the footprints of the previous evening's guests. All the dutch courange and partying like there's no tomorrow.

What is worth mentioning in this country is the locals' love for music. And not just music, but extremely loud music. Sitting on our fifth-floor hotel balcony, we have to raise our voices to communicate with each other, and at the same time we hear three different sources of music - our hotel's music and the restaurants on both sides as well. Michael Jackson mixed with reggae and some local pop. And that's all. so. terribly. loud. In some restaurants, the music is louder than it used to be in the night clubs.

We also jumped in the sea a few times - Scott is a bit stressed that the water here is so cold (26 degrees), he was expecting warm bath water.

Blue Lagoon. VIPs in broom closet

We stayed in a village, where the party lasted until the eerie hours and those who left before that, drove home while sharing the party spirit left and right. So we were up several times during the night and took part of the after parties.

At 7:30 we sat at the breakfast table and at 8:40 were at the bus station to go to Boca Chica. We got elite tickets with the VIP written on them. Seats 81 and 82. When the bus had pulled up 30 minutes late and we started to climb the stairs, the assistant shouted something in Spanish at us, from which we realized that we probably need to put our backpacks in the locker under the stairs. Since there was also a woman sitting there, we didn't want to leave our bags there. The young man kept shouting at us. We chose random seats upstairs (because there were only about 40 seats, not 80+ as one might have thought). We finally figured out that there must be seats 81 and 82 somewhere too, because everyone else was looking for their seats by numbers, and we realized that our VIP tickets meant that we ourselves had to climb into the broom closet under the stairs and not just store our bags there. After crawling through the door about a meter high, a spacious room opened in front of us, about a meter wide, 1.40 high and filled mostly with a four-seater bench. Since it's the VIP area, our closet was also equipped with a table to rest our drinks on, and behind the seat was a long and narrow tank window. When the assistant started to close the door to our broom closet, I said that I would get a claustrophobic in this room if the door was closed, among other things. But there was a loo behind the door, and an open door would clearly have disturbed the rest of the passengers' emptying their bladders. In any case, 5 minutes later the assistant came again and said that he managed to find two free seats for us on the second floor. We moved among the common people.

In Boca Chica, our hotel is about a 10-minute walk from the main road, where the bus dropped us off, and during this short but entertaining walk, we were offered taxis about twelve times, various restaurants were advertised, and we were invited to stay in cheap hotels.

We left our bags at the hotel reception, because it was not yet time to check-in and took a short walk on the beach and then went to look for food. We chose a Venezuelan bistro and had arepas and cachapas.

We went swimming, hung out on the beach and by the pool. Scott took one more walk before dinner time and by this time the sales team had expanded their selection on the street and he was being offered women, cannabis, cocaine and anything else he could possibly want in addition to accommodation and taxis.

We had dinner in a restaurant called Trastevere and by 9:30pm we were fast asleep despite the party that was going on under our window.

Blue Lagoon. 50

Alarm at three, taxi at 3:45am and by four we were waiting in the airport security check with all the package travellers to Hurghada. The line moved quickly until both of my bags went through additional inspection. The first one was checked for explosives and the second one was checked for packed apples. All that took 16 minutes.

Tallinn-Riga departure was delayed, so we had to pick up our pace at Riga airport and arrived at the gate just in time for boarding. We got whole row of three seats for the two of us, and totally unexpectadly a croissant with ham and cheese and a bottle of water were also served. I don't know what premium class tickets I had purchased for us because the said gourmet was only served to some passengers.

In Paris we had 6+ hours to explore all of Terminal C. It takes about 1000 steps to walk from one end to the other, if anyone is interested.

The plane was overbooked and that created quite a mess with the seating of some passengers. Anyway, the lucky ones who got on board all got their seats finally. I was happy when I discovered that instead of 11 hours, it takes only 9 hours and 10 minutes to cross the Atlantic. To balance this out there was an exceptionally poor selection of movies, and since I didn't want to watch Beethoven, I read some books for most of the nine hours and listened to a child screaming its lungs out a few rows ahead.

On the plus side, there were passengers sitting around us who did their part to keep the plane clean and tidy by not wearing shoes to the toilets.

The border crossing went quickly, and I already ordered an Uber for us while walking through the baggage area. We exited the terminal and suddenly the bunch of taxi drivers bombarded us, all of them talking about how it's not safe to drive with Uber and the price is cheap at first, but then they ask for much more money and they don't even come anyway. By that time, our Honda also arrived and we started putting our lugage in the trunk. Simultaneously my phone started to iang again and a Dominican number was on the screen. I asked the Uber driver if he was call me. He thought that the phone in his pocket was ringing by accident. Took it out and no calls were going out. He then asked if I was Yulia, whom he was there to pick up. Since I'm not Yulia, we unloaded our bags from the trunk and by that time the Uber actually ordered by Gaili also arrived.

We drove to the hotel and went to sleep.