Arriving in the Dominican Republic can be a little overwhelming if you don’t know what to expect. From the plane’s tiny window, all I could see was rough, undeveloped land and occasionally a few modest homes. Then the airport appeared into view, a tiny building with palm fronds woven together for the roof. The airport got bigger and bigger until we landed. The plane’s door opened, and I could immediately feel the heat and humidity. Stepping off the plane, we were greeted by women in red, white, and blue frilly dresses. I noticed the large tropical flowers, the thick blades of grass, and of course the palm trees bordering the buildings. We followed the path into the building and looked around for some sign of what we’re supposed to do next. I saw some people standing around a large counter filling out their tourist documentation, the same card the flight attendant gave us on the plane. I saw other people gathering around another counter. This counter reminded me of a customer service booth at the mall, with attendants in the middle, working on all sides. I went up to the counter, expecting the attendant to ask for my passport.
But she asked, “cuantas, por favor?” (How many, please?)
“Cuantas que?” (How many what?)
“Cuantas tarjetas?” (How many cards?)
The attendant was quickly growing tired of me. She just wanted to know how many tourist cards I needed, but I didn’t know we had to buy tourist cards. So when she asked me how many cards I needed, I figured I would need one for myself and one for my husband.
“Dos, por favor.” (Two please.)
“Veinte dolares.” (Twenty dollars.)
The next scene was very familiar. Even without reading the sign, I knew the next thing was to go through Customs and have the attendants stamp our passports for entry. I handed the man my passport and the tourist document from the plane. He promptly put the document in a pile, opened my passport (without even looking at it) and stamped it on one of the middle pages. (Why does it bother me that these people never use the first available space?) Then he asked me for the tourist card. He stamped it and handed it back to me. After my husband went through, we proceeded to the guard by the turnstile (clearly the only way out of that area). He held up a tourist card. We handed them over and went through the turnstile and into baggage claim. We were both amused that we paid $20 for two pieces of paper that we had in our possession for less than 2 minutes.
After collecting our bag, we went left, which looked like the way out. We saw a lot of men in uniforms standing around. One of them waved us over and asked my husband, “tienes reservaciones o vouchers? Necesitas un taxi?” My husband looks Spanish, with his dark hair and tanned skin, but he doesn’t speak any Spanish. So I asked the man for “transportacíon al hotel, Melia Caribe Tropical.” The man looked shocked that I was the one doing the talking, but I suppose that’s understandable, as I’m not the one that looks Spanish. But he seemed glad that I spoke some of his language, and he took our bag and led us over to another man, and they both walked us over to a van. (We learned later that mostly all the taxis are vans.) My husband tipped the first man a couple dollars, and he informed me that the ride would be $30. We realized that the group of men we saw were there to grab tourists and shuttle them to their taxis before another taxi service got to them.
The ride to the Melia Caribe Tropical was about 12 minutes long. The scenery was more rough, undeveloped land and a few rundown houses, a church, and a few industrial buildings. Whenever it looked like someone would pull out from a side street, the taxi driver would honk. We noticed that taxi drivers seem to have the right of way at all times. When we went through the rotary, there was already a vehicle in it, which meant that the taxi driver should have yielded to that vehicle. Well our taxi driver did not. He drove right in there, cutting off that vehicle. The driver of the other vehicle didn’t even seem to care. I really expected an angry honk or an expletive. This happened a couple more times, and then again on the way back to the airport with a different driver, so I guess it must be normal behavior.
When we arrived at the resort, bell hops swarmed us, all eager to be the one to help us out of the taxi (as if we couldn’t step out without assistance) and grab our bags. I noticed the look of disappointment on some faces when they saw we had only one bag. One bag requires the assistance of only one bell hop; the others would have to find someone else to tip them. My husband handed the taxi driver $40, mostly because we didn’t have that many singles, and we knew we’d have to tip quite a few people at the resort, but also because he got us there very quickly and passed all the slow drivers. We expected him to go slow like the other drivers on the road because we are in the Caribbean, and everything is slower (compared to what we are used to in the U.S.); it’s just the island lifestyle. The driver looked so happy that I thought he was going to cry. Later I learned that most service workers (taxi drivers and those at the resort) make about $10 a day, so that tip definitely made his day.
The lobby and reception area was one wide, open area with the roof supported by large white marble columns. There were no walls, and therefore no air conditioning. The marble floors, plush couches and gold-plated decorations gave it the five-star resort feel. In each direction you looked, there was a plant or a man-made pond with lily pads bordering the building. Past the receptionist area, the marble floors led to a sitting area and then a larger lounge and bar to the left. To the left of that was the booking area for tours, motorized water sports, golf, etc. If you went right from the first sitting area, that led out to the rest of the resort.
We left our bag with the bell hop, even though I really didn’t want to, and proceeded to the reception desk. At first no one paid any attention to us, all workers were either helping someone or on the phone, or running back and forth between the two desks and the back room. After five or six minutes, a man came over to help us. My husband gave him the paper with our confirmation number and reservation information. He took it and disappeared into the back room. A few minutes later he came out and went to the other desk, watched another man helping another guest, fooled around on the computer, and then disappeared into the back room again. At this point another man came over to help us, but we told him that the first man had our reservation information.
The second man tooled around a little with some papers and with the computer. More time passed before the first man returned and called us over to the other desk. He asked for our credit card to make a copy in case we damage something in our suite or want to charge things to our suite. He promptly disappeared into the back room again and the second man gave my husband back the credit card. A few minutes later the second man asked for our credit card again, and this time made the copy right in front of us. This made me very suspicious because I thought the first man was making a copy of it in the back room. (I am watching that account for suspicious transactions, but so far have not seen any.) The second man starting printing out our receipt and getting the room keys. He gave us a pamphlet with resort information and put brightly colored bracelets on our wrists. The Melia Caribe Tropical is an all-inclusive resort, and the bracelet is how they can tell if you are a paid guest or if you are trespassing and trying to get free food and entertainment. I asked him if we could be put in the same area as the rest of the group coming for the wedding. (I gave him the name of both the bride and the groom.) He assured me that we were all very close. I asked him if he knew where the wedding would be, but he did not. Then he went into the back room for a few minutes.
Meanwhile the first man came near us, so my husband asked him for the paper he gave him with the reservation information. We didn’t really want our information floating around the resort. The man didn’t seem to care to find it, so we told him that our return flight information was also on it and that it was imperative that he find it. He disappears for 10 minutes and returns with the paper. The second man explained to us that we needed to go to the bell hop that had our bag and give him our suite number so he could bring us our bag in a half hour or so. I did not like that plan, and I was going to just go over there and get my bag myself, but the bell hop said that since our suite was close to the lobby and receptionist area that he’d take it right then.
We followed the bell hop out of the lobby, around a sort of rotary, where he said the trolley would pick up and drop off people. He showed us the map in our pamphlet and explained how the trolley goes along the route marked in red on the map. It takes about 20 minutes for the trolley to make a complete trip, so it would always be less than 20 minutes to wait at any of the stops for the trolley. I knew then that we would never use the trolley unless it was coming at the same time we were passing by one of the stops. The resort is large, but we could walk from one end to the other in 15 minutes. Our suite was closer to the lobby and the nice restaurants, but it was just a 10 minute walk to the beach and the Turrey Stop (breakfast and lunch buffet on the beach).
On our way to our suite, we saw my friend Sarah, the bride. She was running all over the lobby area trying to find us. She had given up asking for help at the reception desk, as they kept telling her they had no record of us making reservations. It was only then that I realized how long it took them to check us in. She was expecting us an hour ago. I gave her a big hug, as I had not seen her in a little over a year, and she told us to meet at the big white gazebo, which we were actually standing right next to, after freshening up and getting settled. Dinner was in an hour.
Five minutes later we were outside our suite, number 4323. The villas were beautiful, with four suites upstairs and four downstairs. (Some of the villas in other areas of the resort had a different number of suites in each, but we reserved the deluxe junior suite, the smallest available.) We were in an upstairs suite, which we preferred. The blast of cold air when we opened our door was very much welcomed after being in the heat and humidity of the Dominican Republic in August. (The villas and restaurants are the only places with air conditioning.) The suite was quite spacious with over 400 square feet. The ample closet on the left stored extra pillows and blankets, the room safe, and ironing supplies. Straight ahead, fresh flower buds on the bathroom sink and on the towel racks welcomed us. The full bathroom was stocked with luxury soaps, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotions, and more. The rest of the suite was like a studio apartment, with a small dresser on either side of the king size bed. A decorative orange throw covered the foot of the bed and accented the white bedspread and pillows. On the wall opposite the bed stood a hutch, which housed the TV on top and the mini fridge underneath. The fridge was stocked with bottled water, 7 Up, Pepsi, and some strawberry passion fruit juice. On top of the fridge, two upside down mugs rested beside the coffeemaker. An orange couch occupied the far right corner of the room. I put my bags down on the orange lounge chair across from the couch and stepped onto the balcony. I really couldn’t see anything besides the tree that was hanging over the balcony, but everyone likes balconies, right?
We tipped the bell hop and sent him on his way back to the craziness that is the hotel lobby. When we went to the gazebo to meet our friends, the first thing Sarah’s mom asked us was how long it took to check in. We guessed about 45 minutes, once someone started to help us (which is ridiculous by American standards). She said we were lucky because it took them two and a half hours to check in their party of 15. I was quite annoyed when she told me that most of their rooms are in the 3000s, while Sarah and Matthew’s suite is in the 2000s. Why did I believe the man at the reception desk when he told me that we were all in the same area? But after a few days there, I decided that I liked having our suite closer to the gazebo, lobby, and restaurants. We spent more time in those areas than at the beach since it was so hot.
Be sure to read my future posts for more about our experience, the resort, and what to expect when leaving the Dominican Republic.
