Hola Amigos,
So here it is. The long awaited newest edition of what the Scrabblebiker is up to these days ...aside from being full of herself and not realizing that most of the world doesn't know, nor cares, what a Scrabblebiker is anyway.
If you're looking for pictures, I won't be posting them here to cut down on online time. My blog at www.scrabblebiker.com is the place to go for that. Be patient as it slowly gets updated between bottles of Presidente and Barcelo rum.
Day 2 and 3 (day one has no DR content and I won't bore you with it)
I made it to Santiago safe and sound, accompanied by a round of applause and loud cheers by the other passengers. I'm doing this a bit in a luxury way and my pre-arranged cab driver was waiting for me with a sign. It was a pleasant drive through the mountains on a winding road through village after village. Cesar, the driver was a breath of fresh air. He was very cautious and professional on the road and never got my blood pressure up beyond its' normal high level.
I'm now sitting at the Cabarerete Surf Camp "Hostel", having a massive Presidente. It's amazingly relaxing and tears are welling up in my eyes realizing how stressed I really had been so far.
I finally scored myself a ride. Josef at Easy-Rider Cabarete let me try out a couple of bikes by just handing me the keys for a spin. No deposit, nothing. I suppose that's another benefit of being a middle aged female, or maybe he knows that a tourist probably won't get very far on a stolen bike on an island. I hadn't ridden a bike without a helmet since the US southwest in 2010. It was liberating, exhilarating, annoying and scary all at the same time.
So here's how it went. I took out an Indian made RTR road bike and loved it. When I parked I realized I was too close to the bike to my left. No matter how much experience I have, it never ceases to amaze me how I ignore my own advice and how often I do stupid things. Instead of repositioning the bike I decided to dismount to the right. A short sizzle against my bare leg made me realize that I sometimes leave my judgement at home. But, a little second degree burn didn't stop me from taking out a DT125, which I also loved. Not being able to make up my mind I went for a walk and a cuba libre by the beach to weigh the pros and cons, the second degree burn could wait. That's when I realized that the off road machine is the way to go.
My right leg still stinging from the burn, I informed Josef of my decision and he asked me to come back in 45 minutes. This was perfect since I needed to go to a pharmacy for my burn anyway. The Pharmacy was closed but I remembered seeing an urgent care centre earlier in the day. After all, why the heck would I spend money on travel insurance and then not use it? besides, this is the tropics and infections do happen.
As soon as I told the clinic staff that I burnt my leg they all smiled and chuckled and asked "moto?". They cheerfully informed me that this was called a Dominican tattoo. I couldn't help but laugh. The clinic was clean and modern and the young Senora Doctora took good care of me and sent me on my way with a bag full of medications, bandages, salves and instructions. My request for a Barcelo pain killer was denied. But she did pump me full of antibiotics.
Back to Easy Rider Cabarete to pick up the bike. I was ready to put up an argument for not leaving my passport or first born behind as collateral. Josef just wanted a photocopy of my passport, which I carry around anyway, and he had no interest in the laminated colour copy of my driver's licence. Then I counted out a stack of Pesos to pay for the rental and that was it ...aside from telling me at least three times how to make a proper left turn in the DR. Better safe than sorry.
As if that wasn't funny enough. I took the bike for a spin, with my own helmet from home this time, and it sputtered to a stop just east of Cabarete. I was cursing Josef for not telling me that the tank was empty. Well, he probably did and I wasn't paying attention. A nice shopkeeper pointed me to a nearby gas station and I pushed the bike for a fillup. The attendant and a few other moto riders had a good chuckle while explaining that the bike has a reserve and all I had to do was switch it over. It made me laugh since I actually should know this. But habit is a strange creature, one which only remembered how my own bike functions.
Off I roared to the east and the bike once more sputtered to a complete stop. After a few attempts I managed to start her up again, with a cloud of white smoke. I was now quite concerned that I might end up stranded somewhere on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere if this bike turns out to be unreliable. I made it back to Cabarete and explained my predicament to Josef and his assistant Pedro. They seemed partly amused and partly annoyed and concerned. How was I to know that I wasn't supposed to keep the thing at full throttle all the way?? This is the beauty of life, never a day goes by where I don't learn something new. Two stroke motorcycles are new to me.
I decided to pop into Jose O'Shea's to see if I could run into Frank. He's a busy man trying to run the place but he made sure to take the time to give me some advice, between chatting up the cute chicks across from me and serving other customers. Heck! I would have preferred talking to the young girls myself given the choice between them and some middle aged lesbian
Cabarete Beach is absolutely lovely and Cabarete itself just isn't for me. The sooner I can get out of here, the better. The armed security guard at the Cabarete Surf Camp insisted that I couldn't take the bike into the compound, and he wouldn't loan me his pistol either ...sheesh!
So here it is. The long awaited newest edition of what the Scrabblebiker is up to these days ...aside from being full of herself and not realizing that most of the world doesn't know, nor cares, what a Scrabblebiker is anyway.
If you're looking for pictures, I won't be posting them here to cut down on online time. My blog at www.scrabblebiker.com is the place to go for that. Be patient as it slowly gets updated between bottles of Presidente and Barcelo rum.
Day 2 and 3 (day one has no DR content and I won't bore you with it)
I made it to Santiago safe and sound, accompanied by a round of applause and loud cheers by the other passengers. I'm doing this a bit in a luxury way and my pre-arranged cab driver was waiting for me with a sign. It was a pleasant drive through the mountains on a winding road through village after village. Cesar, the driver was a breath of fresh air. He was very cautious and professional on the road and never got my blood pressure up beyond its' normal high level.
I'm now sitting at the Cabarerete Surf Camp "Hostel", having a massive Presidente. It's amazingly relaxing and tears are welling up in my eyes realizing how stressed I really had been so far.
I finally scored myself a ride. Josef at Easy-Rider Cabarete let me try out a couple of bikes by just handing me the keys for a spin. No deposit, nothing. I suppose that's another benefit of being a middle aged female, or maybe he knows that a tourist probably won't get very far on a stolen bike on an island. I hadn't ridden a bike without a helmet since the US southwest in 2010. It was liberating, exhilarating, annoying and scary all at the same time.
So here's how it went. I took out an Indian made RTR road bike and loved it. When I parked I realized I was too close to the bike to my left. No matter how much experience I have, it never ceases to amaze me how I ignore my own advice and how often I do stupid things. Instead of repositioning the bike I decided to dismount to the right. A short sizzle against my bare leg made me realize that I sometimes leave my judgement at home. But, a little second degree burn didn't stop me from taking out a DT125, which I also loved. Not being able to make up my mind I went for a walk and a cuba libre by the beach to weigh the pros and cons, the second degree burn could wait. That's when I realized that the off road machine is the way to go.
My right leg still stinging from the burn, I informed Josef of my decision and he asked me to come back in 45 minutes. This was perfect since I needed to go to a pharmacy for my burn anyway. The Pharmacy was closed but I remembered seeing an urgent care centre earlier in the day. After all, why the heck would I spend money on travel insurance and then not use it? besides, this is the tropics and infections do happen.
As soon as I told the clinic staff that I burnt my leg they all smiled and chuckled and asked "moto?". They cheerfully informed me that this was called a Dominican tattoo. I couldn't help but laugh. The clinic was clean and modern and the young Senora Doctora took good care of me and sent me on my way with a bag full of medications, bandages, salves and instructions. My request for a Barcelo pain killer was denied. But she did pump me full of antibiotics.
Back to Easy Rider Cabarete to pick up the bike. I was ready to put up an argument for not leaving my passport or first born behind as collateral. Josef just wanted a photocopy of my passport, which I carry around anyway, and he had no interest in the laminated colour copy of my driver's licence. Then I counted out a stack of Pesos to pay for the rental and that was it ...aside from telling me at least three times how to make a proper left turn in the DR. Better safe than sorry.
As if that wasn't funny enough. I took the bike for a spin, with my own helmet from home this time, and it sputtered to a stop just east of Cabarete. I was cursing Josef for not telling me that the tank was empty. Well, he probably did and I wasn't paying attention. A nice shopkeeper pointed me to a nearby gas station and I pushed the bike for a fillup. The attendant and a few other moto riders had a good chuckle while explaining that the bike has a reserve and all I had to do was switch it over. It made me laugh since I actually should know this. But habit is a strange creature, one which only remembered how my own bike functions.
Off I roared to the east and the bike once more sputtered to a complete stop. After a few attempts I managed to start her up again, with a cloud of white smoke. I was now quite concerned that I might end up stranded somewhere on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere if this bike turns out to be unreliable. I made it back to Cabarete and explained my predicament to Josef and his assistant Pedro. They seemed partly amused and partly annoyed and concerned. How was I to know that I wasn't supposed to keep the thing at full throttle all the way?? This is the beauty of life, never a day goes by where I don't learn something new. Two stroke motorcycles are new to me.
I decided to pop into Jose O'Shea's to see if I could run into Frank. He's a busy man trying to run the place but he made sure to take the time to give me some advice, between chatting up the cute chicks across from me and serving other customers. Heck! I would have preferred talking to the young girls myself given the choice between them and some middle aged lesbian
Cabarete Beach is absolutely lovely and Cabarete itself just isn't for me. The sooner I can get out of here, the better. The armed security guard at the Cabarete Surf Camp insisted that I couldn't take the bike into the compound, and he wouldn't loan me his pistol either ...sheesh!
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