Waiting for the GuaGua: Sept. 11, 2006

It's a litlle after 10 in the morning as we lean, backs up against our backpacks, journals out, on a side street in the town of Jarbacoa, waiting for the guagua to depart for La Ciénaga where we will spend two to three days climbing the mountain, Pico Duarte. We drain the reminents of our overly sweet coffee in the plastic cups quickly hoping that the toxins won't leech into our system if we can finish the coffee before it cools. Seems no one has told Domincans that hot beverages and plastic don't go well together. The shoe shine guy next to us has finished polishing yet another patrons shoes. . . that is one thing that can be said for people in the D.R. - very polished shoes. Shoe shine guys are a dime a dozen. The pastry cart owner is working slowly through her line of people, oblivious to the lively scenen in the street in front of us: motoconchos (moto-taxis), maneuver to avoid cars, trucks, chickens and pedestriants. Three to a moto, moto with a bedframe, a man on horseback and the pick up in front of us, supposedly our future transport, the "guagua."

"Guaguas," a popular mode of public transport, usually consist of some sort of van, similar to a Dodge caravan meant to hold about 10 or 11 people. But really, why only take 10 or 11 people when really 16 or 17 can easily fit, legs and arms every which way? Three to four people up front, followed by, no less than, four per row after that.

The real beauty of the guagua is that it's extremely cheap and mostly convenient in nature. For under U.S. $3, you can travel hundreds of miles to exactly where you want to go. Don't get out just because you are within blocks of your stop. The guagua will stop again, just blocks from its previous stop for no additional charge. Simply yell, "Aquí, en frente del banco." or "Allá a lado de la casa de María" and the guagua driver will know where to leave you.

Of course the flip side is indeed comfort. Not to say that being jammed like a sardine into a vehicle meant for a third the amount of people inside with no seatbelt and no way of ensuring the guagua driver's capabilities doesn't have its merit. Oh the thrill of the adventure alone is worth the ride.

So we sit on the side of the road, waiting for the guagua to be filled. The guagua does not leave until it seems like it is no longer humanly possibly to squeeze one more person, burlap sack, gas container or block of salt inside. This guagua will prove to be an interesting ride I am sure. The pick up, a double cab toyota, is different than the other vans we have been inside and I can't help but have the sinking suspicion that we will be riding in the back.