Jul 03, 2006
Jul 07, 2006
The arrival hall is completely open-air with thatch roofs, very quaint, but killer in the humidity. We disembarked from the plane into blinding sunlight and walked quickly towards the buildings looking for the first spot of shade. Music (bongo, accordion and maracas) greeted us with island rhythms as we entered. Which was when we discovered the LONG queues for immigration. Hot, hot and sticky. After clearing immigration, we passed by the actual three musicians. Not much to crow about, I'm afraid. Then we fell upon the task of finding our transport, or at least someone holding up a sign with the name of our travel agency on it. No such luck. A man came (yep, two lost Asians really do STAND OUT GREATLY in Punta Cana and there's no need to stamp "tourists" on our foreheads) and pointed us to the right desk. Our driver came and led us out to his van, which was parked alongside at least fifty other such vans in the parking lot out back.