The Other Side of Luperon

North, the Harbor

I’ve repeatedly mentioned what’s wrong with this place; the dirt, the inordinate number of thieves and hookers along with the unimaginably filthy harbor. However, an atypical sense of fairness compels me to point out what’s right.

West, the Town of Luperon

The surroundings are whimsically pretty.  A short stroll up the hill presents postcard vistas. A look back down on the town is like gazing at Xanadu. And the locals are the friendliest I’ve found anywhere in the DR. Passersby always receive a kind “hola” or “buenas tardes”. Or even an “Adios”, a.k.a. “Go with God”. 

South, the Cordillera Central

The countryside is amazing. Lush tropical foliage cloaks the distant mountains in a patchwork of green. Every conceivable crop grows in the fruitful valleys. Cattle and goats graze contentedly in the fertile fields dappled with palms. Fisherman ply their wooden yolas past the broad beaches that stretch over the horizon. Innumerable rivers and waterfalls dot the landscape. All are kept contentedly cool by the gentle trade winds.

East towards Puerto Plata

Life here is a staggeringly inexpensive existence. A good meal costs $3. Fresh fish sells for pennies a pound. If you have an eye for the opposite sex, thousands of potential partners await the opportunity to demonstrate their talents. Put bluntly, you can get your pole greased here in every way, shape and form until the cows come home for the price of a load of laundry.

Regarding Luperon‘s ills, the dirt that coats everything from your dinner to your  dinghy is largely from the streets having been dug up to lay pipe. Eventually the heavy machinery will leave and the roads will be repaved. As for the thieves and prostitutes, this is a port town. And the harbor, which is the only reason we’re here, offers the best hurricane protection in the Caribbean. If we have to deal with its stench to keep our boat afloat, so be it.

"Luppy"

It’s no secret that I am not happy here. I was reminded of why on my way back down from taking these pictures. Stretched out on the sidewalk was little “Luppy” (the unofficial town mascot) completely shagged out. I sadly shook my head as I tip-toed by. I imagine he will be his old self again soon. When I stroll past Waly’s this weekend, I expect to see him perched on one of the tables chatting with the whores while hustling passing gringos for beers and little bits of cheese.