OVERSEAS BRIEFING

Author: SONJA PEDERSEN-GREEN

DOMINICAN REPUBLIC - Transportation in the Dominican Republic is a study in successful anarchy. There really is no transportation authority and there certainly are no schedules, yet somehow people manage to get where they need to go. They somehow get there relatively promptly, though Dominicans equate promptness as arriving within an hour of when they agreed to meet, which makes their definition slightly different than the North American definition of promptness.

I'm still confused why everyone here arrives as chronically late as they do because Dominicans drive at breakneck speeds and often ignore stop lights or stop signs. They simply honk their horns as they approach an intersection to alert other cars around that they're running the signals. For my first month in Santo Domingo, I actually thought that a red light must mean "go," or at least something quite different than it does in the United States.

Another problem compounding Dominican driving is the absence of drunk driving or open bottle laws. It's common to see someone slaking their thirst with a Presidente early on a sultry afternoon while behind the wheel of a beat up compact. Most Dominicans insist they know how to drive while intoxicated and claim the DR actually sees fewer accidents in most other countries.

The basic form of public transportation are the carro publicos, which are in indescript Japanese models from the early 70s. They usually have no windows, no interior upholstery, and when I rode in one, I had to close the door with a paper clip. These indescribably small cars manage to fit six passengers and a driver. The second transportation form is the guaguas. These are small busses, and like the carro publicos, are owned by an individual rather than a company or the government. Finally, there are also guaguitas, which are more or less about the size of a large minivan. Yesterday a van somehow managed to accommodate 32 passengers. These busses are usually in disreputable states of repair. The other day, I rode one dragging its muffler down the road.

In these first three forms of transport, there are no official stops, and instead people simply yell "dejame," or "leave me," when they want to get off. This usually results in the guagua stopping every block or so because most Dominicans are convinced walking is a waste of time. In all honesty, it's too steaming hot to walk anywhere.

The final form of public transportation - and by far the most comfortable - are OMSAs. These government-run buses, although they would probably be considered to be on the lower end of U.S. bus quality scale, are a haven of tranquillity and cleanliness here in Santo Domingo. In addition to the occasional air conditioning, OSMAs also have designated stops. As a result they are far less popular with Dominicans. Apparently for the first few years after their inception, Dominicans just plain wouldn't take them. They couldn't grasp the concept of not being able to get off wherever or whenever they wanted. They only became popular after the country's president himself abandoned his limo for an OMSA to work every morning.

Learning to master transportation in the Dominican Republic has been both a difficult and fascinating experience. There really is no better way to get to know the people and the customs than to be literally sitting nearly on top of them. I guarantee that after this experience, I will no longer silently curse that bus, subway, plane or train in the United States when it's running a few minutes late.