Nearby Natural Beauty And Unexpected Adventure in Las Terrenas, Santo Domingo
The annual fam jam set amongst the Dominican Republic's incredible beaches, lush green hills, towering palms and adventure of the quad, horseback and zip line variety.
Every year, the entire Italian famiglia goes on an adventure together. We’ve gone as far as the Maldives and stayed as near as Miami. As a counterbalance to last year’s ski trip in Cervinia, the Italian side of the Matterhorn, this year’s adventure was of the tropical variety. We packed up the littles to meet their six cugini in Las Terrenas, Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic.
While Punta Cana remains the stomping grounds of many a tourist and home to countless resorts, Las Terrenas has natural beauty that easily surpasses it. Some describe it as akin to what Tulum used to be. This description has lost meaning for me as I’ve heard it applied to every beachside town that doesn’t yet have a Nobu. I do get the comparison though. It’s a happy place set on beautiful beaches where the potential for gypset gallivanting can be seen in the boho chic atmosphere of places like the Mosquito Boutique Hotel. There’s ample outdoor adventure if you’re up for it. Or alternatively, you can just laze around in the comfort of your tropical vacay, soaking up the sun damage. Given we call Miami home though, hours spent lazing on the beach carries less appeal than it does for most so we’re always ready for the adventure options.
The flight from Miami is around two hours making it an easy enough trip with littles. Curbside check in couldn’t manage to check Gabri in for whatever reason which left us running, escorted, to catch our flight but it’s not a real adventure without a little stress infused is it?
Once you land in Santo Domingo, it’s a two hour drive to Las Terrenas. Renting a car in advance is recommended but despite having done our due diligence, retrieving our rental was an adventure in and of itself. First, there was the changing of the guard when we arrived so we had to wait for the next employee’s shift to begin. The next employee spoke at such a low volume that it was like the girl from Pitch Perfect versus the screaming Italian. In Gabri’s defense, he asked her politely to up the volume at least six times before his volume went to max. Then they tried to charge us somewhere around $400 more than we signed up for, told us they had to check if there was a baby seat (which we’d reserved months in advance), and informed us that the car would be ready in 1.5 hours (we later learned that in Dominican time, that would equate to around 13.5 hours). We’d run out of snacks so basically, mayhem was settling in. After some Italian profanity and my sinking down in my chair to hide behind our luggage, a move I’m rather familiar with, we impulsively rented a car from another company and in five minutes, we were off.
Replacement car and baby seat in tow, we ventured on a beautiful road to our villa tucked into the hills of Las Terrenas. The path to paradise winds and curves through lush green cliff-sides into open plains lined with palms and horses. At times, the drive was somewhat terrifying given all the negligent motorcyclists and the Italian behind the wheel who drives a car just as he’d drive a Vespa in Roma. But we clung to the curves and, after two hours in the car, we opened the sliding doors to our famiglia and our tropical haven.
Our villa was situated on beautiful Playa Coson and had the perfect set up for our family of 16. All of us close together, but also comfortably apart. Critical to not killing one another was the most delightful maid and for extra comfort, the chef. As a chef, it has to be a little intimidating when 15+ Italians descend upon you. Lots of standards. Lots of opinions. Then throw in a million dietary restrictions on account of those 15+ celebrating Passover and you have a disaster on your hands. But Chef Rodrigo was very sweet and while he wasn’t celebrated for his culinary prowess, he made it through the experience alive and with at least my affection.
One of my fondest memories of the adventure, because I’m slightly demented, was when after hours spent playing in the pool, we suddenly realized the raft the kids were gleefully riding back and forth was actually a giant pink penis. I imagine it was leftover from what must have been a bachelorette (or bachelor - you never know) crew staying at the villa before us. Whatever the case, this had me buckled over in laughter.
After the pink penis riding concluded, we ventured out the door to Playa Coson which surprised us with its beauty. We weren’t expecting it to be spectacular simply because it was so convenient but it was. It’s sort of a crescent shape with what feels, at it edges, like a Jurassic palm-fringed park with towering palms and carpets of green. We set up shop on the shore and dove into the water. Suddenly, we heard an Italian producer on a loud speaker directing what looked like a scene from Love Island. I’ve learned in my travels around the world that Italians are EVERYWHERE. Whether it’s the huge population on Miami Beach or the fact that the only other 10 people we found on our Madagascar honeymoon were Italian, they seem to make their way to every corner of the Earth. If nothing else, this makes having learned Italian more useful than I ever thought it would be.
In any case, we watched the staged, cheesy romantic bikini-clad encounters unfold for a while, splashed around in the water and then made our way back to the villa for our Dominican Passover Seder.
With the recommendations of multiple friends, we spent a day visiting Cayo Levantado, a beautiful little island you arrive to by boat from Samanà. It sits on clear turquoise waters with rocks protruding from the surface in a way that made the setting feel less like the Caribbean and more like somewhere in Greece. We had lunch just up from the beach which was mediocre and seemed fine at the time but either that meal or the ice we quickly dumped out of our Piña Coladas triggered unpleasantries of the bowel variety for myself and three others. It wasn’t until later that night that the violence began so at least the day was enjoyed, Piñas and Cocos in hand.
We caught quite a few overcast days that brought sporadic downpours during our eight days in Las Terrenas. But we carried on unbothered thanks to the many adventures we were able to take the kids on. One such adventure was on horseback. This was the first lesson in the Dominican assessment of time. What we were told was a 20 minute ride on which I was encouraged to bring my one year old ended up clocking in at three hours only half way through. I will say it was a beautiful experience, all of these little lit up faces enjoying their wild surroundings on these wild creatures as we made our way from jungle to beach. But I was cold sweating from my ongoing stomach cramps and Nala, while content to be adventuring, was sort of slumping over in what I imagine was dehydration as we were told to leave the bags (with water and sunscreen inside them) behind. As my horse decided to up its meandering pace to a trot, I began to question my own parenting and life choices and waved down a passing quad. I think they saw in my eyes that I wasn’t going to take no for an answer and I hopped off my horse, thanked it for the ride and rode Nala and the other three littlest on the quad to safety before bowing out during intermission before the second half.
I enjoyed my first solo shower of the trip while Nala napped and then the rest of the crew went on a slippery ride up to the El Limón waterfall where the bigs carried the littles across a rambling river and through the rain and everyone came home contentedly destroyed. While I don’t suffer from the TOMO (terror of missing out) I’ve diagnosed Gabri with, I am prone to some FOMO but I was assured I’d done the right thing concerning Nala.
Because one epic adventure wasn’t enough, we decided to spend the next day on a quad adventure, babies in tow. Little eight month old cousin Gigi fell asleep immediately while overly curious Nalita was fighting off yawns as she reared her head left and right to take in all the action. We road through the city, through a jungly path and onto the beach. From what I gathered, we weren’t supposed to be beach bound because our fantastic albeit caution-less tour guide for the week, Daniel of Paradise Tours, seemed to have some call system worked out where he rode his motorcycle ahead of us to scope out the presence of any authorities and then gave us the go ahead until he finally veered us away and back onto the jungly path. I was satisfied with this beach quad adventure but it wasn’t over yet.
We headed to a ravine where we road a trail on its edges that would have normally been bumpy fun but no one, guides included, had anticipated the result of the rain. We quickly got stuck and I tried to escape with Nalita but they encouraged us to stay aboard so as not to get dirty. What happened next was a full on, head to toe mud bath as they revved the engine and the wheels spun up all of the wet earth. I raised Nalita into the air like a little lion cub (very apropos given her name) to spare her of the shock. And after all that, it didn’t work. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice wasn’t gonna happen. So I not-so-quickly escaped as my Haviana sandal got sucked into the mud and I ripped out the thong part trying to set it free. Once Nala and I were free, we watched in sympathetic laughter as her cousins fell victim to the same sort of mud bath before the whole group eventually made our way out to dryer pastures. We cleaned ourselves at the natural pool fed by the waterfall where you can find locals picnicking, even bathing with self-supplied soap.
With everyone ready for a little R&R after back to back adventure days, we spent a sort of wet day at the earlier mentioned Mosquito Boutique Hotel situated on Playa Bonita (very bonita). Even with coming and going rain and grey skies, I loved this little gem. It had the right mix of cultivated boho-esque ambiance, a great DJ, good food from the looks of it and you could tell that on a nice day, the color of the water would have been magnificent. I spent the day chasing Nala from the hammock up the beach where I was foolishly trying to get her to nap (not a on-the-go napping kind of baby) to the ocean where she was ready to dive headfirst into the crashing waves. Gabri set up a classic beach game where you make a figure eight in the sand and flick your little plastic ball along the path with each turn to try and get it to go furthest. To me, the fact that the Italian elders and youngsters of the fam were all familiar with this innocent kind of classic fun speaks to the purity of screen-less fun still existent in Italian childhood. We ‘Mericans could learn a thing or two.
For a final adventure, we drove an hour and forty minutes to Samaná Zip Line where we split into two groups and headed off to an incredible zip line course which felt similar to what I found in Costa Rica. Except I’m not sure three year olds are allowed to partake anywhere else. In Samaná though, one of the employees actually implied I could take Nala if I wanted. I fought back to the urge to explain to him the reality that she would slip right through the harness and that they’re out of their minds and my trust of judgment had already galloped away with the horseback experience and instead, I simply smiled and placed Nala firmly in Nonna’s hands to wait for my return.
Dani and I were in the first group and when we arrived, following a 30 minute steep uphill hike, I nearly pooped my pants. Not because of the ongoing stomach issues. Those were still very present but it was more the initial impact of the vast jungle below some very high heights. The guide asked who’d like to go first and I was relieved when Dani yelled, along with the chorus,”not me!”. Shockingly, little cousin Kai eagerly volunteered which had mom Audelie silently mustering the courage to match her three year olds’. Emboldened with new bravado by way of Kai, Dani and I were up next and with him clinging to me like a little monkey, we swung into the open expanse and his giggles filled my fast-pumping heart with joy. And then we did it 12 more times. It was awesome.
As we made our way back, we jumped from stone to stone and over a rickety bridge and together made the decision that it felt like a video game entitled “15 Ways To Break Nonna”. Once back to group two, we convinced Nonna Partrizia that if she wanted to walk her soon-to-marry daughter Michelle down the aisle in a month, she’d better stay put. She obliged and off went Gabri, Zio Manu and Rafa, hand in hand. For some reason, my eyes welled up with a couple tender tears at the sight of my little giant off to adventure.
On our last day, among the only sunny ones, we contemplated venturing to Playa Rincón having heard it’s likely the most beautiful beach in the area. We were flying out that evening though and already pressed for time so we stayed local and revisited Playa Coson. The FOMO in me flared up when I recently read that Conde Nast ranked Playa Rincón one of the top ten most beautiful beaches in the world. Though, having adored our adventure to Las Terrenas, I have no doubt we’ll return, maybe even next year. So I’m comforted by the thought we’ll have the chance to check Playa Rincón off the Samaná bucket list.
Even with little sleep (grazie Nalita), a good amount of rain and some seriously unsettled stomachs, Las Terrenas has made its way onto our list of favorite famiglia adventures. The fact that so much natural beauty and true adventure is waiting just a couple hours away was an unexpected delight.
I read recently that you, as a parent, are your child’s childhood. And that sentiment alone makes every travel challenge, plane ride diaper disaster and night of interrupted sleep pale in comparison to the memories trips like these contribute to the childhoods of my three little loves. And so, we venture on.
Until next time Las Terrenas, te amamos…adios!
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Fabulous🥰
My next family beach trip needs to be here! Beautiful and SO much FUN!