motoconchos, aiee!

I feel it's time to discuss the motoconcho.

Before I arrived here I was under the impression that a motoconcho was a rickshaw-like contraption, a motorbike pulling a cart of sorts. Well, maybe that's what motoconchos are in other parts of the Dominican. But here they're just motorbikes, period.
On our first day, we were walking down our little jungle alleyway, when somebody from our camp came down on a motorbike and offered us a ride to the main road.
'Er, what do you mean? Me? or... ?'
'No, both of you of course.'
'On that?'
'Well, it's a hell of a lot bigger than any motoconcho you're going to catch.'

It was a rocky, bumpy, insane ride. My companion fell off going through a creek. (He wasn't hurt.) He got back on. My eyes were squeezed shut and I believed the driver to be crazy. It was sheer lunacy.
But sure enough, at the main road, Eddie, the first motoconcho to offer his services, indicated that we should both get on the back of his bike. 10 minutes later, we were in the heart of Las Terrenas, stunned speechless from the shock of our swift and harrowing descent from the hills. It was Culture Shock Supremo.

The roads in town are narrow and rough, and swarming with motorbikes, scooters, ATVs (mostly driven by rich Gringos), and very occasionally, a truck or two. Motorbikes are the essential mode of transportation, and it seems that any dude who owns one is on the lookout for a fare. In many ways, this is fantastic, because anytime, anywhere, you can just nod at a passing concho to get a ride. It usually costs about $3, and you can tell the driver to pick you up again at an appointed time. It's a great system.... except for the fact that helmets don't exist here.

We insisted on having a concho each after that first perilous ride, but even so, the first few days' worth of motoconcho-ing were pretty well terrifying, until I learned the magic phrase:
"LENTO, por favor!"
Ahhhh. Slow and steady like a motorized turtle. The only way to see the Dominican Republic!

More notes on the concho:
1. My companion, J, and I have noticed that we experience different levels of service from these conchos. I get on the bike, say "Cien," they say, "OK," and when we arrive I pay the agreed amount (Cien = 100 pesos) and all is well. Then again, I'm a female. The male experience, according to J, is to arrive, pay agreed amount, and then be argued with. Every time he rides, his driver tries to haggle more money out of him. When I ride, I get treated to tour-guide commentary, attentive service ("Muy muy lento - bueno?"), invitations to merengue nights, once even a gallant peck on each cheek. A decidedly different experience from taking taxis back home.
2. Conchos are not just for tourists. Elderly ladies in Sunday best, sitting side-saddle with ankles crossed; whole families complete with small dog; mothers with tiny infants... all ride the motoconcho!
3. When motoconchos aren't driving fares around, their bikes seem to be put to use for transportation of all kinds of things. The back seat might be occupied by a big tank of propane, or an enormous cooler of beer, or a friend carrying an armful of long 2x4's - or, insanely, balancing a full-sized door on his head. Wonders to behold!

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