About two-thirds of travelers to the Dominican Republic land in the city of Punta Cana, where they are shuttled comfortably from the airport to lush resorts with gorgeous beaches and then back to the airport.
Far fewer travelers end up like I did last February, in the back row of a bouncy bus on a two-and-a-half-hour trip north from Santo Domingo, the country’s capital, to the Samaná Peninsula.
The Samaná Peninsula sticks out from the Dominican Republic like a knobby finger pointing toward Puerto Rico. Even though the narrow peninsula is only 10 miles wide in some places, it abounds with natural offerings like whale-filled bays, waterfalls and secluded, beautiful beaches.
But one particular destination had lured me to the peninsula: Las Terrenas, a beach town on Samaná’s north shore. A 2023 article in Vogue called Las Terrenas “what Tulum was like 15 years ago,” praising its “soft sandy beaches,” “low-key nightlife” and “gritty charm.” When I told a friend who lives in the Dominican Republic where I was headed, she validated my choice, saying, “Las Terrenas is the promised land.”
As the bus climbed the green mountains toward Las Terrenas, it passed an overlook with a panoramic view of palm-dotted beaches and blue waters, sending a thrill through me. For the next 20 minutes, I was clinging to the seat in front of me like a kid on a field trip.
From the Sea Into My Bowl
The next morning, I rented a moped ($50 a day) to explore some beaches on the other side of town from the Costarena Beach Hotel, the basic but friendly place where I was staying (about 8,200 pesos, or $150, a night). But even as an experienced moped driver, I found navigating the traffic, the construction, the one-way streets and the occasional darting dog — was all this the “gritty charm” I had read about? — to be a bigger challenge than I had bargained for. I was ready for a ceviche break.
The hotel’s front desk clerk advised me that I could find some of the town’s best food in a central area with no address, “between the cemetery and the beach.” The latter side seemed more appealing, so I picked a plastic table in the sand at Zu Ceviche & Grill, in the shade of a palm tree and beside a cluster of colorful wooden fishing boats. I ordered the fish ceviche (790 pesos) and leaned back to admire the view when I noticed my waiter jogging away down the beach. A bit concerned, I stood up to see where he was going.
Not far away, a group of shirtless fishermen were chopping and descaling their catch around a table. When my waiter jogged back, he was holding a fish by its tail; my ceviche was fresh as could be.
Just down the beach from the restaurant, a row of waterfront fishing huts called Pueblo de los Pescadores had long been at the heart of local nightlife, offering D.J.s and sunset views, until a fire in 2021. The area, rebuilt with little pastel-colored restaurants, reopened in February.
From this central area, the beaches extend in long lines to the west and east. Though they all have distinctive names, they mostly run into one another without any visible boundaries, essentially blurring into one long beach.
Closer to downtown, the beaches were mostly tarnished by litter and construction debris. Seeking more pristine sand, I drove east on a road called 27 de Febrero, which runs along the ocean, with restaurants on the inland side and a walking path weaving through palms on the ocean side. The farther out I rode, the more beautiful the beaches were.
About 10 minutes from town, I pulled into a clearing in the trees and parked with a few other mopeds. Then I stepped out onto the paradisiacal Playa Carolina, where a clear, shallow stream emptied into the ocean and children splashed around.
Later, when I explored the string of beaches west of Las Terrenas, I was delighted to find beach clubs offering chairs, umbrellas and lunch. The standout club by far was Mosquito Boutique Hotel at Playa Bonita, about 15 minutes from downtown, where there was an appealing surf break, a large restaurant and a sunset D.J. (rooms from 7,130 pesos, often with a two-night minimum).
With so many beautiful beaches and so many different names — was this one Playa Bonita or Playa Escondida? — I found it hard to choose a favorite. I decided it was probably whichever beach I happened to be on at the moment.
European Vibes, and Prices
During the rule of the dictator Rafael Trujillo, from 1930 to 1961, many of the poorest residents of Santo Domingo resettled along the then-wild, sparsely populated north shore of the Samaná Peninsula. The area remained a remote outpost for decades, and didn’t get electricity until 1994.
Foreign visitors began to arrive in Las Terrenas in the 1960s, and an influx of expatriates, especially the French, built rustic vacation homes in the area. Today, the European influence in the area is omnipresent, and in the shops targeted toward tourists, the prices are breathtakingly high. Last summer while in Italy, I bought a linen dress with a distinctive print for about $50. In Las Terrenas, I saw the same dress for $400.
Visitors who want to experience Las Terrenas at this luxury level can rent a vacation home with a lawn and a pool, shop in the European-style stores and dine at upscale restaurants. I dipped my pinkie toe in this lifestyle, with a stop for a Coco Loco mocktail (coconut cream, lime, milk; 350 pesos) at Porto by Mosquito, a chic seaside restaurant with tropical, “White Lotus”-esque décor and a popular brunch. And I had my best dinner at El Lugar, where diners devoured sizzling platters of steaks covered in charred herbs (1,890 pesos) on an upper patio with a sunset ocean view.
One benefit of the strong European influence, even for budget travelers: A number of quality cafes offered croissants and cappuccinos, including La Paneria Italian Bakery and Boulangerie Française.
A Bumpy Path to Treasure
A rainy day ruined my plan to visit the usually crystalline, swimmable El Limón waterfall about 13 miles from town. So instead, I put on a rain poncho and hopped on my moped to do some more exploration of the beaches west of town. The road rolled up and down the hills, testing my driving skills, until settling into a flat run. I was looking for a spot to get lunch on the beach, when I spotted a scrawled sign that read “Chef Medina.” Not sure what I would find, I turned onto a bumpy, muddy path.
It led me to a wooden shack at the edge of the jungle with strings of shells for curtains. A large man jumped out of his chair as I pulled up. It was Chef Medina himself, and he, his wife and his daughter ran the tiny restaurant. They set up a table for me in the sand, then moved it a couple of feet to make sure I wouldn’t get bonked by one of the coconuts from the palm above. I was the only customer, but that was fine with me. For 880 pesos, Chef Medina cooked me delicious fresh lobster and frito verde, or fried plantains.
As his daughter was clearing my plates, I asked what beach we were on. “I think Playa Cosón?” she answered in Spanish, before shouting back to her mom to ask. Then, as if she were reading my mind, she said something that echoed my own experience in Las Terrenas: “I’m not really sure which beach is which. I just know this one is my favorite.”
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