The Dominican Republic in Words

Hola amigos! Como esta ustedes? Mi cerveza es muy frio!

This concludes today's Spanish lesson, as that is all I really know. Let's be brutally honest with each other. I spent most of high school Spanish thinking up new ways to style my mullet and gain muscle mass for the upcoming football season. I only passed because Mrs. Wells observed Rule # 234 of Life's Little Handbook. Respect the mullet (this can also be applied to a mustache). I'm rambling. One would think that I had consumed numerous Tom Collins at this point. Mi Tom Collins es muy frio!

From December 7th - December 13th the Handfelts, with a few other families in tow, laid waste to the once peaceful country of the Dominican Republic. Puerto Plata to be more specific. And if you want to get downright nosy, we stayed at the Lifestyles Resort. What's next, you gonna ask for my room number? How rude. C22.

We had company on this little excursion. Roll call. Susan and Ron Fuller (my parents). Harry and Cindy Petersen (Katy's parents). Cory and Gretchen Handfelt (my brother and his wife). What an interesting bunch of sailors we have here! The weather outside upon our departure had not yet reached 'frightful', but was certainly uncomfortable for people that like to go without shirts, much less coats. Without further ado, let me summarize the minuta of our journey.

The story will be told in pictures on Friday. (Although if you're too impatient to wait until then, check out our Picasa Album, located on the sidebar.) The tension is unbearable. Will you see Cory and I without our shirts? What a cliffhanger! Good Lord!

Day 1: After a brief transfer in Miami, we arrive in Puerto Plata around 4pm. The van ride to the resort is filled with childlike glee, mostly because Cory is acting like a child. Check in goes smoothly and the resort is pristine. Our rooms are all next to each other but spread out enough that we all have space. Fridge stocked with beer (Presidente), Pepsi and bottled water; as if I'll be drinking those last two. Some sort of devil can-opening contraption causes beer to slay my shirt rather violently. Susan walks in and she too has been hit by the can opener's unwieldy devices. All well, we all have a good laugh about that and continue down the path to rampant alcoholism. Harry walks in, beer in hand, unscathed. I can't hide my envy.

Next up is the Welcome Party. We are shuttled to a park-like area. Lots of tables, huge buffets, ice sculptures, a stage with a live band and people in crazy native dress. The drinks are strong, almost unbearable. That stops no one. The buffet is ok, but any mediocrity in the food is masked by the potent booze that is being consumed. Soon we are all on stage, dancing to some Dominican cover band who sticks to the American classics. I recall 'Shout' and 'La Bamba' but not much more. (Did I just call 'La Bamba' American?)

This easily rivals the Chris Paul wedding in terms of 'grossly inappropriate gringo dancing'. We decide to walk back to the resort instead of taking the shuttle and Katy proceeds to get us lost, perhaps distracted by the dingo (see: stray dog) in the road or perhaps his frog companion. We all make it home safely and sleep off the roofies they put in our drinks.

Day 2: VIP Beach. Pretty amazing stuff that the pictures will do more justice to than my words. A beach filled with beds (some of them bunk bed style, with curtains), mini-pools, swings and beach bars. This overlooks the 'regular' beach. Waiters refilling drinks like ice water. Today, the drinks are much better tasting and less potent. Pina Coladas and Daquiris seem to be the drink of choice. Lots of reading and relaxing. Some quick dips in the ocean.

We get boogie boards and kayaks and Katy gets knocked known by a rouge kayak before we even get it into the ocean. Woman down! I remember the old adage about having to pee on someone's leg, but then remember that's only for jellyfish bites. Crisis averted. Katy's birthday dinner at VIP Gourmet. The waiters sing to her, Chi Chi's style, but with class and musical instruments. Filets, Lobster, Shrimp Cocktail, wine and Harry-endorsed Kenny G on the speakers. Afterwards we walk around and enjoy the rest of the night.

Day 3: More beach time. It rains, but only for about 15 minutes and then clears up. During the thunder shower Katy and I take refuge in a hut on the beach that sells trinkets. We feel obligated to buy something since he's sheltering us from the elements and end up with a Dominican Santa Claus statue. Lots of time to read and nap. For Katy, it's Revolutionary Road and for me, A Year of Living Bibically. Dinner is at the Mexican place on the resort and it's very tasty. Margaritas, fajitas, nachos, burritos and quesadillas.

Day 4: Cory and I have switched our drink to a Tom Collins, something more light and fruity, befitting of our personalities. Gretchen, Katy and Cindy have moved onto Miami Vice (daiquiri/colada combos), Susan still rocks the Pina Colada, Ron sips his Coke Light and Harry sticks with old reliable, Presidente. There is a golf outing in the cards for Ron, Cory and I. It costs nothing and the course is nearby. This course has all the character of a weathered seaman. Chickens on the fareway, a random hose left on the green as a means to water the grass, children playing over the fence. Pebble Beach this is not. That is perfectly ok though, as it made it all the more more memorbale.

Our two caddies, Davey (15) and Johan (19) barely speak a lick on English but are good kids. Cigars were smoked (not by the caddies). Ron sizes up putts while stroking his mustache. Cory does his best John Daly impression (drinking wise). Good times were had. Chinese food at a place called Indochine for us kids. Orange chicken, spring rolls, tilipia and tempura veggies. More Tom Collins please.

Day 5: Beach bums. Getting to know our bartenders more. We approach and they go, "Hey, Tomb Coollins!" I'm photographed with my shirt off, sending the local media into a frenzy. Ron sits on the swing and it breaks, causing him to tumble. They put a sign on it, but some aren't fortunate enough to see it. One German lady tries sitting on it (while I'm right there), falls and them exclaims in a thick German accent, "Some fat baztard broke ze swing!"

VIP Gourmet for dinner again and this time I rock the lamb shanks. Better than the lobster. Afterwards us kids head with Susan and Ron to the adjoined casino. The drinks are flowing like church wine. The boys hit up the blackjack table while the girls do the slots. I drunkenly turn to my brother at one point and go, "I have no idea how gambling works, but this is fascinating!" Cory responds, "Spoken like someone who's about to lose all their money. Why don't you say that a little louder so the dealer can hear you." There is a Vegas Style show upstairs that we grace our presence with. Cory's shirt becomes more unbuttoned as the night unfolds. Time to go sleep it off.

Day 6: The last full day. Us kids decide to do an excursion. First up, a tour of the countryside. We hop into an army style jeep (open air) with about 7 other people. We drive the unpaved roads through the mountains with our tour guide Neifi. We stop at a good lookout point and have some rum. After that we stop at a Dominican school. All of the school children come running when they hear the truck, clad in blue and khaki school uniforms. Thats right kids, the Handfelts are here! A few children play marbles out front. A teacher observes a few children drawing inside one of the classroom doorways. Very cool, Brad and Angelina-type stuff.

Next up is a typical Dominican style home. We tour the home, make coffee in their coffee hut (while singing) and then it's on to lunch. We eat overlooking the mountains. One of the best meals of the trip. Red beans and rice, a simple lettuce/tomato/vinegar salad and pasta. Simple but wonderful. Pictures are taken. The sun is beating down like a woman scorned. After that we stop to sample sugarcane, stop at a Dominican farm and then a hut where men make sandstone carvings. To Katy's objections, I buy a sandstone Cubs baseball. As if we don't have enough of those. Then we stop in one of the actual cities (paved roads) and pass some farmers markets, stores and lots of motorcycles (crotch rockets, not Harley's).

After that it's on to the most adventurous part of the trip. The waterfalls. There are 27, but we just climb the first 7. Clad in life jackets and helmets, we trek 20 minutes through the jungle, crossing rivers and streams, just to get to the first one. It's a doozy. The guides help lift you up the falls and then you swim in crystal clear water (the rock walls are so high it's like swimming in a cave) to the next waterfall. Coming down was even more exciting. Most of them we slid down (the rocks are so smooth they are like natural waterfalls), except for the last one. A 30 foot jump to the waters below. I went first. Pants pooper. Gretchen was last and extremely leery. "I don't think you understand", she yelled from the rocks above before plummeting to her grisly demise. Scratch that, she lived. Crisis averted again. The pictures from that should be pretty classic.

We ride all the way back, tired but satisfied. It was a great, great trip. Not sure what the parents did all day, but they apparently had a really good day too and enjoyed hanging out together. We met up with them for one last supper at Bellini Italian restaurant. Pasta trio, lasagna, veal cutlets, garlic bread. We took lots of pictures. Beautiful, tan, warm pictures. Sigh.

Day 7: Our flight didn't leave til 5, so we got one last round of beach time in. More Tom Collins and Pina Coladas. Cory starts to sing Boyz to Men, "It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday". I finally finish my book and start on the Slash autobiography. Susan was on like book 13. Pizza at Bellini for lunch and then off to the airport. A stop off at Miami again before re-entering the harsh, cold (literally) reality of the Midwest. Flip flops traded for boots. Board shorts for jeans. Racy t-shirts for racy sweatshirts. Beach towels for snow shovels.

We reluctantly grabbed our luggage off the conveyor, hugged everyone goodbye and hailed cab back into the city, as the rest of our crew trugged their way towards the hotel shuttle. The Chicago skyline was in our sight, the Dominican skyline on our minds.

*Stay tuned Friday for pictures. This is just like show and tell!

L-R: Ron, Susan, Katy, Ben, Cory, Grechen, Cindy, Harry