Jack Frost nipping on your nose

The Dominican in Pictures

First came the written account, and now as they say in the Dominican (imagine Borat accent) "photo memories"! There are way too many photos to post, so make sure to check out the whole Picasa album by clicking on the Picasa link on the sidebar; or if you are technologically lacking (ahem, parents) I'll make it really easy: just click here.

Here are a few highlights. Pending the Walgreens camera counter, pictures of us at the waterfalls should be ready shortly.

The Places:

This is the VIP beach, where we spent a good amount of time, reading, sleeping and drinking fruity cocktails whose names would make a truckdriver blush.

This is the living room of one of our one-bedroom suites. Minimal time was spent here. Not pictured is the counter-top can opener which wrecked many a life and left only one survivor in it's wake: Harry.

We stopped by a Dominican school on our tour. The kids were adorable and happy despite their less than ideal arrangements.

The mountain views were amazing. Not even Cory being in the picture could diminish their greatness. On a thoroughly nerdy note, it kind of reminded me of the island on 'Lost'.

Many of you have probably golfed many more times than I, but have you ever had to deal with chickens on the fareway? They really add an unforeseen level of difficulty and even though they were only present on one hole, I blame them for my unsightly final score. I'll get my vengeance in the form of Wendy's five-piece nuggets.

Katy grinding up coffee during our tour of a typical Dominican home. It was so good that I make Katy use that exact same method every morning.

Dominicans love baseball. Therefore, by association, I love the Dominican. Or, as my friend Chris (Fort Wayne, woot woot!) observed, it appears that I stumbled across the 2012 Chicago Cubs roster.

The People:

The trip wouldn't have been near as fun without the company that we kept.

The Dudes: Ron, Cory, Harry and Julio

The ladies: Katy, Gretchen, Cindy and Susan

The Food:

What would a HHH post be without the mention of food? Since it was an all inclusive, all of our food and drinks were paid for. The breakfast buffets were, well, buffets, but many of the on-site restaurants were really great. Our favorites were the Mexican joint, El Zorro and the Italian place Bellini, which served up tasty single serving pizzas in the afternoon.

Best food I ate: The 'typical Dominican meal' on our excursion; beef fajitas at El Zorro; Pasta Trio at Bellini; Katy's spiced birthday cake at VIP Gourmet; Gretchen's Chinese chicken dish at Indochine; the french fries at the beach bar; lamb shanks at VIP Gourmet; two eggs over easy at breakfast every morning; pizza at Bellini.

Best drinks: Everything, but mostly Presidente beer, Pina Coladas and Tom Collins at the beach bar and Margaritas at El Zorro.

A typical Domincan meal that we ate on our excursion. Rice, beans, pasta and salad. Surprisingly, this was one of the best meals we had. Cory had some mystery meat which we think was goat. The curse of the Billy Goat has been broken. What's up goat? Say hello to your mother for me.

A not-so-typical Dominican meal. My pasta trio on the last night at Bellini. That quote/unquote "hit the spot".

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

The Handfelts Return, Having Witnessed No Cockfights, But Slightly More Tan

We're back from our trip to the Dominican Republic, all in one piece. We were greeted, rather rudely I might add, by snot freezing weather back in the Windy City. For shame!

Good times were had in Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. I managed to avoid the patented Ben Handfelt Lobster Burn. We did the old 'fly and flop' at a VIP resort, but also took an awesome day trip into the mountains of the country, visiting a school, Dominican home and farm before capping it off by jumping off a 30 foot waterfall. Good times indeed.

We hope to have the first recap post up by the end of the week (this may require a couple of parts so it isn't interminably long), so to tide you over I give you this picture of my brother Cory and I, which pretty much sums up the trip:

Home Alone

What's up peeps? This blog still blowz. I'm at home alone. Woot, woot! Mom and Dad went to some foreign country. Cuba I think. Whatevs. They better bring me back some of that Cuban Catnip. I've heard good things.

Meanwhile, I've been partying it up. I have a couple of DJ gigs at the local gay bar here. Good times and the pay is great. My band, 'Bitch and the Exciting Conclusion' also got booked at a nearby dive bar. That should be pretty sweet. I was napping like all day yesterday in preparation.
I have a big bowl of food that they left me and some chick comes by and checks on me every so often. She's alright, but I pretend to like her so that she feeds me. I lay on my back with my feet in the air and she's all like, 'Oh, that's so cute' and I'm all like, 'Yeah, I know, so feed me already lady'. She brought be some real turkey for Thanksgiving. Now that's livin'.

Anyway, give my cell phone a call if you want to chat. It's boring as poop up in here and Mom and Dad forgot to leave my toys out, go figure. Viva la Cuba. Whatevs.

Gone Huntin'

Katy: The Handfelt Happy Hour is officially closed the week of December 8th, but check back soon for a full report of the Handfelt, Petersen, and Fuller families' trouble making in the southern hemisphere. I'll be celebrating my birthday and it will probably take me a week to recover. And by 'recover', I mean either from the birthday festivities, from drinking the Dominican Republic water, or from falling down a waterfall or off a horse while on a horseback ride in the mountains. Let's hope for the best. Good old "Freckles" at Horse Camp in 6th grade sure didn't teach me any spectacular horseback riding skills.

Ben: Carmella will be holding down the fort in our absence, so keep checking for updates. Don't put it past her to run this massively successful site into the ground. Meanwhile, there is a solid chance that I may end up getting arrested in the Dominican for leading some aborted political coup. Even if I manage to escape jail, I may end up getting trampled at a cockfight (the 2nd most popular sport in DR) or shanked in a game of 'dice' gone horribly awry. More likely though, I will end up with a 3rd degree sunburn on the first day and end up paying the consequences for the rest of the trip. I will tell you this: Included in our all-inclusive package is access to some fine dining. Don't think for a second that I won't be eating lobster like a bastard. Cause I will. I don't even care. I will eat that s*&t and dip it in butter. Believe that.

Gobble, Gobble

We enjoyed a nice long trip to Iowa for Thanksgiving this year. Ben and I were both able to cut out of work early and get a head start on the drive Wednesday afternoon, but it still took us an hour to get out of the city and through the 'burbs. We were kickin' it in a classy rented Chevy Cobalt, courtesy of our pal Jasmine at our rental car place. We rent there so much, we're like old buddies by now. On Thursday we visited my parents and cute Grandma (she's 91 and sprightly!). My dad gave Ben and I his old golf clubs, so I hope to become like Tiger Woods once spring hits. I do have a pretty sweet putt when mini-golfing. We also checked out progress on my parents' new townhouse and got some treats served up Grandma Karen-style (cheesy poofs, macadamia nut cookies, and cappuccino), before heading off to our Thanksgiving dinner at Beck's. The day was fun, cute, and very typical of my family, in a good way.

Friday we met some friends, Jen, Chad, Jami, John, and their kiddos, Addy and Sid, at the O.P. We gorged ourselves on pizza...seriously, no place has pizza like the O.P. Can anyone tell me why taco pizza doesn't exist in Chicago, or outside of Iowa for that matter? Inquiring minds want to know. I am tempted to open my own franchise of the O.P. here in the city.

Katy, Jami, and Jen. Our bellies are full of taco pizza.

Later that night we hit the town with Ben's brother Cory, his wife Gretchen, and Ben's friend Cody. We made a triumphant return to Main Street in Cedar Falls and were amazed at the sweet deals that haven't increased since our college days Y E A R S ago. Ben and Cody also reminisced about the time back in the day when they were offered the chance to buy the bar in the Black Hawk Motel for $4,000...unfortunately that didn't happen; they would've been a huge success now that downtown CF is booming!

Cody, Ben, and Cory. Why are both Cody and Cory both wearing purple shirts?

On Saturday, we officially celebrated the holiday with Ben's mom and stepdad, Susan and Ron, Ron's parents, and Cory and Gretchen's family. We had a really nice non-traditional Thanksgiving meal of ribeyes (courtesy of Ron, the grill-master), sauteed mushrooms and onions, green beans, Susan's cheesy potatoes, Gretchen's cornbread, Donna's cranberries, and my pumpkin cheesecake. I'm not sure how beach body friendly all that food was. Susan, Ron, Cory, Gretchen, my parents and Ben and I are getting ready to hit the white sands of Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic pretty soon, so we spent a lot of the time talking about our upcoming vacation. Later that night, we helped Griffin decorate a beautiful gingerbread house.

Sunday Ben and I headed back to Chicago pretty early so that he could get prepared for the premiere of "Nothing Like the Holidays" that was going down on Monday, which he was in charge of. His company and clients say that the event came off really well and I'm very proud of him. I spent the night decorating for the holidays and I hope to post some new pictures of our place soon.

Our handiwork. Gretchen was a good foreman and kept the roof from falling in. Don't ask Susan about the icing.