- Thread starter frank12
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Cabarete Diaries, part 2
How was the game? Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong.
First, it started raining, which interrupted the Dish Satellite signal. After that, the power went out on the street, which caused a total blackout on all our tv's, and our computer printer's to shut down. Then the extra load on our generator from the extra tv's, monitors, computers and lights, prevented the generator from automatically kicking on, which then put an extra load on all our batteries which keep everything--computers, printers, basic lights, and a few televisions from shutting down until the generator kicks on.
The interrupted electricity caused the kitchen to get backed up because the printers shut down. This then caused the wait staff to get backed up knee deep at the bar, which caused everyone to get further into the weeds. Getting further into the weeds causes a vicious cycle to start turning where, basically, everything gets backed up at the bar and also the kitchen...the waitstaff our standing knee deep in sh1t while they wait for the bartenders to make their drink orders, the food in the kitchen that needs to go out starts backing up in the window because the wait staff are all standing at the bar waiting for their drinks; the food runner gets overwhelmed because too much food is coming out all at once, and the wait staff can't help him because they're all standing at the bar waiting for their drink orders to get completed.
Meanwhile, i'm on the microphone trying to explain to 400 customers out on the beach and inside our restaurant--customers who are now sitting in complete pitch blackness--that were having a "little" technical difficulty with our electricity. As if this was not stating the obvious as people sat in complete darkness while being swarmed by shoe-shine boys.
Suddenly, the electricity started flickering on and off like poltergeist--which caused 400 people to start cheering and getting excited about the possibility of the game returning back on the tv's. Then the sound--and only the sound--for the game came back on, but unfortunately was now infected with poltergeist...the volume was so loud that people's ears were bleeding. If that wasn't enough, the rain caused two 50-inch flat screens on the beach to shut down after water seeped into the back of them, causing them to explode in a ball of fire. Customers started screaming for their food, the waitstaff were still standing at the bar waiting for their drinks; the bar--and the customers surrounding the bar--got backed up further because the bartenders were now trying to catch up with all the waitstaff drink orders...and the merry-go-round keeps going around and around.
On a side note, we gave away $70,000 pesos in money from the football squares that we sold. We had two boards with squares on them; one was a $200 peso board with 100 squares; the other was a $500 board with 100 squares. The first three quarters i gave away $14,000 pesos, and for the final score we gave away $28,000 pesos, for a total of $70,000 pesos. a young guy sitting next to our mixing board won US $18,000 dollars for the final score and started screaming and jumping up and down like a complete madman.
Meanwhile, we also gave a away a flat screen tv to a guy who was going back home to New York city today. How he was going to take back a flat screen television back on the plane, i don't know? But then some customers--regulars of ours who lives here, Jim & Debbie, came up to him and offered him $100, which he gladly accepted!! That was genius on the part of Jim & Debbie.
Meanwhile, the rain came and went all throughout the game--causing the satellite signals to lose transmission. We have a fix for this by switching over to cable, but this causes the sound to not be synced-up with the game, and it also means that we have to run around like a chickens with its head cut off in order to switch every television (all 11 tv's) channel over to the cable channel; then we switch it back to the satellite once the rain stops in order to sync the game with the sound. Beautiful. Basically, we're switching tv channels back and forth all night long because of the rain, and then back and forth again. Lovely.
And as if nothing else could possibly go wrong, i had a group of enormous New York city Bronx men sitting on the beach with Dominican working girls. One of the girls ordered garlic shrimp. i brought the dishes out (i was helping food run) and she looked at it as if their were live snakes squirming around. The girl--who is Dominican--and i started arguing about the dish in Spanish. She didn't want vegetables or rice with the shrimp,a nd she especially didn't want any vegetables touching her shrimp; she wanted french fries instead. Naturally, she didn't order french fries when she ordered the dish from her waiter. And now she was expecting me and the waiter to be clairvoyant. Another high class Dominican girl. I asked her to start on the shrimp ( i didn't want it to get cold) and that i would be back with the french fries. But she hated the vegetables and rice touching the shrimp and was profoundly offended by this. This caused the New Yorkers--all five of them--who did not speak one word of "Dominican" Spanish to feel as if they needed to defend this girls honor (You got to love New Yorkers). One guy started telling me off; his friend threatened me if i didn't give the girl what she ordered; another was about to stand up and throw the plate like a Frisbee across the tent at me.
Meanwhile, i got to get back to the kitchen and start running food out, Chop, Chop! i got 20 dishes sitting in the window that are getting cold and need running out like now! Right now! I don't have time to argue with five African Americans who do not speak a word of Dominican Spanish and feel as if its my fault that vegetables are touching some working girl's garlic shrimp.
I'm sorry...How was game? Oh, just wonderful. Peachy, actually.
Thanks for asking.
Frank
First, it started raining, which interrupted the Dish Satellite signal. After that, the power went out on the street, which caused a total blackout on all our tv's, and our computer printer's to shut down. Then the extra load on our generator from the extra tv's, monitors, computers and lights, prevented the generator from automatically kicking on, which then put an extra load on all our batteries which keep everything--computers, printers, basic lights, and a few televisions from shutting down until the generator kicks on.
The interrupted electricity caused the kitchen to get backed up because the printers shut down. This then caused the wait staff to get backed up knee deep at the bar, which caused everyone to get further into the weeds. Getting further into the weeds causes a vicious cycle to start turning where, basically, everything gets backed up at the bar and also the kitchen...the waitstaff our standing knee deep in sh1t while they wait for the bartenders to make their drink orders, the food in the kitchen that needs to go out starts backing up in the window because the wait staff are all standing at the bar waiting for their drinks; the food runner gets overwhelmed because too much food is coming out all at once, and the wait staff can't help him because they're all standing at the bar waiting for their drink orders to get completed.
Meanwhile, i'm on the microphone trying to explain to 400 customers out on the beach and inside our restaurant--customers who are now sitting in complete pitch blackness--that were having a "little" technical difficulty with our electricity. As if this was not stating the obvious as people sat in complete darkness while being swarmed by shoe-shine boys.
Suddenly, the electricity started flickering on and off like poltergeist--which caused 400 people to start cheering and getting excited about the possibility of the game returning back on the tv's. Then the sound--and only the sound--for the game came back on, but unfortunately was now infected with poltergeist...the volume was so loud that people's ears were bleeding. If that wasn't enough, the rain caused two 50-inch flat screens on the beach to shut down after water seeped into the back of them, causing them to explode in a ball of fire. Customers started screaming for their food, the waitstaff were still standing at the bar waiting for their drinks; the bar--and the customers surrounding the bar--got backed up further because the bartenders were now trying to catch up with all the waitstaff drink orders...and the merry-go-round keeps going around and around.
On a side note, we gave away $70,000 pesos in money from the football squares that we sold. We had two boards with squares on them; one was a $200 peso board with 100 squares; the other was a $500 board with 100 squares. The first three quarters i gave away $14,000 pesos, and for the final score we gave away $28,000 pesos, for a total of $70,000 pesos. a young guy sitting next to our mixing board won US $18,000 dollars for the final score and started screaming and jumping up and down like a complete madman.
Meanwhile, we also gave a away a flat screen tv to a guy who was going back home to New York city today. How he was going to take back a flat screen television back on the plane, i don't know? But then some customers--regulars of ours who lives here, Jim & Debbie, came up to him and offered him $100, which he gladly accepted!! That was genius on the part of Jim & Debbie.
Meanwhile, the rain came and went all throughout the game--causing the satellite signals to lose transmission. We have a fix for this by switching over to cable, but this causes the sound to not be synced-up with the game, and it also means that we have to run around like a chickens with its head cut off in order to switch every television (all 11 tv's) channel over to the cable channel; then we switch it back to the satellite once the rain stops in order to sync the game with the sound. Beautiful. Basically, we're switching tv channels back and forth all night long because of the rain, and then back and forth again. Lovely.
And as if nothing else could possibly go wrong, i had a group of enormous New York city Bronx men sitting on the beach with Dominican working girls. One of the girls ordered garlic shrimp. i brought the dishes out (i was helping food run) and she looked at it as if their were live snakes squirming around. The girl--who is Dominican--and i started arguing about the dish in Spanish. She didn't want vegetables or rice with the shrimp,a nd she especially didn't want any vegetables touching her shrimp; she wanted french fries instead. Naturally, she didn't order french fries when she ordered the dish from her waiter. And now she was expecting me and the waiter to be clairvoyant. Another high class Dominican girl. I asked her to start on the shrimp ( i didn't want it to get cold) and that i would be back with the french fries. But she hated the vegetables and rice touching the shrimp and was profoundly offended by this. This caused the New Yorkers--all five of them--who did not speak one word of "Dominican" Spanish to feel as if they needed to defend this girls honor (You got to love New Yorkers). One guy started telling me off; his friend threatened me if i didn't give the girl what she ordered; another was about to stand up and throw the plate like a Frisbee across the tent at me.
Meanwhile, i got to get back to the kitchen and start running food out, Chop, Chop! i got 20 dishes sitting in the window that are getting cold and need running out like now! Right now! I don't have time to argue with five African Americans who do not speak a word of Dominican Spanish and feel as if its my fault that vegetables are touching some working girl's garlic shrimp.
I'm sorry...How was game? Oh, just wonderful. Peachy, actually.
Thanks for asking.
Frank
That SUCKS!
All was good watching it on my 60" in surround sound! Now its dumping snow - so at least U have the playa.
Was Teddy well behaved?
All was good watching it on my 60" in surround sound! Now its dumping snow - so at least U have the playa.
Was Teddy well behaved?
That's a bummer Frank.
Seems like there were a load of AA's down for the game…Sosua was knee-deep
But at least they had luz there
Seems like there were a load of AA's down for the game…Sosua was knee-deep
But at least they had luz there
Well I have about 10" of the white stuff already and more to follow.
U got the playa filled with miscreants
U got the playa filled with miscreants
haha Frank!
We were at Kahunas and had a very similar night except of course we weren't working but felt horrible for the poor staff. I didn't know Dominicans could sweat so much, never seen it before!
It was a friggin gong show and I predicted the power would go out. (I should get the same award that the gorgon is gonna give JMB)
We had one of the only tables on the upper deck that didn't get dripped on or huge amounts of rain thrown on us. I thought the whole tarp thing was going to collapse a few times.
We had a great time, when the lights went out lots of drunk guys yelling don't touch my c*ck type of stuff. Gotta love drunk NA's!!
The only downside was that the beer chugging contest I signed my wife up never happened at half time! I know she would have won!!
We were at Kahunas and had a very similar night except of course we weren't working but felt horrible for the poor staff. I didn't know Dominicans could sweat so much, never seen it before!
It was a friggin gong show and I predicted the power would go out. (I should get the same award that the gorgon is gonna give JMB)
We had one of the only tables on the upper deck that didn't get dripped on or huge amounts of rain thrown on us. I thought the whole tarp thing was going to collapse a few times.
We had a great time, when the lights went out lots of drunk guys yelling don't touch my c*ck type of stuff. Gotta love drunk NA's!!
The only downside was that the beer chugging contest I signed my wife up never happened at half time! I know she would have won!!
Frank not sure if U go on ADV, but this guy is worth the read - a Yank doing a RTW trip on a KTM
RTW with Noah on a KTM 690 - Page 186 - ADVrider
RTW with Noah on a KTM 690 - Page 186 - ADVrider
Don’t stop the Carnival. The surprises, absurdity, and comedy never stops here in Cabarete.
We had another musician play last week at our Irish bar. His name is Les, and is a Canadian missionary who lives here in Cabarete. I wasn’t here the night when he played, but everyone said he was very good. The other manager was very impressed and liked him a lot. A few of the wait staff has seen him over the years and recognized him instantly. I believe he lives on the outskirts of town where they have a flea market every Saturday or Sunday. Les has beautiful silver hair and is very fit for his age. Jokingly, he told our manager that he wasn’t sure that he wanted to play at our Irish bar for fear of being the third musician to pass away…after two previous musicians died within six years apart after taking to our stage.
That was Wednesday or Thursday when he played (my nights off), and within four or five days later, he was shot nine times while confronting robbers at his home with a baseball bat. To say that he was brave would be a gross understatement. He was beyond brave, he was Superman. But I could have told him this: You don’t show up to a gun fight with a piece of wood. Nevertheless, it looks like he is made of steel and is impervious to lead. Thankfully, he is going to recover. And that’s a good thing because our resident musician, Cletus, has just left the building. I just took him to the airport.
Cletus, our Irish brogue and musician extraordinaire, lasted a whole month at our Irish bar. He left with a big smile on his face after drinking our whole month supply of vodka in a marathon madness that bordered on hedonism and insanity. I never witnessed one man drink so much in one sitting—and I’ve seen a lot of musicians over the years consume vast quantities of the Devil’s juice. But Cletus was on another level altogether. He consumed so much vodka in one sitting that he was impervious to alcohol poisoning. But there was one redeeming quality about his drinking that brought me to the brink of madness…and it was this: as he drank, he would start telling the same story that he began only two days before. I swear, Cletus was telling me the same story for two weeks straight. He was still telling me a story about Ireland that he began back in December. I had fallen asleep at the bar listening to him cover every detail of every bar, and every women that he ever met in Ireland. I woke up a half-dozen times just to find him telling the same story from last month. At 2am I closed the bar, left the building, got home, then remembered that I left my phone in the cigar case behind the bar. I returned 30 minutes later at 2:30am to retrieve my phone, only to find Cletus still sitting at the bar telling the same story to a sleeping stray dog that was sleeping underneath his chair.
Don’t get me wrong, Cletus was an amazing musician; he played the violin, harmonica, guitar, and his heart while simultaneously drinking a shot of vodka every fifteen minutes without missing a note. Now that’s talent. I once witnessed him drink an entire bottle of vodka while simultaneously serenading an overweight prostitute that he fell in love with after she told him that she loved him and wanted to live in America with him and have his babies. Did it matter that she had only met him one hour earlier? No, he fell in love with every female that made eye contact with him. He fell in love with any female with a pulse, regardless whether they outweighed him by 200lbs (Cletus only weighs 85lbs). On top of this, he wore his heart out on his sleeve like an accordion and played his three heart strings to every girl that walked into the bar and even slightly glanced in his direction (we shared this in common). The man was both cupid and Aphrodite in one tight package.
We’ll miss you Cletus!
Frank
We had another musician play last week at our Irish bar. His name is Les, and is a Canadian missionary who lives here in Cabarete. I wasn’t here the night when he played, but everyone said he was very good. The other manager was very impressed and liked him a lot. A few of the wait staff has seen him over the years and recognized him instantly. I believe he lives on the outskirts of town where they have a flea market every Saturday or Sunday. Les has beautiful silver hair and is very fit for his age. Jokingly, he told our manager that he wasn’t sure that he wanted to play at our Irish bar for fear of being the third musician to pass away…after two previous musicians died within six years apart after taking to our stage.
That was Wednesday or Thursday when he played (my nights off), and within four or five days later, he was shot nine times while confronting robbers at his home with a baseball bat. To say that he was brave would be a gross understatement. He was beyond brave, he was Superman. But I could have told him this: You don’t show up to a gun fight with a piece of wood. Nevertheless, it looks like he is made of steel and is impervious to lead. Thankfully, he is going to recover. And that’s a good thing because our resident musician, Cletus, has just left the building. I just took him to the airport.
Cletus, our Irish brogue and musician extraordinaire, lasted a whole month at our Irish bar. He left with a big smile on his face after drinking our whole month supply of vodka in a marathon madness that bordered on hedonism and insanity. I never witnessed one man drink so much in one sitting—and I’ve seen a lot of musicians over the years consume vast quantities of the Devil’s juice. But Cletus was on another level altogether. He consumed so much vodka in one sitting that he was impervious to alcohol poisoning. But there was one redeeming quality about his drinking that brought me to the brink of madness…and it was this: as he drank, he would start telling the same story that he began only two days before. I swear, Cletus was telling me the same story for two weeks straight. He was still telling me a story about Ireland that he began back in December. I had fallen asleep at the bar listening to him cover every detail of every bar, and every women that he ever met in Ireland. I woke up a half-dozen times just to find him telling the same story from last month. At 2am I closed the bar, left the building, got home, then remembered that I left my phone in the cigar case behind the bar. I returned 30 minutes later at 2:30am to retrieve my phone, only to find Cletus still sitting at the bar telling the same story to a sleeping stray dog that was sleeping underneath his chair.
Don’t get me wrong, Cletus was an amazing musician; he played the violin, harmonica, guitar, and his heart while simultaneously drinking a shot of vodka every fifteen minutes without missing a note. Now that’s talent. I once witnessed him drink an entire bottle of vodka while simultaneously serenading an overweight prostitute that he fell in love with after she told him that she loved him and wanted to live in America with him and have his babies. Did it matter that she had only met him one hour earlier? No, he fell in love with every female that made eye contact with him. He fell in love with any female with a pulse, regardless whether they outweighed him by 200lbs (Cletus only weighs 85lbs). On top of this, he wore his heart out on his sleeve like an accordion and played his three heart strings to every girl that walked into the bar and even slightly glanced in his direction (we shared this in common). The man was both cupid and Aphrodite in one tight package.
We’ll miss you Cletus!
Frank
Ok, let’s talk expat craziness, absurdity, and madness. It seems to be in abundance around the north coast these days.
This week started out normal. We had the Superbowl start with a bang only to experience a ten minute blackout in the first quarter, followed by rain and wind that interrupted the satellite signal and caused two 50-inch beach tv’s to go up in a ball of fire after water seeped into the back of them, followed by the restaurant & bar’s computers & printers shutting down from the lack of electricity, which caused the bar and kitchen to back up like a four day constipation.
Then an expat from Canada, Les, was shot nine times in his legs and arms while defending his property with a plank of wood. Did it matter that the robbers had guns? No, he kept on swinging like Sammy Sosa even as one of the men kept on shooting him like ducks in a carnival. Thankfully, he will survive to swing his bat another day.
I had a customer sit at the bar and tell me about his eccentric best friend, Lou, in Sosua. Lou has only one rule for girls that come over to his penthouse condo to visit him and eat his food and drink his liquor: No clothes. They must take off all of their clothes and hang them up in the closet as soon as they arrive. The rule is simple: “Do not pass go, do not collect $100 dollars, and do not walk past the doormat until all clothes are off and hanging up.”
I asked him, “Why the strict rule…lack of A/C?”
“No. Lou is paranoid of the girls stealing from him. He wants to make sure that they do not leave with anything that they did not bring with them.”
“Ok, I understand the logic, but why not leave the panties on?” I asked.
He looked at me like I was stupid…which I am...and said, “Frank, the working girls here are magicians, you know that? They can make a blender or toaster disappear inside their panties in three seconds! Panties are like camouflage for these girls. Panties are like a boat tarp for them…a tent, a trampoline. They use their panties to hide guns, saws, and motorcycles inside of them.”
After he left, another expat sat down at the bar, Alabama Gary. You may remember Alabama Gary? Last we spoke of him; I think he was trying to serenade a heifer. That didn’t go so well. Gary has since changed his ways, seen the light, modified his behavior, and now chases only girls from the campo.
Last time I saw him, Superbowl Sunday, he came in with two twin sisters from Rio San Juan. The fact that they didn’t look like twins, nor act like twins, was totally lost on Gary. He was just happy to say that they were twins since this was the story that they fed him.
Alabama Gary had out his bottle of Viagra and Jack Daniels sitting out on the table in front of him. He was chewing on the Viagra like Flintstones vitamins while watching Seattle run away with the game. He asked the group of people sitting with him if they would like to have a Viagra pill while holding the bottle up and passing it around the table. He even asked me if I wanted some Viagra, but I tried telling him that I’m not even a registered voter. He didn’t care. He acted as if chewing on Viagra was the most natural thing ever.
Yesterday, Mikey, owner of the El Cid Lounge, in Massachusetts came in and sat at the bar. I’ve never seen a man go through a weight transformation as dramatically as Mikey has gone through in the last year. He has lost something like 80lbs in the last year and a half. That’s amazing. Our Irish musician, Cletus, only weighed 85lbs fully wet. So basically, Mikey has lost the equivalent of one Irish musician from his 350lbs frame.
Mikey told me a funny story about his bar, El Cid, in Massachusetts. A few years ago, someone tried to rob his bar. Two guys came in, robbed the place, and then took off in their getaway car down the street. He heard the car start to sputter as it got half way down the street. He took off running down the street after it. The car ran out of gas right in the middle of the street. No joke. It’s like something out of Groucho Marx movie. He ran up to the car with a baseball bat—not unlike Canadian Les, had in our first story here—only unlike Le’s situation, these guys either didn’t have guns, or didn’t have bullets in their guns. Mikey beat both guys with his bat and took his money off them before the cops arrived.
Apparently, however, the robbers had some extra money on them that was not part of Mikey’s bar. Mikey got that money unbeknownst to him. When they complained to the cops about this little unknown fact, the cops asked Mikey about it, and Mikey just shrugged his shoulders and said, “You know thieves like to lie.”
At the end of the day, the extra money was for making Mikey run down the street after them in his underwear, and was also the jump start to his new diet which is working in spades.
Frank
This week started out normal. We had the Superbowl start with a bang only to experience a ten minute blackout in the first quarter, followed by rain and wind that interrupted the satellite signal and caused two 50-inch beach tv’s to go up in a ball of fire after water seeped into the back of them, followed by the restaurant & bar’s computers & printers shutting down from the lack of electricity, which caused the bar and kitchen to back up like a four day constipation.
Then an expat from Canada, Les, was shot nine times in his legs and arms while defending his property with a plank of wood. Did it matter that the robbers had guns? No, he kept on swinging like Sammy Sosa even as one of the men kept on shooting him like ducks in a carnival. Thankfully, he will survive to swing his bat another day.
I had a customer sit at the bar and tell me about his eccentric best friend, Lou, in Sosua. Lou has only one rule for girls that come over to his penthouse condo to visit him and eat his food and drink his liquor: No clothes. They must take off all of their clothes and hang them up in the closet as soon as they arrive. The rule is simple: “Do not pass go, do not collect $100 dollars, and do not walk past the doormat until all clothes are off and hanging up.”
I asked him, “Why the strict rule…lack of A/C?”
“No. Lou is paranoid of the girls stealing from him. He wants to make sure that they do not leave with anything that they did not bring with them.”
“Ok, I understand the logic, but why not leave the panties on?” I asked.
He looked at me like I was stupid…which I am...and said, “Frank, the working girls here are magicians, you know that? They can make a blender or toaster disappear inside their panties in three seconds! Panties are like camouflage for these girls. Panties are like a boat tarp for them…a tent, a trampoline. They use their panties to hide guns, saws, and motorcycles inside of them.”
After he left, another expat sat down at the bar, Alabama Gary. You may remember Alabama Gary? Last we spoke of him; I think he was trying to serenade a heifer. That didn’t go so well. Gary has since changed his ways, seen the light, modified his behavior, and now chases only girls from the campo.
Last time I saw him, Superbowl Sunday, he came in with two twin sisters from Rio San Juan. The fact that they didn’t look like twins, nor act like twins, was totally lost on Gary. He was just happy to say that they were twins since this was the story that they fed him.
Alabama Gary had out his bottle of Viagra and Jack Daniels sitting out on the table in front of him. He was chewing on the Viagra like Flintstones vitamins while watching Seattle run away with the game. He asked the group of people sitting with him if they would like to have a Viagra pill while holding the bottle up and passing it around the table. He even asked me if I wanted some Viagra, but I tried telling him that I’m not even a registered voter. He didn’t care. He acted as if chewing on Viagra was the most natural thing ever.
Yesterday, Mikey, owner of the El Cid Lounge, in Massachusetts came in and sat at the bar. I’ve never seen a man go through a weight transformation as dramatically as Mikey has gone through in the last year. He has lost something like 80lbs in the last year and a half. That’s amazing. Our Irish musician, Cletus, only weighed 85lbs fully wet. So basically, Mikey has lost the equivalent of one Irish musician from his 350lbs frame.
Mikey told me a funny story about his bar, El Cid, in Massachusetts. A few years ago, someone tried to rob his bar. Two guys came in, robbed the place, and then took off in their getaway car down the street. He heard the car start to sputter as it got half way down the street. He took off running down the street after it. The car ran out of gas right in the middle of the street. No joke. It’s like something out of Groucho Marx movie. He ran up to the car with a baseball bat—not unlike Canadian Les, had in our first story here—only unlike Le’s situation, these guys either didn’t have guns, or didn’t have bullets in their guns. Mikey beat both guys with his bat and took his money off them before the cops arrived.
Apparently, however, the robbers had some extra money on them that was not part of Mikey’s bar. Mikey got that money unbeknownst to him. When they complained to the cops about this little unknown fact, the cops asked Mikey about it, and Mikey just shrugged his shoulders and said, “You know thieves like to lie.”
At the end of the day, the extra money was for making Mikey run down the street after them in his underwear, and was also the jump start to his new diet which is working in spades.
Frank
My redhead got into another accident last week on her scooter. It happened right in front of Sea Horse Ranch. She broke her wrist. I'm thinking about buying her a car in order to keep her healthy enough to keep giving me back massages. Unfortunately, she keeps charging me for back massages. Yes, i know, who charges their boyfriend for a back massage? I know, it's crazy. It's highway robbery. But with a broken wrist i get nothing...not even a hand job. So i got to keep her healthy. I got to get her a car.
So now, i need a car--not for me--for her. I don't like cars. But I want to give you an idea of how things work here in this country. I asked my cousin--who i grew up with--for a loan. One problem. I make very little money here.
Most of the people in this country make very little money. Most people are only making $8000 pesos a month.
Let's due some math: 8000/US$42= $190 a month, US $190 a month/ 160 hours a month= $1.19 an hour.
That's right, most of this country is making $1.19 an hour--and that's if they're working 40 hours a week. I based the above calculations on a 40 hour work week/160 hours a month.
My cousin--let's call him M--owns a lot of businesses here--including three finance banks. He loans out money at 3%- 3.5% a month (36% to 40% a year). He doesn't do car loans or small loans. Too much headache. I asked him for a loan so that the redhead stops crashing into people with her scooter and breaking things. Teeth are expensive! He said, "Sure, because we're close cousins, i can give you a loan at 2%.
"A month?" i asked, mouth open, dropping to the floor.
"Yes."
"But that's 24% a year, man!" i answered, proud of my math skills.
"Yeah, but that's 12% lower then anyone else." he answering chuckling.
Great, i got a cousin who is willing to cut me a deal and give me a loan at the fantastic rate of only 24% a year!
Frank
So now, i need a car--not for me--for her. I don't like cars. But I want to give you an idea of how things work here in this country. I asked my cousin--who i grew up with--for a loan. One problem. I make very little money here.
Most of the people in this country make very little money. Most people are only making $8000 pesos a month.
Let's due some math: 8000/US$42= $190 a month, US $190 a month/ 160 hours a month= $1.19 an hour.
That's right, most of this country is making $1.19 an hour--and that's if they're working 40 hours a week. I based the above calculations on a 40 hour work week/160 hours a month.
My cousin--let's call him M--owns a lot of businesses here--including three finance banks. He loans out money at 3%- 3.5% a month (36% to 40% a year). He doesn't do car loans or small loans. Too much headache. I asked him for a loan so that the redhead stops crashing into people with her scooter and breaking things. Teeth are expensive! He said, "Sure, because we're close cousins, i can give you a loan at 2%.
"A month?" i asked, mouth open, dropping to the floor.
"Yes."
"But that's 24% a year, man!" i answered, proud of my math skills.
"Yeah, but that's 12% lower then anyone else." he answering chuckling.
Great, i got a cousin who is willing to cut me a deal and give me a loan at the fantastic rate of only 24% a year!
Frank
Frank, it is a good deal. More than a decade a ago, my wife gave her cousin US$10,000 to use in his financing business in the DR. He was a medium sized lender and ran his father's cacao and coffee compra venta. He paid her 2% a month and loaned it for 4%. We cashed it out after a few years to help make the down payment on the house. Between that and the cows, they were they two best investments we have had.
Fisherman Charlie was in again yesterday, Sunday. He comes in a lot. He likes beer & women. Go figure. You remember fisherman Charlie—aka—“Good Time Charlie”; he is an eel fisherman here in the Dominican Republic, who along with his partner, Timmy, from Maine, catches eels and virgin mermaids in the rivers on the North Coast and then ships them to China. The Chinese in a roundabout way, employ Charlie & Timmy. I love Charlie. He is such a kind, soft spoken, wonderful human being who loves motorcycles and has driven his BMW 1200 all the way from Boston to Alaska after going out to purchase a six pack of beer, but kept on driving. True story!
If I was gay…I’m not…but I’m willing to learn for the right amount of money, baby!—I would marry Charlie. He loves motorcycles and virgin mermaids. What’s not to like about him? Unfortunately, he has a girlfriend, and so do I…sort of. She's more like a cross transgender cross-dresser with a bad perm.
Anyway, Good Time Charlie re-told me a story that I somehow forgot about. It goes like this: last year, a group of “fake” Dominican policemen (go figure)—wearing real police uniforms—came into his fishing compound with their guns drawn. They pretended that they were officials of this and that branch of the armed forces, and then proceeded to confiscate things from them—including boxes of eels (Dominicans eat eels? Who knew?); they also took some money—because let’s face it, what Dominican has getaway gas money on them? They also took some nick-knacks, and then tied up Charlie and Timmy. One problem, they gave Timmy a little roughing up…you know…just in case he forgot to give them all of his money, eels, and virgins. Then they took off.
Charlie called a General (I forget his name right now, but I will ask Charlie when I see him next) and told him what just went down. The general had two road blocks set up—one right outside Gaspar Hernandez; the other one right outside Cabarete.
Guess what? As the group approached the Gaspar Hernandez road block, they made a run for it. The police pursued them and shot one of them (just wounded him). All the others got caught. It costs Timmy and Charlie almost ten thousand dollars to keep them in jail until their court date—almost a year later.
Now they’ve just recently been prosecuted and got something like 10 years each in prison. Who says all Dominican love stories have a bad ending?
Frank
If I was gay…I’m not…but I’m willing to learn for the right amount of money, baby!—I would marry Charlie. He loves motorcycles and virgin mermaids. What’s not to like about him? Unfortunately, he has a girlfriend, and so do I…sort of. She's more like a cross transgender cross-dresser with a bad perm.
Anyway, Good Time Charlie re-told me a story that I somehow forgot about. It goes like this: last year, a group of “fake” Dominican policemen (go figure)—wearing real police uniforms—came into his fishing compound with their guns drawn. They pretended that they were officials of this and that branch of the armed forces, and then proceeded to confiscate things from them—including boxes of eels (Dominicans eat eels? Who knew?); they also took some money—because let’s face it, what Dominican has getaway gas money on them? They also took some nick-knacks, and then tied up Charlie and Timmy. One problem, they gave Timmy a little roughing up…you know…just in case he forgot to give them all of his money, eels, and virgins. Then they took off.
Charlie called a General (I forget his name right now, but I will ask Charlie when I see him next) and told him what just went down. The general had two road blocks set up—one right outside Gaspar Hernandez; the other one right outside Cabarete.
Guess what? As the group approached the Gaspar Hernandez road block, they made a run for it. The police pursued them and shot one of them (just wounded him). All the others got caught. It costs Timmy and Charlie almost ten thousand dollars to keep them in jail until their court date—almost a year later.
Now they’ve just recently been prosecuted and got something like 10 years each in prison. Who says all Dominican love stories have a bad ending?
Frank
Wait what? If someone robs me and gets caught, I have to pay to keep them in jail until a court date?
Fisherman Charlie was in again last night, Monday, and i was able to clarify some details about the his story that i got wrong:
The General that he called that set up the road blocks was General Rudolfo Pevialta. The General was in Santo Domingo when Charlie called him, and from there, General Rudolfo coordinated the roadblocks which caught the five men. The five men were all in police uniforms. They roughed Timmy pretty bad.
The other part of the story i got wrong was that Charlie wasn't actually there when the fake police showed up. Only Timmy was there. But one of the workers called Charlie when the fake police showed up; Charlie got there as the truck full of the fake police were pulling out. He passed them as they were pulling out of his compound.
Four men are in jail still awaiting sentencing next Wednesday. The robbery took place last February in what used to be "El Camino Del Sol"--east of Cabarete, before Isla Bon, on the way to La Boca river. All the robbers have all been sitting in prison for one year now.
Frank
The General that he called that set up the road blocks was General Rudolfo Pevialta. The General was in Santo Domingo when Charlie called him, and from there, General Rudolfo coordinated the roadblocks which caught the five men. The five men were all in police uniforms. They roughed Timmy pretty bad.
The other part of the story i got wrong was that Charlie wasn't actually there when the fake police showed up. Only Timmy was there. But one of the workers called Charlie when the fake police showed up; Charlie got there as the truck full of the fake police were pulling out. He passed them as they were pulling out of his compound.
Four men are in jail still awaiting sentencing next Wednesday. The robbery took place last February in what used to be "El Camino Del Sol"--east of Cabarete, before Isla Bon, on the way to La Boca river. All the robbers have all been sitting in prison for one year now.
Frank
Good question; it's been bothering me all day; i've been trying to get a hold of Charlie to find out the answer. Well, the answer is here now. This is how it works here in the land of Flintstones and Fred & Barney Rebel:
Charlie & Timmy have to pay their lawyer to keep track of their case--repetitiously fighting the release of the five men, repeatedly showing up to court (four times in one year) to fight the release of the robbers. Their lawyers are fighting for their release.
Because here, in this fantastic judicial system that rivals the Romans, it's up to the victim of the crime to both file the charges against the robbers, and continuously fight the release of the robbers until they are prosecuted. In the states, or another civilized country, the prosecution takes over the case and files the charges. Not here. Not in this country. We're too advanced for that crazy system.
Charlie and Timmy have so far paid US $5000 to their lawyer to keep showing up to court, and challenging the robbers lawyers for their release; he also has to keep on top of the case until finally, this Wednesday (one year later), they will face sentencing.. Let's see what kind of sentence they get?
Is it any wonder why people get frustrated with the Napoleonic system here in the DR. The judicial system here is like traveling back in time to the Dark Ages--back when things operated on a different time table. To understand the logic here, you need a Time Machine to travel back in time in order to get a better glimpse into the logic of the Dominican judicial system (as if there was any).
So, there you have it...Tomorrow, we will find out if the US $5000 to keep the robbers incarcerated was worth it?
Frank
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Umm I might be going out on a limb here, but
It's cheaper to shoot them and feed em to the pigs!
Holy **** what a Fcuking mess that is!
It's cheaper to shoot them and feed em to the pigs!
Holy **** what a Fcuking mess that is!
I'm sure it does, was just offering a suggestion
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xUynRdzzsM&feature=youtube_gdata_player
In another thread, I was talking about cruise ship work; I used to work on cruise ships, twelve years in fact. Cruise ships gave me herpes and made me fat.
Recently, we had my favorite and best waitress, Jenny, leave to go and work on cruise ships. I think she got a job on Carnival cruise ships, but who knows? There is no actual way of telling because when you ask any of the wait staff at work which company she works for, not one of them can remember the name.
This always perplexes me. How is that, no matter how many times someone tells our employees where they are from and what their name is, not one of them can remember unless it sounds Latin. This is a phenomenon like no other. I swear, we have customers who have been coming in for 10 years. Ten years! And not one of the wait staff can remember where they are from or even what their name is. I’ve been working here six years, and I don’t think one person at work could tell you that I’m from Ohio despite everyone hearing it numerous times throughout the day after customers repeatedly ask me, “Where are you from?”
Back to Jenny. Jenny was not only one of our best waitresses, but also one of my favorite people in the world. She was calm, patient, hard-working, and always on time. When she went for the cruise ship interview in Puerto Plata last August, she was nervous. Very nervous. The interviews took place back in August of 2013. She finally got called back and told that she was hired and that she would be called when something became available. Four months later, in December, she got called back and is now working on a cruise ship.
When I got back here in October, she told me all about her interview. She was still waiting for the call. She was nervous. She has a husband and two children. They live at the top of highway 5, where the turn off is for the Teleferico, and where you can look down over Puerto Plata on top of a long steep highway that runs about 4 miles from the top of highway 5 to Playa Dorado.
Jenny asked me about what to expect from cruise ship work, but she especially wanted reassurance about whether or not it was the right choice to make. I reassured her about her choice and told her it was. She was very relieved. She had never been off the island. I don’t even think she has even been to the south part of the island except to get her passport.
Jenny, like a lot of Dominicans, has never traveled farther then the North Coast of this island. She does not have a car, or a motorcycle, or a donkey, and therefore, like millions of Dominicans, only travels back in forth in Guagas. She mostly travels from her home to Cabarete to work. That’s it. That was the extent of her traveling experience.
One of the funniest, most interesting experiences that I remember of Jenny was when I brought a weight scale into work two years ago (I brought in again last year as well). Everyone got into a long congo line outside our kitchen and took turns weighing themselves. It was one of the most fascinating, absurd, and funny experiences I have ever had on this island.
We have 24 employees. Most have never weighed themselves. The ones that have done it, have not weighed themselves in decades. Some can never remember ever being weighed even once. Everyone stood in line patiently for their turn to get weighed outside the kitchen. They would call people over and tell them to look at the scale...they were fascinated and mesmerized by how the scale could tell them how much they weighed. It was if it was magic. It was if they were standing on top of a Time Machine. No one understood how it worked. No one understood why it worked. They were completely and utterly captivated by it.
Everyone would weigh themselves, and then ask me 30 minutes later to bring the scale back in order to re-weigh themselves. They were expecting their weight to change from hour to hour. When I took it away, and took it back home, they begged me to bring it back so that they could weigh their friends and family on it.
Out of all our female employees, Edelina and Mary were the lightest at around 110lbs, and Jenny was the heaviest at around 170lbs. But, in fairness to Jenny, she stands around 5’10. She is very tall.
Frank
Recently, we had my favorite and best waitress, Jenny, leave to go and work on cruise ships. I think she got a job on Carnival cruise ships, but who knows? There is no actual way of telling because when you ask any of the wait staff at work which company she works for, not one of them can remember the name.
This always perplexes me. How is that, no matter how many times someone tells our employees where they are from and what their name is, not one of them can remember unless it sounds Latin. This is a phenomenon like no other. I swear, we have customers who have been coming in for 10 years. Ten years! And not one of the wait staff can remember where they are from or even what their name is. I’ve been working here six years, and I don’t think one person at work could tell you that I’m from Ohio despite everyone hearing it numerous times throughout the day after customers repeatedly ask me, “Where are you from?”
Back to Jenny. Jenny was not only one of our best waitresses, but also one of my favorite people in the world. She was calm, patient, hard-working, and always on time. When she went for the cruise ship interview in Puerto Plata last August, she was nervous. Very nervous. The interviews took place back in August of 2013. She finally got called back and told that she was hired and that she would be called when something became available. Four months later, in December, she got called back and is now working on a cruise ship.
When I got back here in October, she told me all about her interview. She was still waiting for the call. She was nervous. She has a husband and two children. They live at the top of highway 5, where the turn off is for the Teleferico, and where you can look down over Puerto Plata on top of a long steep highway that runs about 4 miles from the top of highway 5 to Playa Dorado.
Jenny asked me about what to expect from cruise ship work, but she especially wanted reassurance about whether or not it was the right choice to make. I reassured her about her choice and told her it was. She was very relieved. She had never been off the island. I don’t even think she has even been to the south part of the island except to get her passport.
Jenny, like a lot of Dominicans, has never traveled farther then the North Coast of this island. She does not have a car, or a motorcycle, or a donkey, and therefore, like millions of Dominicans, only travels back in forth in Guagas. She mostly travels from her home to Cabarete to work. That’s it. That was the extent of her traveling experience.
One of the funniest, most interesting experiences that I remember of Jenny was when I brought a weight scale into work two years ago (I brought in again last year as well). Everyone got into a long congo line outside our kitchen and took turns weighing themselves. It was one of the most fascinating, absurd, and funny experiences I have ever had on this island.
We have 24 employees. Most have never weighed themselves. The ones that have done it, have not weighed themselves in decades. Some can never remember ever being weighed even once. Everyone stood in line patiently for their turn to get weighed outside the kitchen. They would call people over and tell them to look at the scale...they were fascinated and mesmerized by how the scale could tell them how much they weighed. It was if it was magic. It was if they were standing on top of a Time Machine. No one understood how it worked. No one understood why it worked. They were completely and utterly captivated by it.
Everyone would weigh themselves, and then ask me 30 minutes later to bring the scale back in order to re-weigh themselves. They were expecting their weight to change from hour to hour. When I took it away, and took it back home, they begged me to bring it back so that they could weigh their friends and family on it.
Out of all our female employees, Edelina and Mary were the lightest at around 110lbs, and Jenny was the heaviest at around 170lbs. But, in fairness to Jenny, she stands around 5’10. She is very tall.
Frank
Update about Fisherman Charlie & Timmy:
They had their court case finally yesterday. The judge or judges unsealed the documents in front of the court and inspected each piece of evidence. Then the judges went back into a chamber to deliberate the evidence. The road block had caught five men--two with 9mm handguns, one with a pump shotgun. One guy had a military uniform on. One guy was shot during a brief chase. All five went to jail. One of the five men--the one in a military uniform--was let go about four or five months ago and his charges were dropped. The other four sat in prison for slightly over one year. The 2.5 kilos of eels that they stole from Charlie & Timmy were never recovered...used apparently in a Soncocho soup at a wedding.
The judge or judges deliberated for 15 minutes--most likely taking a nap, or drinking a Presidente beer, or watching a Novella...or all three. They returned back to the court room after 15min and dismissed all charges and let all four men walk free. All four men were crying. All of them were around 30yrs of age according to Timmy & Charlie.
So, there you have it...Dominican Justice in a Nutshell.
Frank
They had their court case finally yesterday. The judge or judges unsealed the documents in front of the court and inspected each piece of evidence. Then the judges went back into a chamber to deliberate the evidence. The road block had caught five men--two with 9mm handguns, one with a pump shotgun. One guy had a military uniform on. One guy was shot during a brief chase. All five went to jail. One of the five men--the one in a military uniform--was let go about four or five months ago and his charges were dropped. The other four sat in prison for slightly over one year. The 2.5 kilos of eels that they stole from Charlie & Timmy were never recovered...used apparently in a Soncocho soup at a wedding.
The judge or judges deliberated for 15 minutes--most likely taking a nap, or drinking a Presidente beer, or watching a Novella...or all three. They returned back to the court room after 15min and dismissed all charges and let all four men walk free. All four men were crying. All of them were around 30yrs of age according to Timmy & Charlie.
So, there you have it...Dominican Justice in a Nutshell.
Frank