Round the world in 193 Days - The Kelly Lang Experience travel blog

Another day, another sunset with my sweet camera

Habachi time with our friend Oscar

International celebration - bring on the mamajuana

Helma sporting her new base tan

Holding up a tree

Oh man did I feel good after a 9 hour sleep in the humongous king sized bed of suite 6110. The company was not bad either, let me tell ya. Once ready for breakfast we stepped outside to be greeted by our new best friend, John P. Humidity. “Welcome to the Caribbean,” he said. “F U man” responded the sweat bead forming on my head.

The spread at the World Café was enough to make even me wonder if I was game. It was like going to a grocery store where all the food was already open and ready to eat. I took a deep breath and did a lap to assess the situation. It was clear that there were two types of sausages that required my immediate attention, so I chopped them up and took made my way over to the omelet man. Cheese, bacon, and tomatoes joined the party and with the simple words, “Egg whites only please,” I sanctioned the creation of an omelet masterpiece. Helma did her part by getting an omelet of her own as well as a sampler plate of crepes, pancakes and French toast. We were a well oiled buffet scouring team. With the perimeter secured, we laid out all the pieces of the puzzle. Our table looked like it had given birth to a litter of 7 baby breakfasts, all filled with energy (calories) and barking, “Eat me!” It was clear to onlookers that this was not our first rodeo. Careful not to eat too much of any one food, we finished pulled back on the reins just before getting uncomfortably full. Then it was time to beach ourselves.

I knew that with Helma as my wingwoman, I was going to be expected to partake in pretty serious regiment of lying out on beach chairs. However, after gazing at my milky white complexion in the mirror that morning, I knew it was for the best. With a full body rub down of sunscreen, I was ready to face the hot, hot, hot Dominican sun. We found a cozy little cabana that provided a view of nothing but beach, sky and palm trees and I began my quest to make more vitamin D than ever before. Over the next few hours our lifeless bodies became darker and darker. The only breaks we took were to place drink orders and get some beach BBQ from the grill station residing a couple palm trees to the left of us.

When the sun had gone down and the moon had come up, we donned our dinner apparel and made our way to the Japanese restaurant. This was apparently pretty serious business because guys were required to wear long pants. I know, it’s harsh, but you have to play by the rules sometimes. Our company for dinner was couple from England (Josh and Holly) whom we liked immediately and another group consisting of a mother, 2 sons and a daughter. They sat on the far end of the table and had scowls on their faces that led me to believe they were all pissed that the eldest son had taken all the good genes. Not deterred, Helma began pumping up the party enough for all 4 of them. It turned out that it was Josh’s birthday and to celebrate in true Dominican style we must have had at least three shots of what the natives call mamajuana. The literal translation is something along the lines of “Dominican Viagra” or so I was told. . . and later experienced – hiii ooooooo!

After this level of commitment to the evening, there was only one thing to do: dance like no one was watching. And so we did. Helma and I stormed the Dreams club and broke out salsa and Bachata until my exertion pushed sweat levels far past disgusting. Partner dancing cooled down at that point but I still had dance fever and my feet were showing it. They propelled my awkward white body from side to side and after a short time I apparently caught the eye of one of the club staff. She pulled me into the circle that had been host to generations of goofy white guys before me and since Billie Jean was playing, I decided it wise to moon walk my way into the empty space. As the adoring/hammered fans looked on, I proceeded to spin around once or twice and then grab my crotch just before busting out some serious break dancing that culminated in me sprawled out on my back, frozen in time and forever etched in the minds of those around me. Game over son. With one more drink for the road, Helma and I headed back to play the bagpipes.

Good times were had by all.

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