The Dominican Hot Hooker myth is just that- a myth.
a trip to the D.R. is a wish the heart makes: greatness, at any cost. when I’m making my consumption choices, I employ a discerning eye to seek out the crummiest, flimsiest, and crappiest of everything. the condo right above the dumpster. the annie cruz compilation dvd. if it isn’t the worst possible choice, I can't be bothered. because I probably can’t afford it.
the place is a lot like childhood or minimum security prison: they talk about it like its magical when you're in it you can't wait to get out. the urinary tract infection of vacation destinations with the added benefit law enforcement is both weak and corrupt. an opulent folk small in stature, smaller in mind, culturally bankrupt, around midnight they come out and set off a lot of firecrackers to celebrate their legacy of colonial shame.
the viagra brigade predators aren't difficult to spot: pair of overweight euro or american men age 60-70 having time of their lives in a bar while with a few bored or scared 13 y/o brown girls or boys, - the poverty which impels crack users to thieve is also relevant to those families who sell their childrens' services.
Do's & Don'ts sectionDO take recent photographs of your children with you so it will be easier to identify and claim their bodies later.
DONT let the wife or g/f pack anything shiny, it can stir up a response with the natives. earrings or foil wrappers = exploratory bite. watch = machete & bye bye hand. sparkly shoes or handbag and its stab-stab-stab, she staggers, stab-stab, now she's looking at her hand like 'is that blood', stab-stab, she drops, stab-stab-stab, stab, and its "thank you very much julius ceasar and my goodness aren't these shoes look lovely - size 8? yes? no? yes? no? maybe? can I get a hint?"
excellent scuba, btw.
* the preceding was, again, sarcasm masking deep hurt.