Mas caliente que tu

"Let's go!"

And with that we left our friends with the ever-entertaining French pirate and headed back to our rooms to freshen up. What a group! Some sassy cougars (C and S), a darling small-town wide-eyed girl (J), a good girl (yours truly...or that's how I pictured myself), and a friendly glamazon (L).

We were staying at the Occidental Grand Flamenco in Puerto Plata, right in the Playa Dorada complex. Just down the street was Mangu at the old Jack Tar village. The night was young and Mangu was just opening (11pm) and it would not be Puerto Plata if we did not check this place out. The only bar that let locals mix with the tourists within the complex. Enough of the French pirates and the other Europeans. Bring on the Dominicans!

Personally, I was uber excited. I was already on a music high ever since we landed, merengue and bachata all around me! Seeing the locals living in the music was an incredible experience. Now I would get to see them show how merengue and bachata are truly danced.

The cougars came out in crazy heels and as a result we had to take a 2 minute taxi ride down to the club. Thanks to our resort bracelets we got in without any cover, but it made me wonder how much they normally charge the locals. But before we stepped in:

"Be easy on these guys, girls. They fall for outsiders easily. They'll promise you the world just to keep you" a friend warned. Inside I groaned and snickered all at the same time. I can't stand it when people get all patronizing and lecture me on things I already know, but I am usually good at biting my lip. And "fall for outsiders?" As if she did not actually mean that they love sleeping with outsiders. Was she speaking from experience? It sure sounded like it. But, you know, open mind open mind open mind. Let's run with the generalization that Latinos are hugely family-oriented and with that they would never disrespect women. Benefit of the doubt.

So just past the security bouncers was a large open area with a DJ behind his turntables at the other end. It was dead, to boot. This was what we came for? Our own resort disco was more jumping than this!

But I was so wrong. The cougars (could you tell they had been here before?) gathered us up and led us through the doors on the side. Now this was a club. Great lights, multiple bars, circular dance floor, not a whole lot of booths but what are you going to do at a club but dance, right? Oh what? Is that a cage over in the corner? We had to step aside as a midget man in a beret and kilt walked past carrying a box of cerveza over his shoulder. I know I should say "vertically-challenged" but I'm just too lazy to type all that out.

As we lined up to order drinks (there was just something that made me bitter about paying for drinks after getting spoiled at an all-inclusive only a few days into the week)a mega-tall woman walked by. The glamazon and I exchanged looks.

"They've got women taller than me here!" and I nodded in agreement. But halfway through my nod we realized the amazon lady was a dude! A dragazon, if you will!

Here I was, in this tiny Caribbean country, and I was seeing things that I have never seen in Calgary: city of a million-plus.

And from then on all week we would say "it ain't a party without a drag queen and a midget."

Later, the midget dressed down to jeans and no shirt and the dragazon entertained, dancing in the cage. Craziness.

Oh, the dancing! I just watched in awe. This was like SoHo multiplied by 5,000 times the allure. All of a sudden S was grabbing my hand and leading me over to one of the local guys. It was like her mission to get everyone out on the dance floor. I didn't resist. I wanted to dance. Merengue was easier than salsa and I felt pretty confident. So away we went and all was good.

Or so I thought. Being trained in something and being born with it are two totally different things, obviously, and I found myself flustered...thinking much too hard about following his lead. Alright, fine, I was having a bit of difficulty getting into the groove of things but then...

"I'm sorry. You can't merengue."

Did I hear him right? So much for having patience! I couldn't believe it. I have danced with my fair share of rhythmically-challenged people and worse but I have NEVER told them they suck to their face. Rarity of rarities, I took the higher road and thanked him for the dance, walking off the dance floor with a pinched ego. Pinched, not bruised.

Luckily for me, I was not a wallflower for very long. A tall, dark guy with the body of 50 Cent (but without the "duh!" face) came over to dance with me. Transition in the evening, the merengue music moved onto RnB and hiphop. Alright, I have not been "trained" in dancing to RnB and hiphop but I highly doubt anyone would ever tell me that I can't dance it. "Only You" by 112 came on and, though it's still somewhat uptempo, he held me close and serenaded me. But, um, serenading and grinding seem kind of incongruent.

Where do I go? What must I do 'cuz I can't live without your love? Thinking of you makes me feel like you are the only one for me

His name was Ariel (Like the little mermaid, I thought) and he worked in Internet Services at the Marien Coral. Coincidentally, I had just stopped by the Marien Coral that day. To prove this (did I look skeptical?) he showed me his staff ID. I don't know what it is with guys always showing me some form of ID. It reminds me of that time in Toronto when John opened his wallet and showed me his AHC card to back the fact that he used to live in Alberta.

Then another song came on, and frankly I can't remember what the other songs were after Only You. He started to bump with me and normally I think that dance is kind of immature. Whenever I've been at the clubs here in Calgary and some drunken fool starts bumping me I get all disgusted. Besides, who knows why they think it's making them look sexy? It certainly doesn't do anything for me. But this time...there was a *cough* "rock hard penis" as J was prone to repeating numerous times throughout the evening. Yes, my 50 Cent was not the only guy dancing with a "rock hard penis," apparently.

But yes, a "rock hard penis" (I will keep typing that out to sort of reenact how J sounded the whole evening.) makes the stupid bump dance move pretty, er, interesting. Or maybe Ariel and I were just the right height for things 'cuz it had me feeling pretty good. *blush*

Ok, off the dancefloor I went. I needed a breather. Along came J with her "rock hard penis" experience. FYI: J is married to a farmer much akin to a Hutterite colony. Married should mean that she knows all about "rock hard penis(es)" but I guess she's not used to other men's "rock hard penis(es)" which would make sense.

I lost Ariel somehow, alas. Along came another guy, not very built and not as tall. His name was Antonio and he worked for the Pizza Hut at the Playa Dorada Complex. Again, he showed me his staff ID. It must be a common thing to do over there. He, too, had a "rock hard penis" though it wasn't as impressive(?) No, I can't think of the right word right now. Anyway, here I was, thinking that I was being a pretty good girl. It wasn't my fault these guys were in a perpetually aroused state ("rock hard penis," for good measure). J just proved it wasn't just me, not that I am that vain to think such a thing, so me dancing with these guys is just some good innocent holiday fun.

Then Antonio kissed me, and he's not even that good of a kisser! In fact, he's kind of a sloppy kisser. But the little devil on my shoulder got together with the little angel on my other shoulder and both said "screw it, you're on a trip!" So, I kissed back. Just like the bump move here in Calgary, it wasn't doing much for me. Truth be told dancing with Ariel did more for me than kissing with Antonio. If I had been a good girl I wouldn't have just went along with it, but I did.

We danced/kissed for a little longer when he took my hand and led me across the dance floor. In the back of my mind I had an idea of what he was up to but I let him have the benefit of the doubt. We were also headed towards the bar where the original bartender (the lady who served us our drinks) had been replaced by a hot HOT guy in a wifebeater that my friends had been raving about. It was a good opportunity to check out what the fuss was all about. I had to agree. That bartender guy looked like Hotness-a-la-mode. Unfortunately, we walked past the bar...which meant he wasn't looking to buy me a drink and my initial instincts were right. *sigh* I stopped in my tracks, let go of his hand, and started walking back to where we had been.

What's wrong?
I'm staying with my friends.
How come?
I'm not leaving the club.
Alright

And with that he took my hand again and led me through the crowd around the dance floor (the long way) back to my friends. Once we got back L saw Antonio latched onto me and asked "ready to go?" Very much so!

I told him I was leaving, but either he didn't hear me or he pretended that he didn't as his arms wrapped me up from behind and he started kissing my neck.

You want to go and dance again?
No, I told you my friends are ready to go.

But just as I said that J got pulled onto the dance floor again by another "rock hard penis." Great woman, but she seemed to be having the best time she's ever had in ages so she wasn't fighting to leave the club at any point soon. She would never cheat on her husband, though, so we weren't all too concerned. But what about me?!

Your friend is dancing now. You can dance a little more.
No,no, we're going really soon.
Leah, I like you. Ok? (There it was!!! What my friend had warned me all about! Was this guy for real? No no no no no...it must still be all about getting me into bed.)
Ok
Will you come see me tomorrow? I will be at work. (Pizza Hut.)
I don't know. We've got some plans for tomorrow already.
Please come and see me. (*sigh* It doesn't matter where I am in the world. The pansies still manage to find me.)
I'm not promising anything. Maybe, (not really) but don't wait for me.

L managed to wrangle J from her dance partner and S was ready to go (no luck for her) while C had managed to find 2 young Germans from our resort to accompany us back.

We all got ready to pile into a taxi-van when S insisted that this time we would walk. Was she nuts? She gave our taxi away to another group and started walking. C dragged at the end of our line and kicked off her heels for better stability in the darkness and her alcohol-influenced state. We must have been a sight. The 10-minute walk took, I'm sure, a good 20 minutes or more. All the while, S kept gushing about me and Antonio, though I sensed a bit of catty jealousy on her part. (Later that week, she actually asked us "what does it take for a girl to get laid around here?" So if there was any doubt as to why she was always looking for an opportunity to hit the bars or meet the locals, the disillusionment was swiftly lifted.)

"Oooooh, did that guy ever like you! He was on you like white on rice. *chuckling to herself about her little analogy* White on rice, don't you get it?"

"White on rice" soon became the new "rock hard penis." The next morning at breakfast S was still telling the rest of our group about how Antonio was on me like "white on rice."

It looks like Antonio bet on the wrong girl. If he had wanted to have some fun that night he should have chosen S. Not to speak ill of S's virtue, but at least we knew what she was after.

Other than that, Mangu was fantastic. I would highly recommend it to anyone going to the Dominican Republic in the next little while.