Una Vez Al Año No Hace Daño ;)

Whether traveling or stateside, I try to keep crackhead and crackwhore interactions to a minimum. I feel like that’s reasonable. Smart life choices and shit.

But every now and then a drug addict ends up on your front steps for one reason or another. Without you knowing it. And then the magic happens.

Or you freak the fuck out and go yell at your doorman. Either. Or. It’s really up to you.

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See, What Had Happened Was…

We were in the Dominican Republic finishing up a three-month tour of the country. We’d partied our balls off in Santiago and Santo Domingo. I went to a wedding in Punta Cana. We even enjoy a brief getaway to the beach in Juan Dolio with a few stunning Dominicanas.

Dos Mami Chulas y Los Gringos. Ya Tu Sabes 😉

Now, we were finishing things up with a week at the beach in Las Terrenas before heading home for Christmas.

Las Terrenas was an interesting place. I’ve yet to find prettier beaches anywhere in Latin America. It’s truly a paradise.

Squad Heavy, Especially El Gordo!

One of my best travel memories was cruising around the beaches on an ATV with some Dominican homies on the back showing me all the secret spots.


Nowhere is perfect. Las Terrenas has an ugly underbelly. It’s fairly common to see 70-year-old Italian men with teenage Dominican or Haitian girls. A fucking disgusting sight to behold.

Las Terrenas is filled with sex tourism. If you have white skin, they’ll assume you’re in Las Terrenas to fuck hookers. It’s gross, but that’s the way things are. Whatever.

Some Weird Shit

We went out one night and quickly realized the situation. So we decided to focus on tourism the rest of the week and simply relax. No more partying. No more “Lava Flow” for the week.

But, we couldn’t get away from it. No matter how hard we tried.

One night we ended up in the middle of a parade in the center of Las Terrenas. A Carnivale-like atmosphere, people were in costumes. Lots of drinking and dancing took place.

My friends and I got mixed up. We couldn’t find each other. So, we all went home. We reconvened on the balcony.

Hideous Balcony Views!

My boy rolled a joint and we decided to smoke a little while staring at the ocean. The waves rolled in and we got stoned just before bed.

I’m no stoner, but it was incredibly relaxing. We were zoning out while Romeo Santos played in the background. That Dominican lifestyle and shit.

Then we head a knock on the door. The fuck?!

We looked at each other. “Did you invite somebody here?” We were all confused. Nah, bro.

Then a meek voice spoke up in broken English, “You smoke weed?”

What the hell is going on? We walked to our balcony door. Maybe it was our friendly French neighbor. We’d been friendly with her all week, as she had given us some great tourism tips.

So we opened the door. Only to find it wasn’t our French neighbor standing there…

One Hideous Human

Standing before us was what I could only describe as a disgusting looking human being.

She stood about 5’4″ and probably weighed 95 pounds. Her hair was mangled and sweat was running down her forehead.

It looked like she let a 12-year-old transvestite selected her outfit for the day. I guess you could call it crackwhore chic. Oh, and she was missing 3-4 of her front teeth.

It got worse. I can’t make this up. She was legit twitching a bit and scratching her skin.

Fuck. We were stoned and didn’t know what the hell was going on. So we had flung the door open and she made her way on our private balcony.

After about 15 seconds of her begging for free weed, we were able to regain some modicum of composure. She was such a revolting person that it took awhile to snap out of the disgust.

And then the questions began:

  • Who the fuck are you?
  • How did you get here?
  • Who let you in?

My boys were fluent in Spanish and started grilling her. She claimed she stalked us and followed us back from the parade because we were the only white guys there.

Then she told our doorman that she knew us, and he let her straight in. Talk about security!

After our questions were answered, we told her to get the fuck out. Of course, she wanted weed, money, or both. Nah, crackwhore. Go home.

We began gently escorting her out of the balcony area and to the door. In a last attempt to stay and smoke weed, she started offering her pussy up. Hell Nah. Take your crackwhore ass outta here!

Trouble in Paradise!

After throwing up in our mouths, we threw her out and escorted her back to the exit where the doorman was stationed.

We made sure her revolting ass got kicked out and had left.

What Was You Thinking?!

After everyone’s favorite crackwhore had left, we turned to the doorman. What the hell was that?

He was shocked. My boys were yelling and cursing at him in Spanish, but he was confused.

Everyone settled down and he started to explain what had happened.

She stalked us back to the complex and told him that she was our friend. As every other Western male in the complex brought disgusting whores around all the time, it seemed normal to him.

Hay Muchos Perros En Las Terrenas…

So he let her in.

He truly thought he was doing us a favor allowing her to come up. We were baffled. Not a single security concern ran through his mind during this ordeal.

It never ran across his mind that three digital nomads have thousands of dollars in electronics sitting in their apartment and letting a random person up could result in a dangerous situation.

Although, that’s probably a good thing.

The issue is robberies are all too common in beach towns in the Dominican Republic. A thief simply bribes the doorman and then gives him a cut on the way out. It’s pretty simple really, and we knew it.

We’d heard horror stories of travelers being held at gunpoint in their beachside apartments while the doorman stood outside. So we freaked.

Overall, it was just another day on the road where weird shit is bound to happen all the time. While I strive to stay away from crackwhores, sometimes it’s just unavoidable…

Una vez al año no hace daño 😉

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Jake Nomada

Travel junkie turned blogger. Location independent. From the Midwest, but often based in Latin America. Big on beaches, rumba, and rum. Addicted to the gym. Committed to showing a different style of travel - one that involves actually interacting with locals and exploring different cultures.

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Josh Bar - September 28, 2017

I’m all about the unbeaten path and marinating with the locals, for an authentic experience. The danger adds to the excitement.
What’s the alternative? Hanging out in a resort for 3 days and saying “I’ve been There.

Some places are called tourist traps for a reason and things can go side ways quickly. The local police and “security” can be 3rd rate at best, sometimes they are the ones you have to watch out for.

Knowing the local language and traveling with someone goes a long way .
But sometimes you can’t avoid the inevitable,shit happens. Pero ya to sabes una vez al ano no hace dano

    NomadicJake - September 28, 2017

    Josh Bar back in the building!

    I agree 100%. You gotta get off the beaten path a bit and mingle. See how the locals live and find out if a city is for you. If not, no worries. Pack up the bags and find somewhere else to check out.

    Security can either be your best friends or your worst enemy in many places. I’ve had Colombian security guards pull huge favors for me for a few pesos in return. Also, had some pull bonehead moves that require me to chew em’ out.

    Live and learn. Hope all is well, man.

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