Goin Dutch (part two)

For those of us keeping score, which i'm sure is a number between none and zero, we may remember the complete fiasco that was scoring gear on my last Caribbean adventure on the island of Hispainola, the swell island which is occupied on the left by the Dominican Republic and the right by Haiti, depending on which way you're looking of course, that whole process was a textbook case of sketchy shit, twitchy drug mules and language barriers and guys believing they should get all kinds of tips, they didn't understand there was a limit i would pay for shitty weed and that at some point i'll tell them to fuck themselves, which is sorta what happened last year, but of course Curacao is not the DR, and the former Dutch colony (and slave trading hub) had a bit more going for it than most of the little islands dotting this beautiful light blue sea...

I walked over to the back of the shed and opened my second beer, Ligi smiled and said here you go and handed me a little bag, i rolled it around in my hand and it felt good enough, handshake drugs, he smiled and i handed him the money, his incredibly sexy girlfriend was sitting on the wall to my right, she smiled and we talked about things, they wanted to know where i was from and what it was like there, he explained that if i needed anything else he could get it and asked if there was a way to contact me, i of course explained that i was down on a domestic type vacation and that certain members of my party wouldn't be down with my gangster shit and we laughed and his girl said, give him your number Ligi, you gotta cell phone here Kono, sure do i grinned, and i told her she was a fine woman for her quick thinking and we laughed and chatted some more and Ligi told me that if i needed anything, anything at all, that i should not hesitate to call, i smiled and told him that a few years back and i would have been handing him a grocery list of shit to get me, of course i wanted to ask if his girlfriend had a sister who looked like her as she sat there with her mocha legs crossed in cut- off jeans, a white t-shirt notted at the belly, her hair teased out into a funky afro, she was gorgeous, smartly i kept my mouth shut and she ran and grabbed a pen and wrote down the number for me and i shook Ligi's hand and his fair maiden gave me a hug and off i went...

Back at the resort i ambled through the crowd fingering my gear and thanking the stars for my luck, i took up the bottle of aloe and then locked myself in the can and cleaned some gear and rolled a joint, it was a little damp and i smelled it to make sure i wouldn't be getting more than i bargained for, all i needed was a little loveboat (grass dusted with angel dust) and the boyos would wonder what the fuck was wrong with the old dude, but it was nothing more than the gear not being properly cured, i cleaned more and made sure to leave the bag open to dry it a bit, it was the average Colombian brick, a bit stony and nothing like the norm but it did the trick... and in the end that's all i really wanted...

Of course i'd be remiss if i didn't do my fucking Lonely Planet shit and give a rundown of my little trip... In short it was fantastic, i did my fair share of snorkeling around different parts of the island, the boyos seem to dig it and their old man really does, we took a catamaran to couple of spots, one of the guys on the boat was a Dutch national who usually worked on the boat but his mom had flown over for his birthday so he had the day off, a great guy who loved baseball of all things and we laughed at how he loved baseball and i loved futbol, his mother was a lovely woman as well who seemed to like talking to the boyos, and Davey the dreadlocked dive-master seemed to hand me a little Polar beer every time he walked past, there was an old man who was the cook/bartender and he made some of the best ribs i have ever eaten, there was the most delicious peanut sauce i've ever had to drizzle over them, there was Caribbean chicken and red beans and rice..,

 Davey and i snorkeled between a large docked tanker and some smaller docks, it was a bit darker and the water was deeper, probably about 30 feet but i could still see the bottom except when i looked to my left where a trench started and was told that it quickly dropped off to about 100 meters or roughly 300 feet, i saw some Puffer fish and to many exotic fish swimming the reef to name, saw on old tugboat that had sunk, took another trip to a different wreck where a different dive-master ( a stand up bass player with a handle bar mustache and also Dutch) explained to me the different types of coral and what the colors meant and what was dead and what was alive, on that trip i had to swim back to the boat in the open ocean, a fucking trip where the current can quickly move you ten or twelve yards any way it wants in a second, looking down into the blue abyss i realized just how small and insignificant we humans are, having smoked to much dope and watched Jaws to many times can be a bad combination when dangling out there in the blue, but as on old surfer once said, what could be more organic than being eaten by a shark?

And then before knew i it i was packing my bags and getting up at 4am to catch a plane home, i will miss that island and i will miss the strange versions of songs played in the resort buffet, a weird mix of folk and island music, covers of songs by Michael Jackson (Smooth Criminal) New Order (Bizarere Love Triangle), Bob Marley (Stir it Up, Could You Be Loved),  Pet Shop Boys (West End Girls), Smashing Pumpkins (Today) Marvin Gaye (Mercy Mercy Me), and as much as i like my little adventures and showing the boyos new places and cultures, i always like coming back to the old gaff, to see my crazy cats and to admire the stash known as Little Amsterdam (christened such by those who'e seen it), back to the grind and the routine and very shortly here at the lounge, back to our regularly scheduled program...