Pirates of the Caribbean, Part 1

Greetings from sunny, uh, make that wet and windy Labadie, Haiti. Or is it Labadee, Haiti. If T-shirts are the local equivalent of a dictionary, both island spellings appear correct.

On February 14th, I went ashore in a driving rain, my mission to explore this strange land of poverty and misfortune, and perhaps add a small bit of hope to some poor wretch in the form of good old Yankee dollars. Even in the rain, they were laying in wait to ambush my wallet. I never saw it coming.

Have you EVER gone ashore in what has to be considered the 3rd world and found "tourist" prices above incomprehensible? Try an opening gambit of $24 for a cotton T-shirt.....what have these folks been smoking? And foolish me, armed only with my naive innocence and a twenty dollar bill. The picture (notice the raindrop on the lens, lower left) depicts the "Artisan Village", which I later learned was off the "official Royal Caribbean" campus, hence the lair of brigands and thieves (I'd say pirates, but the Somalian version clearly eclipsed this motley crewe). Of course, everybody wanted to take me by the arm and show me their wares, and with few other cruise participants around, I did feel a bit nervous to be honest. Sort of like a black man might feel in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. But I did my best to spend the money and escape with change, however my thoughts of finding Mexico-like prices (where I've been able to find 'two for $10' easily) were dashed. Ultimately, I managed two for $16, but they wouldn't go for 'three for twenty', so back to the ship with two T-shirts, both spelling Labadee/Labadie differently. I shall keep one for myself and send the other to my dear friend of forty years past, who started me on this blog thing. Oh yeah, that was the day I won the "wet T-shirt contest" by default. My wife watched her drowned rat returning on the pier from the shelter of our stateroom balcony - proof that however brave a man can be, a woman is always smarter.