Well, maybe it wasn’t the best ocean cruise in history, but it was certainly great. In case you’re wondering where I’ve been… my first mate and I recently returned from a lengthy excursion to the sun-drenched Caribbean, where I was drenched in rum for nearly two weeks! Avast, me hearties and pickle my liver! We had a lot of fun in the sun and did some great snorkeling. (Only one drawback, it was difficult getting that dang straw under my mask.)

We first dropped anchor on the enchanting isle of Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic. The city’s history dates back to the early 16th century, when Spanish colonists founded a small settlement for which they paid the inhabitants one dish of paella, two tortillas, a slab of Jamon Iberico, and a bowl of gazpacho. (or maybe not)

In any case, we spent a lovely day luxuriating at a beachside resort and sampling the local cuisine with some new friends from Texas. By the way, for you geography nerds, Puerto Plata translates to “silver port” in English, and was so-named by none other than Chris Columbus. (Who, I think, might have also discovered Columbus, Ohio)

Our second stop was in vibrant San Juan, Puerto Rico, where I go from time to time to visit my hubcaps. (Just kidding, there is very little crime on the island. The water is a different story.) Anyway, lots of interesting history down yonder and some spectacular mojitos. The weather, luckily, was a 10 and once again we were able to play in the surf. After another beach break, we crawled back to the ship and sailed down to gorgeous Tortola. The island, as I’m sure you’ve heard is very lush. (There were also a few lushes on the beach!)

Enchanting Gustavia, the capital of St. Barts, was our next port of call. It was here that I realized why the term “port of call” came to be. Everyone was on their damn cell phones making calls! Who the heck are these people calling? Beats me, but the whole island was on the phone. Well, not everyone. I wasn’t. I was too busy taking nature photographs of some scantily-clad French chicks. I didn’t “develop” any friendships. A lot of those cute Frenchies were topless, but so was I, so I didn’t complain.

St. Barts is actually quite small. (except the prices) The island is only 11 miles long and 2.5 miles wide, so you can drive around the entire island in about 30 minutes. (If you can afford a $200 cab ride!) We spent the entire day at a charming resort called Le Barthelemy, situated on a tranquil beach in Grand Cal de Sac. (Photos attached below) The joint was really top notch, and the food and drink tres magnifique.

For those of you still following my illustrious poker career, allow my to mention that later that evening yours truly won first place in the poker tournament sponsored by Regent Cruises. The prize money was, how shall I say it, beaucoup d’argent. (a lot of loot) Unfortunately, my wife spent most of the prize money on some sort of glittering jewelry, which does not seem fair to me. Well, I was just glad that they didn’t pay the winners in francs. What the hell would I do with all of those hot dogs?

By the way, do you know why the French eat snails? (They detest fast food!) I was about to eat dinner at a French restaurant in town, but someone told me that the restaurant served POISSON! No joke, you have to be careful what you eat on St. Barts. Sacre bleu, who knew?

Yikes, I just realized that last Friday was the 13th! Did you know that if a black cat crosses your path, it means the cat is going somewhere? Well, on that Im-purr-fect note, I shall bid y’all adieu. I would write more, but I have to finish my new mystery novel. Incidentally, do you realize that the best murder weapon would be a Tupperware lid? You know why? Because nobody would ever be able to find it!

Shiver me timbers and amour to all,

Doc Yanoff

P.S. Enticing photography below!