Twisted Palms Rooftop Lounge (Puerto Vallarta)

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The Twisted Palms is a hip rooftop hideaway in Downtown Old Vallarta. A different film is projected every night on the wall and the prices are very kind to backpackers. 
Out front a sidewalk sign always announces the nightly features and drink specials and two nights ago the announcement read: $40 HOUSE MARTINIS ALL NIGHT and underneath A VIEW TO A KILL (JAMES BOND). 


Forty peso martinis plus James Bond movie was a no brainer; And Roger Moore, no less! After a quick stop at home I was back at the bar at seven o'clock (show time) and thrilled to learn that not only does the bartender/owner Al have house gin as opposed to all the other watering holes' mad devotion to the national Oso Negro vodka but Tanqueray is his house gin. Holy cow, hot damn, and wow! I was sold.

 

Began with a dry martini----hold the olives, gracias----followed by a cosmopolitan for a sugary counter to the popcorn and----don't think me a lush----finished the evening with a libidinous dessert in the form of a chocolate martini stirred and on the rocks. Shaking seems such a loud and vulgar way to make such an elegant drink, and in certain circles, such as Puerto Vallarta, I find regular martini glasses...latent-ly effete and misleading. Al uses chocolate flavoring instead of dark syrup so the drink stays clear Icelandic white and hard. None beside the drinker and maker are any the wiser to its adulterated sweetness. In sum, the cocktails were superbly made and professionally presented which, after all, is half the fun of ordering a martini.

!read what others have to say about this bar!

Whether or not next Monday's flick is another spy movie I shall be there with cigar in tow and ready to cozy down with a dry martini...or two. Booyah!

 

Avenida Ignacio Vallarta 228 - 18

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I saw an ugly couple today

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I passed a young and ugly couple today. They were both long of leg and, startlingly, short of chin. Neither one had any chin of which to speak. Just a bottom lip and then a neck. They were made for each other; and will probably make chinless babies.

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"Sherlock Holmes" (movie)

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I liked the new Sherlock Holmes movie, starring Robert Downey, Jr and Jude Law, so much that I went back to see it the following week! Even if I hadn't missed the opening on the first go (came in on the boxing scene) I would have returned for a second helping because the action and dialogue and texture of the cinematography is just that rich.

American Mr Downey, Jr plays the title role minus

the famous Sherlock Holmes hat and Briton Mr Law, his trusty sidekick Dr John Watson. The two are bona fide thespians and easily a couple of the greatest actors among this generation. You'll be forgiven for thinking the actors' roles should have been reversed for as it turns out that while Holmes, one of the world's most known detectives, is British like Mr Law the largest Sherlock Holmes memorabilia is, in fact, across the pond in America. Americans eat him up!

Congratulations to Mr Downey, Jr on receiving the Golden Globe for Best Actor.

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Striking a pose for art class

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Well it was bound to happen: earlier this month I began work as a model for art classes. It's fun. I dig it! Sometimes the classes call for nude modelling----ooh la la----and other times, athletic shorts suffice. The artists, largely older white ladies, all like having me in the center of the room.

Maybe it's my creative poses or ability to maintain a pose or my...smile.

The attendees, mainly student and hobby artists with two or three established professionals among the lot, congregate regularly to sketch the human form.

During last week's morning class I luxuriated in a repose pose----  and feel asleep. The group had twenty minutes to draw and I was, thankfully, brought back to consciousness by the instructor shouting, Cinco minutos mas. Five minutes! (it's a bilingual class). It might have been embarrassing otherwise, no? Hehehe. A break followed-- whew!-- and I quickly made for the coffee and cake.


At any rate, it's a sweet gig and the groups, adorable. Am looking forward to being the live model for more art sessions.

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Happy Martin Luther King, Jr Day

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Antropology Bar is not classy or fun (Puerto Vallarta)

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Antropology sucks.

By virtue of no competition it is thee go-to nude male strip bar in Puerto Vallarta. But would tourists still go to it if they knew they were supporting a sonofabitch who essentially operates along the lines of a sweat-shop? That rich sonofabitch would be owner Jose. There's just something about this country which is sluggish to respect the self-evidence of human worth and dignity. Some travellers understand the folly in expecting foreign lands to proceed like their native society. I wager, however, that no one expects serfdom or indentured servitude to exist in North America in this day and age! Times do not always keep pace with years. Just look at Cuba. Or Mexico. Or Estonia.

The strippers are too afraid to speak up because no one wants to be unemployed

My beef with Antropology is uncomplicated and sincere: slavery is wrong. Anything akin or tantamount to slavery is equally wrong. The bar touts itself as a place "where classy meets fun" but there is nothing classy about how it is run. The strippers are treated like shit and given as much thought as one gives to the crap he just dumped in the toilet---zero save for flushing it away. 

Strippers are not paid any wages yet are required to work nightly AND forbidden to ever dance in any other venue. By any other venue I mean private affairs (bachelorette parties or house parties) and social galas (parades, fundraisers, store openings) as well as in other bars. Preventing a man from taking a second job to make ends meet or from making an honest living is inexcusable, ridiculous, wrong. Exclusive rights to something means that thing is paid for or in the case of a human worker is compensated for. 

Antropology demands exclusive labor and gives nothing in return. By nothing I mean nothing. No pay, no perks, no support, not even free drinks of water or juice; hell, even slave masters fed their slaves and chain-gangs earn cents to the dollar. Would it really impoverish the queer bastard to comp the dancers a beer or bottle of water?! Plus, he takes a share of the tips (private dances). What part of this is okay to any right thinking customer?

My beef with Antropology is uncomplicated: slavery is wrong. The strippers are treated like shit. They are not paid any wages yet are required to work nightly AND forbidden to ever dance in any other venue

One wouldn't knowingly patronize a sweat-shop or child labor or de facto forced labor; nor would one be okay if the scenario involved female dancers so why justify an exception for this? The strippers are too afraid to speak up because no one wants to be unemployed (failing to realize work without pay doesn't actually constitute actual employment anyway). Since Right counts for nada with Jose the man sees no reason to change his business practices.

Therefore it is up to customers, or perhaps the absence thereof, to motivate change. The expat gringos (and homosexual community) are always going on about acceptance and fair treatment so I want to see if they can convince the owner of Antropology to accept that his policy is not fair by, at minimum, North American standards. Jose needs to get with it. 


Until then, I do hope tourists boycott Antropology because Antropology sucks. Adult entertainment need not come at such a cost.
(Hmmm, wonder if the business association knows about this....)

I welcome feedback; Or click here to send your comments straight to Antropology (pun.so.intended).

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Sixty-nine murders in one day (Mexico)

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I return to Mexico so often because I like the easy living and weather and language, but its charming primitiveness is fast on its way to returning to barbarism. Already a Third World country known for its poverty, cheap labor, drugs and soccer, Mexico's traditions are itching to re-light a powder keg that will have blood running in the streets and heads poached on sticks...or used by twisted beaners as soccer balls. 

Two weeks into 2010 and drug cartels have made their evil intent clear: We crazy sonsofbitches are here to kill all who interfere. Kill or be killed

No drug trafficking mayhem is evident here in beautiful, touristy, homophilic Puerto Vallarta; but I probably wont be returning next winter.


Two weeks into 2010 and drug cartels have made their evil intent clear: We crazy sonsofbitches are here to kill all who interfere. Kill or be killed. Law of the Jungle has no place in any civilized country or society. Today, sixty-nine---sixty-nine!---murders blotted pig scanners. Sixty-nine murders in one day. Lest you mistake them for simple gun slinging desperados the henchmen are fond of torture and chopping up bodies and discarding the remains in public as gruesome calling cards. Destruction is not removed from creativity. One victim, a word to be applied loosely as nearly all the unfortunates tend to have some connection to the cartels, was a former pig whose face was removed and stitched on to a soccer ball. They do love soccer! 



Poverty is NOT at the root of this diabolical terror. Nor is illiteracy. Loads of places have poor and stupid and unhappy people but they don't reek havoc and terrorism on the country because they're, what?, without. Mexicans like to brag about being, among other things, the happiest people in the world. Some rag like Reader's Digest, which a few years back also purported NYC was the most hospitable American city, gave them such an advancement and they cling to it. With "happiness" like this who needs anger or madness?


Certainly not tourists.

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It is not worthwhile to go around the world to count the cats in Zanzibar

Henry David Thoreau

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Oh the weather outside is frightful

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...if you are in the American Midwest. Which I no longer am. Thank ya Jesus!

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You say you want a revolution?!

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I like living in Mexico but if patterns are anything, then me and my wanderlust shall be decamping elsewhere. Far away from the country and its northern borders. Why? As Mexico moves into the 2010 so, too, does its traditions and one particularly eerie tradition has it that it's time for revolution, baby.


In 1999 we were anxious to party down like Prince told us to. But here they have anxieties to coup like it's 1910...or 1810; either one would fulfill their revolutionary angst. A decade's long overthrow ensued two centuries ago and it was followed by another decade's long regime tussle exactly one century later. Spooky, spooky. Both were hard and bloody.

 Some people do stupidly wish for the worse

El Presidente Calderon vows the curse has had its day. His administration has been marked by a willingness to unhinge or weld the weak links in his country. However, with drug cartel violence running at an all time high (in direct retaliation to Pres Calderon's anti-drug war) and inbred superstition running higher still, it is comprehensible why the actualization of this self-fulfilled prophecy has the natives restless. For years I've heard 2010 spoken of glowingly. As if it represented the Second Coming of Christ. So hang the public denials: This.is.wanted. Some people do stupidly wish for the worse. In Mexico it ain't worthwhile change unless it is loud, senseless, and bloody.Shall soon be time for me to hit the old dusty trail.



Viva revolucion, cabron!

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New Year's baptismal

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I was not so sentimental as to run in to the ocean on January first. Oddly, the thought never crossed my mind. It would be two days more before I went down to the beach. 

The first was on January first but I only wanted to be on the beach; I closed the book (Wicked), shut my eyes, and was out for a spell owing to the mimosas I had for breakfast. Embarrassed for having fallen asleep, owing to the several mimosas, I got up and left and was too sleepy to flirt back with the two girls who were giggling and taking my picture...as I slept? Rather intrusive of them, no?




Yesterday I went back and, again, nodded off (I finished off the breakfast brew batch which only amounted to two mimosas; champagne and sparking wine trigger somnolence in me...and what a somnolence!). The Sun was intense. I was sweating under the neck and felt a touch of delirium so I strode straight into the waves and cooled off, never minding the initial coldness of the water. And as I smiled and tread water, snapped out of my sluggishness, I thought to myself, Why has it taken me three days to get here? Then a wonderful refrain gushed forth: I looooove my life.

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