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Qafár af Аҧсшәа bahasa ambon Acèh адыгабзэ адыгабзэ تونسي/Tûnsî تونسي Tûnsî Afrikaans Akan Gegë Alemannisch тÿштÿк алтай тил አማርኛ Pangcah aragonés Ænglisc अङ्गिका العربية ܐܪܡܝܐ mapudungun جازايرية الدارجة مصرى অসমীয়া American sign language asturianu Atikamekw авар Kotava अवधी Aymar aru azərbaycanca تۆرکجه башҡортса Bali Boarisch žemaitėška Batak Toba Batak Toba جهلسری بلوچی Bikol Central беларуская беларуская (тарашкевіца)‎ беларуская (тарашкевіца)‎ български روچ کپتین بلوچی भोजपुरी भोजपुरी Bislama Banjar bamanankan বাংলা བོད་ཡིག বিষ্ণুপ্রিয়া মণিপুরী بختیاری brezhoneg Bráhuí bosanski Batak Mandailing Iriga Bicolano ᨅᨔ ᨕᨘᨁᨗ буряад català Chavacano de Zamboanga Mìng-dĕ̤ng-ngṳ̄ нохчийн Cebuano Chamoru Choctaw ᏣᎳᎩ Tsetsêhestâhese کوردی corsu Capiceño Nēhiyawēwin / ᓀᐦᐃᔭᐍᐏᐣ qırımtatarca къырымтатарджа (Кирилл)‎ qırımtatarca (Latin)‎ čeština kaszëbsczi словѣньскъ / ⰔⰎⰑⰂⰡⰐⰠⰔⰍⰟ Чӑвашла Cymraeg dansk Deutsch Österreichisches Deutsch Schweizer Hochdeutsch Deutsch (Sie-Form)‎ Thuɔŋjäŋ Zazaki dolnoserbski Dusun Bundu-liwan डोटेली ދިވެހިބަސް ཇོང་ཁ eʋegbe Emiliàn Ελληνικά emiliàn e rumagnòl English Canadian English British English Esperanto español español de América Latina español (formal)‎ eesti euskara estremeñu فارسی Fulfulde suomi meänkieli Võro Na Vosa Vakaviti kvääni føroyskt français français cadien arpetan Nordfriisk furlan Frysk Gaeilge Gagauz 贛語 赣语（简体）‎ 贛語（繁體）‎ kriyòl gwiyannen Gàidhlig galego گیلکی Avañe'ẽ गोंयची कोंकणी / Gõychi Konknni गोंयची कोंकणी Gõychi Konknni Bahasa Hulontalo 𐌲𐌿𐍄𐌹𐍃𐌺 Ἀρχαία ἑλληνικὴ Alemannisch ગુજરાતી Gaelg Hausa 客家語/Hak-kâ-ngî Hawaiʻi עברית हिन्दी Fiji Hindi Fiji Hindi Ilonggo Hiri Motu hrvatski Hunsrik hornjoserbsce Kreyòl ayisyen magyar magyar (formal)‎ հայերեն Արեւմտահայերէն Otsiherero interlingua Bahasa Indonesia Interlingue Igbo ꆇꉙ Iñupiak ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ inuktitut Ilokano ГӀалгӀай Ido íslenska italiano ᐃᓄᒃᑎᑐᑦ/inuktitut 日本語 Patois la .lojban. jysk Jawa ქართული Qaraqalpaqsha Taqbaylit Адыгэбзэ Адыгэбзэ Kabɩyɛ Kabuverdianu Kongo کھوار Gĩkũyũ Kırmancki Kwanyama ဖၠုံလိက် қазақша قازاقشا (تٴوتە)‏ قازاقشا (جۇنگو)‏ қазақша (кирил)‎ қазақша (Қазақстан)‎ qazaqşa (latın)‎ qazaqşa (Türkïya)‎ kalaallisut ភាសាខ្មែរ ಕನ್ನಡ 한국어 조선말 Перем Коми Kanuri къарачай-малкъар Krio Kinaray-a karjal कॉशुर / کٲشُر کٲشُر कॉशुर Ripoarisch kurdî كوردي (عەرەبی)‏ kurdî (latînî)‎ къумукъ коми kernowek Кыргызча Latina Ladino Lëtzebuergesch лакку лезги Lingua Franca Nova Luganda Limburgs Ligure Līvõ kēļ لەکی Ladin lumbaart lingála ລາວ Silozi لۊری شومالی lietuvių latgaļu Mizo ţawng لئری دوٙمینی latviešu 文言 Lazuri मैथिली Basa Banyumasan мокшень Malagasy Ebon олык марий Māori Minangkabau македонски മലയാളം монгол ꯃꯤꯇꯩ ꯂꯣꯟ ဘာသာ မန် молдовеняскэ मराठी кырык мары Bahasa Melayu Malti Mvskoke Mirandés မြန်မာဘာသာ эрзянь مازِرونی Dorerin Naoero Nāhuatl Bân-lâm-gú Napulitano norsk bokmål Plattdüütsch Nedersaksies नेपाली नेपाल भाषा Oshiwambo Niuē Nederlands Nederlands (informeel)‎ norsk nynorsk norsk ᨣᩴᩤᨾᩮᩥᩬᨦ Novial ߒߞߏ Nouormand Sesotho sa Leboa Diné bizaad Chi-Chewa Nyunga occitan Livvinkarjala Oromoo ଓଡ଼ିଆ Ирон لسان توركى ਪੰਜਾਬੀ Pangasinan Kapampangan Papiamentu Picard Deitsch Plautdietsch Pälzisch पालि Norfuk / Pitkern polski Piemontèis پنجابی Ποντιακά Prūsiskan پښتو português português do Brasil Runa Simi Runa shimi Rumagnôl Tarifit rumantsch kaalengo tšimb romani čhib Kirundi română armãneashti tarandíne русский русиньскый armãneashti Vlăheşte Влахесте Vlăheşte Kinyarwanda मारवाड़ी संस्कृतम् саха тыла ᱥᱟᱱᱛᱟᱲᱤ sardu sicilianu Scots سنڌي Sassaresu کوردی خوارگ davvisámegiella Cmique Itom Koyraboro Senni Sängö žemaitėška srpskohrvatski / српскохрватски Tašlḥiyt/ⵜⴰⵛⵍⵃⵉⵜ Tašlḥiyt ⵜⴰⵛⵍⵃⵉⵜ ၽႃႇသႃႇတႆး tacawit සිංහල Simple English Кӣллт са̄мь кӣлл bidumsámegiella ubmejesámiengiälla slovenčina سرائیکی سرائیکی slovenščina Schläsch Gagana Samoa åarjelsaemien julevsámegiella anarâškielâ sääʹmǩiõll chiShona Soomaaliga shqip српски / srpski српски (ћирилица)‎ srpski (latinica)‎ Sranantongo mbia cheë SiSwati Sesotho Seeltersk себертатар Sunda svenska Kiswahili ślůnski Sakizaya தமிழ் Tayal ತುಳು తెలుగు tetun тоҷикӣ тоҷикӣ tojikī ไทย ትግርኛ Türkmençe Tagalog толышә зывон Setswana lea faka-Tonga Tok Pisin Türkçe Ṫuroyo Seediq Xitsonga татарча/tatarça татарча tatarça chiTumbuka Twi reo tahiti тыва дыл ⵜⴰⵎⴰⵣⵉⵖⵜ удмурт ئۇيغۇرچە / Uyghurche ئۇيغۇرچە Uyghurche українська اردو oʻzbekcha/ўзбекча ўзбекча oʻzbekcha Tshivenda vèneto vepsän kel’ Tiếng Việt West-Vlams Mainfränkisch Volapük Vaďďa Võro walon Winaray Wolof 吴语 хальмг isiXhosa მარგალური saisiyat ייִדיש Yorùbá 粵語 Vahcuengh Zeêuws ⵜⴰⵎⴰⵣⵉⵖⵜ ⵜⴰⵏⴰⵡⴰⵢⵜ 中文 文言 中文（中国大陆）‎ 中文（简体）‎ 中文（繁體）‎ 中文（香港）‎ Bân-lâm-gú 中文（澳門）‎ 中文（马来西亚）‎ 中文（新加坡）‎ 中文（台灣）‎ 粵語 isiZulu


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Thousands of tourists visit the Colombian coast every year. On the beaches Venezuelan girls come in search of potential clients with hard currency, rather than the devalued Venezuelan bolívares they earn back home.
‘Rocío’, from Barquisimeto, Venezuela, waits for clients on the seafront promenade in the bay of Santa Marta, Colombia. She carries with her all the time a relgious book which she uses overcome her fear of being alone in a foreign country to sell her body. She takes comfort from the companionship of other women working the streets. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
Ingrid, from Maracaibo arrived early this year in the bay of Taganga, Colombia, a fishing village popular with tourists. She works the streets to make a living: "I work day and night but it's still hard to make ends meet." Crédito: Tata Mahecha
'La Titi' prepares the best she can to go out on the streets to get customers. She stands out from other women due to the care she takes preparing herself for her appointments. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
Some Venezuelan women sit on the benches of Simon Bolivar Park, in the historic center of Barranquilla. The park is a 'tolerance zone' in the city where clients and prostitutes hook up. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
"I ask my foreign clients to pay me in dollars, so I triple what I earn, and I send money weekly to my little brothers in Maracaibo," said 'Ingrid.' Crédito: Tata Mahecha
The Rodadero promenade in Santa Marta. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
A tourist approaches two girls in the International Marina in Santa Marta. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
Often the women are approached by older mne who "pay very well," according to some of the prostitutes. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
Prostitutes also work the taxis carrying tourists in the bay of Santa Marta. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
‘Rocío’ walks in the late afternoon along the seaside promenade in the bay of Santa Marta. Crédito: Tata Mahecha
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This is not your mother's Chippendales. But it might be your father's kind of testosterone parade. The boys at Boardwalk dance in briefs, for an almost entirely male clientele. And, oh, the variety! Boardwalk employs buff guys, twinks, even bears — all young and tender. Buzz-kill alert for the male patrons: Many of the dancers like women as much as, or more than, men. Females have to sign a waiver promising not to have physical contact with the dancers — although maybe it should be the other way around, 'cause these boys are frisky! They'll slap a girl on her ass, pin her against the wall during a grind session, even give her a peek at their packages. Like any strip club, the drinks are overpriced, but what entertainment! And each night has its own theme, like Wednesday's "Spring Break Amateur Strip Contest." Yowza!
Hunting for the best margarita is a fun job. Aside from getting drunk in the name of research, you can learn a lot about what goes into making a quality margarita. While on the quest, you'll notice that size does not matter. Some restaurants serve margaritas big enough to dive into while some upscale haunts will dish them out in a martini glass. What's important is quality, and the folks at Azteca Real know how to make a quality margarita. Starting with a stellar tequila selection and fresh juices instead of simple margarita mix, the result isn't your average cocktail. Unfortunately, there is an intangible cost: The service at Azteca is borderline comical. But while some of the bartenders may lack tact, they make up for it tenfold when it comes to mixing.
For martini-drinking ambience, head for the lounge at Fort Lauderdale's St. Regis Hotel, where a jazzy score rolls across a vaulted ceiling of blond wood. But the St. Regis, like so many other upscale joints in South Florida, has an unexotic array of gins, and that's bound to rankle the true martini snob. He's liable to follow the scent of juniper berries a few blocks north along A1A to the Trina lounge, inside the Atlantic Hotel. Here one can find Martin Miller's, a brand whose British makers followed their gin obsession all the way to Iceland for glacial waters that are the world's purest. This is perhaps the deft touch of mixology and hospitality guru Nick Mautone, a consultant to the bar and restaurant. Mautone seems to have also imparted a few lessons to the bartending staff, who are wise to the subtle ways of martini creation.
It's dark, dank, and delightfully drunken. The old-timey wooden bar and chatty bartenders say, "Come in and spill your guts. We won't spill a drop of beer." The shadows and TVs constantly playing sports say, "Just have a beer and relax. Life isn't as bad as you think." And even if it is, what's better than a nice neighborhood bar to forget about who said what to whom. So your real next-door neighbors don't like you, and you're not about to stop playing Pantera at top volume when the mood strikes. Come down to Mickey's and meet your new neighbors: the doctor on the next stool who wishes he hadn't married young, the recent divorcee who wishes she'd fought for a bigger settlement, the Red Sox fan who won't shut up about how much he hates A-rod. It's like an episode of Cheers — with better nuts.
In Fort Lauderdale, you'll be hard pressed to find a bar as deeply connected to one neighborhood as Kim's Alley Bar is to Victoria Park. The pub is also a staple for a lot of city residents regardless of neighborhood — there's an allure to Kim's that is stronger than a zip code — but the folks of Victoria Park still love it the best. Everyday from 4:30 p.m. onward, you see locals headed there on foot. That's the best way to go because you can get blind drunk and not need to drive afterward. Kim's has pool, darts, ping-pong, and a killer jukebox, which makes it easy to lose track of time in this watering hole. The friendly bar staff treats everyone like Norm from Cheers , which isn't easy to achieve in today's rushed society. Kim's is a throwback. They're celebrating their 60th year in business for a reason — they know how to treat their customers right.
You want three things from the perfect bar. 1.) You must be able to smoke inside. 2.) Your fellow drinkers should be fun, interesting, approachable, and represent all neighborhoods and backgrounds. 3.) They've gotta have a lot of beer — like, over 100 varieties. In Hollywood, there's only one place that does all this right: PRL Euro Café. No matter what time you show up during business hours, from 5 p.m. to 2 a.m., you'll be pleased. During happy hour, from 5 to 7, you get two-for-one drinks. We're not talking just domestic Rocky Mountain swill, either. Think Old Speckled Hen, Belzebuth, and other tasty treats from far-off lands. Pop by in the evening and the long, narrow space is shoulder-to-shoulder with other Euro-brew aficionados. It's an easy environment for mingling since you all share a love of good beer and a loathing for shitty domestic draft. On the weekend, walk into (and stumble out of) underground art shows and drum 'n' bass DJ sets — all with a lit cigarette in hand. PRL might be heaven on Earth. It's definitely the perfect bar.
Sporting events are a drunkard's paradise in every respect but two: The tickets make a vicious cover charge, and getting a round means either waiting for the beer guy or waiting in a beer line, the last place you want to be when the game's big play goes down. You won't find those obstacles at Dania Beach Jai-Alai. You get the same vicarious, hop-induced ecstasy from athletic competition as you do at the football game, but without ticket charges or long lines. Jai-Alai being a European game, a certain amount of hooliganism is tolerated if not encouraged. So boo lustily, good sir! The more pickled you become, the more this bizarre sport seems to make sense. Soon you'll summon the courage to lay a wager on that boy in the yellow jersey, just because you can pronounce his name. And remember: All it takes is two friends to start a wave.
Your boy toy left you. Your momma yelled at you. Or you gave your phone number to a hottie who never called — and you scribbled it on the backside of your winning Powerball ticket. There is only one thing left to do: throw your worries in the fuck-it bucket and get totally schnockered. It has to be someplace where you won't run into the boss. A place where there is a decent chance you could end up playing tonsil hockey with a good-lookin' stranger. It's imperative that the dress code allow you to wear a revealing tank top. At Mr. G's, fun-loving bartenders and a friendly crowd will support you in turning your frown upside down. Start off with a game of Beer Pong (on Tuesdays) or by observing the college-aged eye candy. Wash down those sorrows with a Jager bomb and keep your stomach in check with the Axl Rose egg salad sandwich (or just nachos). On a good night, the band will be loud enough to drown out your whine, the bar will be clear enough to dance on top of, and by the time G's closes at 5 a.m., a slew of silicone-enhanced dancers will have stopped in after their shift to help you refine your moves on the five stripper poles. If you need anything at all, darlin' (a cab, maybe?), just ask the manager: his name is Bubba and he's totally got your back.
Once upon a time, gold digging was an art form. You had to master that "No, I'm not just into you for your money" look and not cringe when grandpa swooped in for a tongue kiss. But nowadays it's part of a mutually convenient, publicly acceptable arrangement. For validation, see Larry King and his string of ladies; Anna Nicole Smith and that really old rich dude; or former GE CEO Jack Welch and his 30-years-younger wife — who have been spotted at Seasons 52. If a man's there eating the filet mignon with veggies in a thyme-shallot reduction, he can afford to buy you a drink. And maybe later, a new wardrobe. And a penthouse in Manhattan. In return, you're expected to step up the appearance a notch: heels, manicure, short dress. Boys, you're in luck, too: A young male spy who was once scooped up by four European women and spoiled all over Palm Beach adds, "There's a lot of cougars there, too — a lot of women looking for young beefcake."
New Times has visited the Naked Grape thrice. The first time, we got into a long conversation with a toned fortysomething stud about the relative virtues of Renata Tebaldi and Maria Callas. The second time, we met a queeny young thing who had very interesting things to say about why Wilton Manors would instantly become a bastion of heterosexuality if ever viewed through a Hegelian dialectical lens (we had our doubts about that one, but it's what the man said). The third time, one of the Grape's crack sommeliers effused to us about Schopenhauer's Essays and Aphorisms . This is not the kind of track record you accrue in any old gay bar — and probably not even in most gay wine bars, of which the Naked Grape is one. Nay: this is a weird, weird confluence of forces. Comers to the Naked Grape should bring cleared palates, a desire to socialize, and big brains.

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