Current Location: Grenada, Nicaragua


Price of Beer in a bar: Dunno, just arrive.  My bottle of coke at a
hostel was 60 or 70 cents.
Song currently stuck in my head: Get Innocuous! by LCD Soundsystem
(thanks to Jake for the new album)

Yesterday I was on a 6 hour bus from Ceiba to Tegus in Honduras,
watching the woman across from me vomit on the floor and then neither
make any attempt to clean it nor alert the staff.

Today I was on a 6 hour bus ride from Tegus to Grenada watching “The
Transporter 2” and “Cradle 2 the Grave” in the air conditioned bliss
of Ticabus.  I don’t actually care about AC, except tha tit means you
can leave the windows closed and that cuts down on the filth in a big
way.  It’s good to be back on the interamerican highway.  Ticabus is a
slight step up from greyhound and a world away from most of the buses
I use down here.

Jake, Gabe and I finally broke free of Utila two days ago.  I can only
assume that they are both back safe and sound in Indiana.  Gabe got
some excellent photos of a bar/party that we went to after our
barbecue… you’re in a bar that entirely situated on a pier with no
walls and partial roof, it’s packed, everyone takes their shirts off,
the island physician scales the rafters and grinds with the first girl
brave enough to climb after… you know… island shit.  I’ll pass the
photos along when they are made available.

And it’s exactly those events that fuel the world of mouth that drives
the backpacker scene that attracts the attention of the mainstream
travel scene that drives the property values that we fully intend to
make some money on.  More on that later as well.

My friend Christian Prefontain seems to have beaten me to San Juan Del
Sur, so I’ll be heading there with haste in the AM.  In the meantime
I’m sponging free internet and trying to make my one free
international phone call before jumping into the pool, all in a
beautiful colonial building and all included in my hostel’s US$6 per
night rate.  Grenanda looks so much better than when I left it a year
or two ago.  Everything has a fresh coat of paint, everyone seems a
little better dressed and a little more energetic.  I’m glad to see
that tourism money trickling around, assuming that’s the case.  I’m
also glad I got some photos last time for contrast.

Days on buses mean missed meals, disrupted sleep patterns, and filth.
I’m currently suffering from the latter two, and I’ve only recently
gotten over the first.  Therefore I can’t seem to remember much of
last week’s excitement.  We did about 3 solid days of real estate
scouting, found stuff we liked, changed our minds 6 or 7 times and are
now requesting more info on a few of the properties.

My English has gone to hell, btw.  I hadn’t noticed until I had Jake
around, and then it was clear.  I would attempt to express things and
then reflect on what I’d just said.  Most often my reflections
included “those words don’t belong in that order” or “did that make
any sense at all?”.  I’m not sure exactly what causes it (there are
many possibilities), but Fey, our favorite tropical goth barista,
mentioned spontaneously that it’s happen to her and others she knows
as well.  That it’s nearly unavoidable, really.

I have a bunch of stuff to take advantage of here.  I half expect an
addendum tomorrow or wednesday when I wake up and remember everything
that I forgot to mention.