Current Location: Euro Cafe, Granada, Nicaragua


Price of beer in a bar: US$0.68 for 12 ounces of domestic brew
Song currently stuck in my head: Something off of Plastic Beach (Gorillaz), I think it’s the first or second track. I can hear Snoop.

Personally, I can’t wait to step foot on a remote plastic beach; more to the point, I’d like to be one of the first. Sooner or later, possibly in my lifespan, a gradual accumulation of near pulverized plastic will blanket a coast in granules of bizarre and cynically beautiful color. If you’re like me and you’ve accepted the destruction of the planet (or at least it’s recognizable state) at the hands of an overly populous mankind, you take these little pleasures when you can find them. I’m hoping places like Hard Rock Fiji rake the shit away to keep the facade going, leaving the crazier than fiction guideposts that mark our decline available only to those of us willing to push out a little further.

Having recently overhauled my laptop, I didn’t realize that Firefox’s spell-check was set for “English / Australia” until just this moment. I thought I was losing my mind because every time I typed a word with a Z in it, spell-check told me “No, no… your english is fading. An “S” belongs there.” It also insisted on putting “U”s all over the place. I’ve been sending a lot of emails asking about “Neighbourhoods” in Panama, swearing that word looked ridiculous. Fuck you, aussie spelling. On the other hand, maybe it got me some traction with the Kiwi who runs the hostel I was emailing.

Reports of crisp, refreshing weather back home leave me nostalgic for past spring thaws, that 4 days of pleasant weather that takes place between the face full of pain that we call “winter” and the burnt thighs on automotive Naugahyde that we call “summer” back home. It’s an awesome time of year, playing ying to the autumnal yang and tying for second place behind that most elusive of conditions, the Indian Summer, in terms of sheer pleasantness.

Here it’s in the upper 80s, Fahrenheit. I like to think of Fahrenheit as “The Lord’s Scale of Temperature” in that it seems arbitrary and mostly based on “I told you so” kind of circular logic. I should convert over to Celsius for a while so that other people have some idea of what I mean and so that I can make sense of local weather reports.

And our time in Granada continues…


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