BW: Consider me gone.
 This is it, this is the end of the session. And now it’s fucking cloudy on my last what was supposed to be non-travel day here. My last beach day of the trip. My last sunset into the sea of the trip. The last day of me doing this for a long long time unless I win the lottery or get a job. Like as in not partially cloudy but as in there are no shadows cloudy and I am pissed that paid for my room after breakfast instead of heading up the coast a bit, seeing another city, not that there is a really good one between here and there. Sandrine suggested that I go to Montezuma with them, but getting in and out of there would be a logistical and/or financial nightmare, and Linda clearly did not want me along. When they went to the beach the first day, I saw a maxi pad (is that the right phrase? It was a pink package that said Kotex) in it’s package on the floor outside their door that I assume had fallen out of one of their beach bags. I think it is safe to say who it belonged to. I went to the beach anyway and read the Harrison book for a bit. It’s pretty amazing and will last me through the next few travel days, including the 11 hour layover in Miami. Somehow, I ended up getting some more sun out of the deal. I then lapsed into a bit of a funk for several hours where I could not be motivated to do anything. The whole top floor of the hotel cleared out and me not wanting to lift or do my joga or run or do my flashcards or my podcasts or drink my water or even write. It occured to me that my agenda was to have started working on my resume and looking for jobs online on December 15th, a month ago, and I was certainly not ready to finally actualize that. Then a family from Montreal, Francois and ________ with their two kids, Massimo and Anais, checked in next door. He is the sommelier for a restaurant in the Westin at some ski resort in Quebec and we chatted about wine and rum and Costa Rican roads. The kids are young, the oldest in second grade. they were looking at the iguana excitedly but got a bigger kick out of me pointing out the iguana poop on the roof below us to them. Someone’s stereo was cranking out C Lo’s Fuck You and I gave a big grin to Francois who noted that the kids haven’t yet begun to learn English. I tend to leave my door open when I am dressed and Massimo, who was conceived in Italy while on a wine tour, which has to be the best job perk, ever, is named accordingly keeps wandering in. I’ll have to ask tomorrow about the naming of Anais, though I already know half of the answer. He likes the local Centanarrio, which at 12 bucks for a .375 is beyond my price range, and it occurs to me that for a country with no military that the Ticas think mighty highly of themselves. I ventured out to watch the dismal first half of the Packers game with over priced beer at El Sol, getting a kick out of the Joe Montana Modelo beer commercials, and left to watch my last sunset and it was salvageable, and if I did not get to keep fetching astray balls from the adjacent beach game going on, I probably would have wept. I came back here and tried to sulk some more and it worked and I went out and bought my last bottle of Rum, and sat down at a table to order dinner and before Oscar or Byron could take my order some pretty young thing with a, what, kindle or something came up and asked if I had a charger. Later, at her table, I told Sivan that it was my cell phone charger and then caught myself until they coaxed “I saw the hole and thought I had something that would fit it” out of me. Israeli, she, and prone to walking around Tel Aviv in a tiger costume. Got out of mandatory military duty for being mentally unfit to serve. The other two were from small towns in Norway. Clara, stunning, adopted, Indian, Mumbai, has at least a twin and has no desire to meet it nor her parents. Teaches school, including sex ed, can see whales in the fjord from her kitchen window, wanted to join the Norwegian army but failed the eyesight test. First concert was Iron Maiden and like Caroline, also dips. According to Sivan, Caroline looks like Kirsten Dunst and one of the Spice Girls. Caroline did not talk much, but was very pleased with these assessments. Clara was in a Spice Girls cover band when she was 10 and carries around this gadget that you taze mosquito bites with that her mother gave her. I have my reservations about it’s efficacy. At some point Caroline broke her silence and said “Look, our flag.” Lynryd Skynyrd was on the TV again. Googling up “norway flag” just now, I’m glad that she left the talking to the others and we discussed rape, death by animal attack, and loss of virginity. Clara was 14 when she tried the first time and I retold my own experience, commenting on how woefully unprepared sex ed leaves you for the real thing. She was talking about a guy she dated that had a twin. I stopped her short. Didja? Of course. Caroline’s was with her best friend after they figured out that they should try it to see what it was all about and how to do it. Sivan was in love with a basketball player who told her to bring two of her hot friends to his beach house for a small sex party, and she ended up getting stuck with (by?) one of his friends instead of him as he hooked up with her best friend instead. And, having been through Liberia before, I’m guessing that that was the last interesting conversation of the trip. I have two epic travel days awaiting me. Tomorrow will be spent sweating at bus stops as there is no clearly defined way to get to Liberia. Tuesday involves a 5 AM rise to get to the airport for my 7 AM flight. I feel like I am obligated to hitch hike tomorrow as well as do all of the other things that I cannot in the LOTF like buy beer from kids and then walk around town while drinking that beer. I wish to ride again in a bus with a daredevil driver who paid no regards to things like speed limits or lane lines, but they have no such things here
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Diary Photos
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