San Juan Del Sur (pum)

Christmas Snow Caps

A broken port robs you of pictures, alas. I am back from the land of no internet. To recap: Christmas Eve included me going out dancing under duress, because it was going to be fun they said, including Harriet who said she had to have me there, but almost immediately could not resist the allure of the hot danish guy, and so ran off and left me. Whatevs. Just know that I was on a 2nd story open bar with the wind whipping through the dark wood frames, in a flowee white skirt, and the rain intermittently dashing in, and julie and I created a dance space and moved to the beat all night long, until people started making out, and that girl over there was crying in the corner and they played one too many hiphop songs and somebody spilled Matt's drink. They all said I could move my hips. And I agree.

Christmas day included a trip to a secluded beach where the sand is so fine it adheres to you without provocation and were the Aussie Anna got attacked by a jelly fish. And something mysterious swiped at my ankle. And left a wound. Tempted to pee on it too? Maybe. It did not stop us from drinking rum out of pineapple husks however. I then caught a shuttle back to avoid a 30min crap walk. Who wants to do that after laying out all day and drinking? Not I. Even if it was just a little bit. Which left me at the lovely Mango Resort to swim without fear of death by fish in the warm waters of a pool as the sunset blazed. And then sometime after a pretty fabulous, even if pricey, Turkey dinner replete with stuffing, whipped mash and all sorts of wonderful.

We also had secret santa and plenty of toasts. I told Martin the tour leader that we should get a birthday cake and sing to Jesus but he didn't quite understand why, and so insisted on telling us about Fredrick the mouse enjoying spring and not collecting food, bcs he was so busy basking in the freedom of every day things... though the tale is somewhat convoluted as it ended with an expensive dinner at a resort but I digress. I think in hindsight after all the comings and goings, it was a pretty fabulous Christmas. Happy Birthday Jesus.

On the Eve of?

There are signs of Christmas, even in the ragandtag tumbled down Central America. Crowded with ramshackled buildings, belching smoke, a glorious consuming jungle. There are jingle bells and fireworks and girls wearing wedding dresses. There are poinsettias growing wild and spindly red. There are through each open door a dim and shadowy cool courtyard, a glowing Christmas Tree, usually fake. There are the lights hanging on various bars in all the various byways, through mountains and on the beach towns. There are the giant snowglobes and the monolithic inflated Santa at our current hotel and all the silver clustered bangled ornamentations. But mostly it is some other kind of holiday, away from the routine, letting myself be recorded upon only to find out what plays later. . . is that the gift...

Today there was 2 chicken buses and bags hoisted up and down. Noisy tourists and a loud speaking foreigner right next to my ear right now. The others have gone on a boat tour and fishing expedition and I'm not pushing my luck. And I've got to blog don't I. As all the journel entries I've tried to write lay untouched in the land of night fatigue, telemundo and hbo. So I've bought some souvenirs and a bottle of Flor de Cana and am going to wander maybe 2 blocks around the town. Tomorrow is the nice beach and hammock land... and our secret santa exchange.