Vague Insanty 044

Time out Lonely Planet, there's ruins everywhere and three hotels at budget price with only cold water and a crazy-ass staff who sit around and eat coconuts while reading Spanish newspapers and criticizing gay porn, and some guy who sells guava slices on the corner as his half brother peddles cocaine to random junked tourists and some teenager gives passing directions at knife point.

And the directions are all okay but he follows you demanding pay and instead of getting knifed you decided to fork over three bucks and then he screams loudly and breaks bottles in the street in joy and then you get lost again and end up in a small cafe where a guy asks you if you'd like to buy an orange and so you're sitting there with an orange, and a beer, watching game shows on TV in some language you can't understand and some dude in Bahama shorts starts telling you about his adventure bungee jumping off an Incan pyramid whilst wearing a beer hat and you'd sort of like to kill him because he calls all the locals "Pedro" even if they are girls and he smiles from behind a cheap-ass instamatic Camera he bought off the shelf of some drug store.

And so you stumble back to your hotel drunk again to find someone has stolen the physical door to your room and used it to build a raft to sell to tourists for drug money. And then you demand a refund for your room and all your stolen belongings, and they explain that you paid for the ROOM and not the door TO THAT ROOM, and it's your own damned fault for owning valuable things like sun cream in the first place.

That's why I'm going back next year and every year through the travel agency and maybe buying lots of tacky souvenirs and kissing some girl named Nikky who doesn't speak English but is easy on the eyes and never asks the difficult questions like, "who's on top this time?"

Maybe I'm wrong.