A Swift Return

And we´re off.
After the brief respite of Sua´s very Avila-like ease and tranquility, in cohorts with the consistent whistling and hoots that accompany our daily walks through... well, anywhere, we are now in the final hours of departure. And then, on to that wonderful bus ride and Wilson´s glorious truck. As always, gringos se vende.
Last night was relatively productive in some respects. We set off with the intention of prospecting the grand opening of a new Karaoke bar in town, but before that potential adventure we needed dinner, and, naturally, our male counterparts made reservations at the very empty seafood restaurant a few blocks down for eight, which isn´t very productive when there are eight other hungry students wandering the streets. So, disbanded, our plan was abandoned and the other half of us dined, instead, at the cafe we saw the other pack of gringos eating at the night we arrived. It was a delicious, if not somewhat cold, meal of seasoned beef, rice, and lentils with fried flowerettes of plantain (by the way, the author would like to mention that contrary to popular opinion, plantain is absolutely delicious.)

We left the cafe after a brief deliberation over the cuenta and wandered back to the hostel where I played a few songs for some of the group and Emily and I went over her instruction of the song "Plane" by Jason Mraz. Which reminds me how useful some new guitar tabs would be!!!

Speaking of Emily, she is awaiting use of this beautiful machine. So I must soon relinquish it to her. But before that I wanted to mention what followed after.

John, Alexandra, Emily and I meandered our way down the beach around midnight and played intimidating Once Upon A Time In Mexico soundtrack songs to a pack of young Ecuadorian males who were headed our way, which seemed to scare them off relatively quickly, and discussed the most successful methods of frightening an attacker in a difficult situation, the conclusion of which was to make trilling sounds and dance like a crab before singing "Nooo, rapist!" in a lovely falsetto and luring the pursuer towards a body of water and engaging into a fatal death roll via crocodile. I think it would work, but it has yet to be put into action as it is still in a working state.

Bua, I return to you, and with all my wishes of never handling chicken wire and wet concrete simultaneously ever again.