Saturday, April 27, 2013

While others slept...

My glasses got THEIR passport stamped in Panama AND Costa Rica:

Saturday, April 27, 2013LocationTime
13Customs status updatedGUATEMALA - GUATEMALA6:43 AM
12Departed Facility in SAN JOSE - COSTA RICASAN JOSE - COSTA RICA6:27 AM
11Transferred through SAN JOSE - COSTA RICASAN JOSE - COSTA RICA6:25 AM
10Arrived at Sort Facility SAN JOSE - COSTA RICASAN JOSE - COSTA RICA4:34 AM
9Departed Facility in PANAMA CITY - PANAMAPANAMA CITY - PANAMA4:25 AM
8Processed at PANAMA CITY - PANAMAPANAMA CITY - PANAMA12:54 AM
Friday, April 26, 2013LocationTime
7Arrived at Sort Facility PANAMA CITY - PANAMAPANAMA CITY - PANAMA11:39 PM
6Departed Facility in MIAMI GATEWAY - USAMIAMI GATEWAY, FL - USA9:30 PM
5Processed at MIAMI GATEWAY - USAMIAMI GATEWAY, FL - USA9:12 PM
4Arrived at Sort Facility MIAMI GATEWAY - USAMIAMI GATEWAY, FL - USA7:30 PM
3Departed Facility in MIAMI - TAMIAMI - USAMIAMI - TAMIAMI, FL - USA7:10 PM
2Processed at MIAMI - TAMIAMI - USAMIAMI - TAMIAMI, FL - USA7:10 PM
1Shipment picked upMIAMI - TAMIAMI, FL - USA4:12 PM

And Guatemala :-)

In theory, this means they're in Guatemalan Customs, and could be in Antigua on Monday.

Meaning ... we won't go anywhere.

Last night, we went to Luna de Miel (honeymoon) Restaurant, just down the street.  Rooftop terrace. Specialty = crepes.

I had a Primavera Salad, a spinach, mushroom, and cheese crepe, a (vanilla) ice cream sunday with sliced pears, a cup of hot chocolate, and a Mojito.

Urp.

My share was Q135 -- about USD$20 with tip.

That sets the record, folks, for pay-to-play eating.

But ... ohhhhhhh, Boy, was IT good :-)

On our way back, they were shooting off fireworks over the La Merced Chapel.  Very cool.  Our 'seat' was about 100' from the action.  The boys did a nice job, and clearly threw a few bucks at the project.

Took Benadryl and Ambien to sleep, and ... despite the fairly heady brew of pharmaceuticals ... was awakened throughout the night by the dripping of the shower head.  Apparently, Donald didn't get quite enough torque on the valve handles, after his evening shower.

On these poor-sleep nights, I make it through the next day, but simple math escapes me, as does the memory for such basics as my name, the date, what country I'm in, and ... why I'm here.

But I always remember there's great coffee, here -- wherever I am.

And there is.

My job: find it.

Might have to go back to The Refuge.  The La Parada guy thinks he knows me, by now, and what I like to drink.  I'm leery of the old adage, "familiarity breeds contempt."

Why ?  Oh, come now.  If I can't remember my name, how would I parse such a complex circumvention of even the most basic tenets of logic and reason ?

'Xactly.

Today, we have BIG plans.  Donald wants to buy a hacksaw blade, to shorten his latest walking stick acquisition.  We've both been scouting for those extra light cotton, long-sleeved shirts.  My "nylon" shirt -- bought during the blistering French heat wave of 2007 -- suits me extremely well, but doesn't cover my arms -- now roughly the color of black coffee.

Meaning: I have a farmer's tan extraordinaire.

We poked around the travel guide, yesterday, and are pretty committed that Honduras will be the next stop.  I want to take the Boeing 747 double-decker bus, first class cabin, from Guatemala City direct to Tegucigalpa.

Partly, I want to do this because it's 13 hours in opulent luxury.

Partly, I just like the name "Tegucigalpa."

It's alleged to be one of the highest murder-rate cities in the world.  So is San Pedro Sula -- another place we're aiming to go.

Less abjectly lethal, but equally interesting, is the Honduran Mayan ruins at Copán.  We'll see those, too.

You can get ruined by ruins, though, in much the same way as you can become immune to the awes of the old, magnificent churches.  The same doesn't seem to apply to the local brew: no coffee fatigue is setting in, at this point.

But Copán IS one to see, and they're not making any more of these.....

So ... Ciao for now ... from the sleep-deprived, language butchering denizens of ... The Gulag.

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