The Payoffs and the Ripoffs and the Things Nobody Saw

So baby, here's your ticket Put the suitcase in your hand Here's a little money now Do it just the way we planned You be cool for twenty hours And I'll pay you twenty grand

There's a seedy underbelly to this town, and it's part of the reason I moved here. I'm far from an outlaw; I went to private school ffs, But there has always been something appealing to me about the pirate life, living a step ahead of the law, defying convention. It's here in spades, but you have to look for it. The powers that be have crafted a veneer of a picture-perfect UNESCO World Heritage Site 1500's town. And it can be that, if you want it to be. But there's more, and tonight I found a little bit of it. 

The sailors and pilots The soldiers and the law The pay offs and the rip offs the things nobody saw No matter if it's heroin, cocaine, or hash You've got to carry weapons Cause you always carry cash

"So this fella in Belize paid us $5K to move these bales of weed from Belize to Florida, and I was 24 with nothing else to do so what the hell," was how the story started. I'm at my go-to bar, The Snug, and this 50ish  fella rolls in looking every bit the part of a midwestern stockbroker on vacation. Unless he was full of shit, and most people here are, this cat has lived a life. So he and his buddy "acquire' a sailboat, stow the weed below, and begin their venture. Sadly, they encountered a hurricane. At this point, their options were limited, and discussions were had. 2-5 years was the generally accepted sentence for drug running in those days, so they accepted their fate and radioed the US Coast Guard. 'It was that or die, man." Coast Guard shows up and never board the boat and towed our heroes to Corpus. I didn't ask what happened with the weed, which upon reflection seems relevant. 

There's lots of shady characters and lots of dirty deals Every name's an alias in case somebody squeals It's the lure of easy money, it's got a very strong appeal

A love story. No, really. "I was detained in JFK the day I met my wife and future mother of my children." This guy, a different guy, had been illegally living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn for awhile, completely illegally. He's Northern Irish, but Catholic (aside: the violence continues there. He was home for a month, and there were seven bombings. It's not reported because people like to believe it's solved. It isn't.). He and a woman he'd never met had been chatting online and sparks flew. He was going to Burning Man, but they had plans to meet up when he returned. He returned, but was detained by immigration. After the necessary interrogation, he was handed his passport and told to wait in a room for the police who were going to take him to jail for deportation. Our guy jiggled the knob, and it was open. He kept walking. Nobody stopped him until he saw a Yellow Cab, got in and left. He got home and had some drinks, as one would, and messaged his girl. They met for a drink. Unfortunately, the day's earlier cocktails proved to be a truth serum. He revealed that he enjoyed his cocktails, his weed, the occasional line of blow and was currently on the run from the law. But he was around 40 years old and was ready to settle down.

This gal grabbed her shit and ran for the train. 

Well, fortunately, our friend chased her down and told her that despite all that, he felt that they could make a go of it. She offered the cheek kiss goodbye, but he went in for the kill. A 10 minute makeout later on a train platform, she told him to call her tomorrow. 

He did. They are married with 2 kids and live in Antigua, Guatemala. 

It's a cool place, gang. I can't wait for more. 

Perhaps you'd understand it better standing in my shoes It's the ultimate enticement It's the smuggler's blues

Smuggler's Blues: Glenn Frey (still a goddamn jam)

Taxes, Earthquakes and Mosquitos

Still putting off going to the SAT, which is the tax department in Guatemala. In order to get a tag for my scooter,

That's SAT, behind the bus

I have to have a NIT, which is sort of like a social security number. You get the NIT at the SAT. The problem is my Espanol skills. I can absolutely ask for what I need, that's not the problem. The problem arises should they, and they will, have questions. I learned this the hard way. Fresh out of class one day and feeling plucky as hell in my Spanish abilities, I decided to order food delivered. (Aside: Everywhere delivers here. fast food, fine dining, everything will come to your house). I ordered from Hector's, which is a fancy place that has carpaccio. Well, I told the kindly gentleman on the phone that I wanted my food a domicilio and what I wanted. That part went fine. Then he started asking me things.

it's not the carpaccio but Hector's kicks ass

My heart began to race and I felt a panic attack coming on so I told him I'd have to call him back and hung up. This is how I imagine my trip to the SAT going, except I have to have the tag and I didn't have to eat carpaccio.

Then, I saw the owner of my Spanish school out on Friday who told the folks at the bar that I was having trouble. So now all of Antigua knows that I am stupid. LOOK LADY I AM NOT A GOOD CLASSROOM LEARNER AND I NEVER HAVE BEEN GET OFF MY BACK. I study around 2-3 hours a day, and I can speak fine when I need to but when my teacher asks me about a word, I am struck stupid for some reason. It's always been that way. No idea how I got through law school, which is literally nothing but that, but here I am.

Also, in other scooter-related news, I still haven't figured out who has the right-of-way here which is sure to result in my getting t-boned and dying on the cobblestone streets of Antigua. I think it's Avenidas traffic, which is north/south, but motorcycles and scooters don't seem to care either way. So I drive like a granny at intersections, and everyone zooms past me.

People here are hyper sensitive to the slightest temperature changes. I saw today that friends in Alabama had a nice day in the 70's but were expecting freezing temperatures tonight. Antigua would lose its collective mind if that happened here. It's basically the exact same every day: 72-78 in the day, 50-55 at night, but one day is a few degrees colder than the past, you'd think a blizzard has rolled in. Heavy sweaters, puffy jackets, the whole deal. I'd also like to point out that shorts aren't really a thing here. Everyone wears pants or jeans. Soccer was a spring sport when I was a kid, so I guess I got used to wearing shorts in cold weather, so it takes alot for my legs to get cold, so I'm the idiot who always walks around Antigua in shorts, looking like a clown.

I've clearly buried the lede here, but we had an earthquake this week. Well, notsomuch us as the folks close to the Pacific had an earthquake that we felt. It was a 5.4 on the Richter scale which isn't a big deal I don't suppose. Earthquakes aren't what you think they are. Well, maybe if you're slap ass in the middle of one, it is, but when you aren't there really isn't any shaking, it's more of a rolling sensation. The best analogy I can give you is that you're in a wave. Either way, Steve was having none of it, and there's just not a way to tell a dog to calm down during a quake.

Which reminds me, my buddy Harvell tells me that there was a 4.7 quake in Mobile. I don't understand that, but he said his store shook a little and everything. We don't have any fault lines, so I dunno.

Mosquitos. Brah. They everywhere. I think it's because my apartment is next to a plant nursery and across the street from a coffee farm, but as much as I want to leave my doors and windows open because the weather is literally nice all the time, I can't because of them skeeters and only one window has a screen. If I know where to get screens that would solve the problem, yet I do not and nobody else seems to know either. So if you come visit, bring bug spray.

Happy Holidays to all if you celebrate. If you do not, have a good week. I leave for New Orleans on Friday. Not sure of my plans at all, but if you find yourself that way, give me a holler.

Trash Can Dreams. They Do Come True

Name the song. Because it reminds me alot of this place. It was written about New York, but it seems awfully applicable about this place. So many Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters with backpacks, and they are mostly wonderful. Except the Australians. We have a beef so hot it would burn your mouth. Except they don't know about it, so whatever.

I'm starting to love this town. That doesn't mean I couldn't leave it for the right opportunity, but man, it's magical. In the past few days I  watched Volcan Fuego erupt from my terrace with my dog and a bottle of wine, the lovely Jacki invited me to a bbq (okay, calm down Alabama, I'm not going to get into the bbq/cookout thing here but yes, I took issues with the nomenclature), from which I just returned. There were a bunch of people from all over the world in a flowered covered courtyard, dogs everywhere (Steve had a helluva time), a guy from Guate City who owns a steakhouse brought in steaks, There was candlelight, wine. it's what you imagine the perfect dinner party is like, but it was real. Could not ask for anything more (props to grillmaster Sagan). Couldn't find a tuk tuk home so I stopped in to Travel Menu for a beer and a shot until one rolled by.  Met a few great people, (that's the thing here, you sit down at the bar and people immediately ask your name and want to know what's up with you. The antithesis of Orange Beach) bonded with my friend/bartender Lori in calling each other assholes, like you do .  Finally, a tuk tuk came by,

Steve and I hopped in (he's become accustomed), and we're home.

Spanish class: still kicking my ass, but it's necessary. I think I learn differently? I dunno.  What I'm doing is working, I know, but memorization has never been something I'm good at (also I default to French when I don't know a word, but I'm getting better about that) But when I get out in the streets, I know those words and I'm able to communicate. Ordered Dominos's for delivery last week, and they understood. ALSO: Little Caesar's is a thing here. FFS.

Gotta go back to the Bodegona tomorrow. In a town of 40,000 people, there's one grocery store. If anybody wants to make a bunch of money, build a grocery on the South end of town. One that's organized. The odd thing is the taped together stuff. There's even a facebook group: "shit taped together at the Bodegona." No lie. Sometimes it's normal, like mayo and ketchup taped together. Sometimes it's a bottle of wine and shoe polish. Nobody knows. It's Guatemala.

Dunno if I told you, but the neighbor who complained about Steve's barking has moved. So bark your head off, mi perro. Bark.

Oh, so we burned the devil this week. So here's the deal with that. Every year on 7 Deciembre, they burn a big papier mache devil to start the Christmas season. You can buy a mini-devil to burn at your own house if that's your bag. Also they read the devil's will, but I'm not sure he has assets. Anyhow, this year it got political. The mayor (a woman) is not terribly popular. So this year, they decided to burn a she-devil, a diabla, if you will. It's a huge production: bands, beers, whatnot. But apparently, the mayora got wind that she was being mocked and had her people steal the devil. People got pissed and demanded the return of the devil. Not sure how, but the devil was returned and the burning of la diabla went on as scheduled.

What else? A great friend in New Orleans invited me to come spend the holidays there, and I'm really excited about that. I know people here, yes, but I don't really have friends that I can call about hanging out for Christmas. So it means the world to me that I'm welcome somewhere. The holidays are hard for me anyway. It's only been a month here, maybe next year I'll have plans here. So anywho, if you'd like to view me whilst I'm in the States you can find me there.

Finally, someone asked me tonight where I'm from, and I said, "I'm from Alabama," and my voice cracked. I'd give anything for a Druid City Lamplighter IPA. Anything. I miss you all so much.

Roll Tide.