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.