March 8th, 2009

This morning is as windy as the last. A bit quieter, though I can hear a little shark dog yipping excitedly outside. Last night was much like any other here; Toñas, Flor de Caña, walking about and exchanging stories and inside jokes. Everyone got up pretty late, that is except for me.

*Editor's note: Lizzie and Heather have "fallen in love with" Natasha's friend, Carina.

After lunch, we decided to try out the beach again. Once again, the wind picked up and blasted our skins with sand, which stuck to our sun lotion and quickly caused general irritation. Natasha and I left almost immediately, deciding that our time was better spent reading at Iguana's (I was reading "The Graveyard Book" at that time). After a frozen limeade, we walked around a bit with Heather and ate ice cream, went to the internet café, and returned home briefly before walking back down to the shore to watch the sunset. A parrot was perched on a fence, so we stopped to take pictures. There was a green wagon on the beach, so Heather sort of climbed into it which I took pictures. The sun set, and we returned to our flat.

After meeting up with Reuben, Lizzie and Patrick, who had spent their day lounging around the luxury pool, we went out for pizza. What it lacked in flavor it made up for in cheapness, so all was well.

After dinner we went to Republika, a small canadian-owned bar furnished extensively with interesting communist regalia. Many of the drinks are actually served in children's beach buckets, which was interesting and cost-effective. We played jenga, chess, and card games as we sipped electric lemonades, long island iced teas, and piña coladas. After a while we left Reuben and Patrick, who insisted that they wanted to keep playing games, and later claimed to have been rather close to death on account of a certain mysterious, potentially murderous chap, but that story is not mine to tell.

We, on the other hand, made our way to Iguana's, enjoying the company of an excitable German, a stocky Australian, and a few pasty American businessmen.

Next, we were off to the Crazy Crab dance club. Upon arrival, I noticed that the employees were doing pat-down searches of customers before they were allowed to enter. I felt my pocket and quickly realized that I had my swiss army knife in it. This is going to be interesting... I thought to myself.

Sure enough, the knife was discovered immediately. They refused to let me in. Too tired to deal with the situation, I decided to get my knife back and go back to the apartment, which was a few blocks down the road. The bouncer, who understood no english and had milky cataracts forming in his eyes, was surprisingly stubborn and may have intended to keep the knife for himself. After some persistence, I retrieved the knife, and walked home with it in my pocket, blade drawn in case I needed it.

Such a lot of trouble for such a little thing.