Why am I still drinking
Trip Start
Oct 19, 2007
1
84
126
Trip End
Ongoing
Colonia del Sacramento,
Uruguay
Monday, January 21, 2008
I meet my roomate upon my return at 7:15 and for some reason he is awake and the bottle of whiskey is completely gone. I have no idea where he was the entire time but he seems pretty wasted and he has no idea where to hang out at around here (sounds familiar) so I give him the 411 and hopefully tomorrow night he`ll be all set. I tell him though that just because you are in an over 18 club doesn`t necessarily mean anything. Catch bus to Montevideo and then another bus back to Colonial and I haven`t slept the entire time. I have problems sleeping on buses sometimes. I basically just sat there like a zombie staring at the back of the seat and breaking up with Elaine (subtle Seinfeld joke) for 5 straight hours. I get to Colonial and I`m starving more than Ethiopia in the 80`s (btw, I always found it somewhat Ironic that there are Ethiopian restaurants, Umm yes, hello, I would like to order the plate of nothing with a fly on the side). And since I am starving I figure I should get something to eat, nice to see my basic survival instincts are still intact. I meet some Australian dude with his two kids there and he laughs at his own jokes more than I do and then I realize how annoying that is, I should really stop doing that so much. His jokes blow and I just smile grin and stare off into space. Here is one doozie that I remember, he was talking about how people haggle over prices in Bolivia and he was making fun of them because Bolivia is so poor to begin with and everything is so cheap and he says "If I want to haggle over prices I`ll go buy a watermelon in Tel Aviv". I donīt even get it and he`s damn near falling out of his chair laughing (If I were his kids I`d have ran away years ago). I mean, what is that, a jewish joke. Hey buttsmack, only two people can make fun of the Jews, Jewish people and me. I nap from 3:30 to 7:00 and then I meet two Brazilian chicks, one of which is hot and I go out with them to get some dinner and beers. The only problem is this toolbag from BA tags along and since he can talk to them much easier than I can (Spanish and Portuguese) he monopolizes the conversation. He`s lucky I`m so cashed otherwise I would probably do nothing about it. I crash at 1am and sleep like a person who is recently deceased.
Jan 21, Monday, BA
Wake up and chill at the hostel till 3 as my boat doesn`t leave till 5. One of the Australian kids asked if I have seen his dad and I respond thankfully no, why the hell are you trying to find him anyway dude. I get extremely lucky and the travel gods shine their light down upon me once again. For some reason I didn`t check my bag which is strange but somehow I just missed the station where you do that at. So basically I screwed up. But the ironic thing is if I would have checked my bag I would have been fucked because I totally didn`t know I needed my Entry Card to leave Uruguay. Nobody told me this, I`m lucky I didn`t throw it away actually. The customs agent tells me I have to have it and I`m like oh shit, but I check my bag where all my books and shit are and thankfully I find it. If my bag would have been checked I have no idea what sort of beauracratic boshit I would have been subjected to. Sometimes my stupidity pays off in big big ways. I get back to BA and as I am walking to the metro (subway) I see a pretty sweet accident. This car totally rammed into the side of this other automobile and thankfully nobody was hurt but it was pretty cool since it happened right in front of me. I wondered how people could drive like they do here and never get into accidents. They drive like Mongolian warriors hopped up on speed balls but you never see accidents. Or so I thought. I just figured it was like controlled chaos like the Loyola Marymount basketball team when all they did was fast break and they had Bo Kimble, Hank Gathers (who shot free throws left handed for some reason) and everyone`s favorite honky Jeff Fryar.
Get back to the hostel and I find out my package hadn`t arrived yet. Shit. My parents sent it on the 7th, so it has been 14 days and this does not sit well with me. If I knew it wasn`t going to be here I could have stayed in Uruguay a bit longer. I notice a new girl is working there (Lucy) and she`s cute as all get out and cool to hang out with. I meet my two roomies, two Aussies, dude named Stuart (what an awful name) and Colleen. Stuart is a bit of a headcase but in a good way (at times) and has been traveling more or less for 5 years. 5 fucking years. He just picks up odd jobs whenever he needs more cake. He tells me this story that is pretty funny. The first time he met Colleen was when he was boning her little sister in the ass and Colleen walked into the room and that was their first encounter with each other. Great start to a beautiful relationship. They aren`t together just good friends I guess. Stuart is definitely goofy but he cracks really raunchy jokes which means I can crack really raunchy jokes and that I`ll have a ready made audience. Colleen is a super cool chick as she laughs at everything no matter how untasteful. They are going to this drum and bass show recommened by Lucy and they take off but I decide to be a nice guy once again and wait for her to get off (not in that way) at 9. We head over to some random place that is like an open area surrounded by warehouses and there are a bunch of iron stairs leading to this makeshift stage. Right when I got there though I knew that this place was awesome. Hippy`s and other bohemian type folk are everywhere dancing in what appears to be self imposed hallucinogenic trances. The music is phenomenal and the band consists of maybe 3 bongo drummers, snare drummer, 2 bass drummers, and some other fuckers playing random instruments. The scene was very hip and could have been an updated urban version of a much smaller woodstock. I think the beatniks would have dug it. I love the whole beat generation and their philosophy on life. Jack Kerouc and Neal Cassady are demigods. One of my favorite poems is called "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg and it truly incapsulates the Beatnik movement and probably sprung it. It was read for the first time at one of the most famous poetry readings ever to take place, the Six Gallery in San Francisco in 1955. I can only imagine what it would have been like to be there, you had to have known that something special was taking place. Anyways, check out the poem if you want. Anyways squared, we get some beer and meet up with the Aussies and Santiago. Hang out till the place shuts down, go back to the hostel (Monday is the dead night in BA) and knock back some more beers and just chill with everyone.
Observation: I have truly never seen so many people with casts then I do in SA. It`s unbelievable how many broken bones there are down here. Maybe these people should start drinking milk or something. The casts are complete boshit too, half the time it just looks like someone took papermache and wrapped it around someoneīs arm. Man, I really hope I don`t get fucked up down here.
Fin
Comments
Howl
That is one fucking long poem bro. Pretty sweet though. Need some time to contimplate some of the phrasing. Thanks for the suggestion.