THE UGLIEST AMERICAN 3: Keep Yourself To Your Hand

Trip Start Nov 04, 2006
Trip End Dec 03, 2006

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Wednesday, November 8, 2006

THE UGLIEST AMERICAN 3: Keep Yourself To Your Hands

What can I say about the island of Utila that Robert Louis Stevenson hasnīt already? It has been a home to Robinson Crusoe, a hideout for pirates, and an exile for mutinous slaves. It also happens to be a kick ass place to sip a rum cocktail. But turn your gaydar off and worry not, yīall, I havenīt touched the hard stuff yet. Do not want problems. Iīm writing this during a break in my diving class. Thatīs right, my friends, I came to dive and dammit I will dive. WE ALL WILL DIVE!!! Ok, so far all Iīve done is watch DVDs and drink coffee. Which really is a typical Saturday at my house. Except for there are no BARRACUDAS at my house!!!!!

As yet another tangent, Iīm asking that nobody tell me who won any elections. Iīm going to TiVo them (2nd reference this trip). Iīm pretty sure it will be Pedro. Donīt sweat it, I voted ahead of time. Twice. I believe in a 7 party system, one for each day of the week. Green, Independence, Libertarian, Cobra Kai. . . you get the picture.

Speaking of pictures, I got some cool ones that I have not had a chance to post. Utila is pretty laid back. The drug dealers are up during my morning walk and the kids are this weird hybrid of about a million different cultures. English is widely spoken and the usual feral dogs are cooler than normal.

Fave songs of moment:
Rockford Mules "Pilot Light"
Willie Nelson "Me And Paul"
Norah Jones and Ryan Adams "Dear John" (Gay what you will, I like thith thong)

I have not written for several days because I havenīt had a lick of time and that is no lie. Hereīs why:

When we last left me, I was in La Ceiba, Honduras on the Caribbean. I took a taxi from the bus station and got on a ferry. I shared the cab with a young Ohian who shared a little bit too much about hookers and how he worked in the Peace Corp. One step back, one step forward or something like that. The ferry was chill as the sun went down. Got a little seasick reading my Colin Fletcher book. But whatev. . Got to Utila in time to look for a Dive School to go with. They all charge the same price but I was looking to see which place has the best complimentary rooms. For future reference, DO NOT BASE YOUR DIVING SCHOOL DECISIONS ON A PRIVATE BATHROOM AND A CENTRALIZED LOCATION TO THE BARS. That was my PSA. What I got from my lunacy was a 2nd rate (and I am being generous) Dive Unit. They are called Underwater Vision and they are a bit shady. Faulty equipment like leaky hoses and masks, cracked fins, and whatnot. The divemasters looked hungover-stoned-impatient half the time. They actually had a marijuana plant in their courtyard. Classy.

Once on our 2nd real dive, two instructors almost came to blows because they forgot a compass. Another divemaster confided in me that he had not had a drink in 3 weeks. Pair this "devil may dive" attitude with my ADD and you have the makings of an undersea emergency. My dive mate cheated off my exam, didnīt do homework, and made a puppet show with the respirators. Marvo, he is the one watching my back. Way back! Our classes dragged on because he never read the book.

I, of course, was a model student on day 1 until I freaked out about 20 seconds down on our first dive. But in my defense, the only diving IīVE done doesnīt apply to maritime law, Right? I DID NOT like my first dive but I didnīt sit on a bus for a million hours to sit on the beach and relax. . . wait a minute. What sucks is the homework and lack of time for carrying on and/or answering emails

When all is said and done at the end of the day, I just did not have time to write this blog, so I havenīt been able to update you with some of the newer developments. They are coming though.

The food here has been amazing and plentiful. Nothing but seafood outside of a BLT. Last night I had my barracuda steak grilled (sharktastic). Iīve also consumed my share of ceviche, tuna, wahoo and today, a shrimp po boy with vinegar onions. Very good.

Observations on Utila: pedestrians are nothing but road cones for all the damn motorcycles on the ONE street that they have. The BLTs? Ask em to hold the ketchup (?), Plumbing and Electricity? Sometimes. Punctuality? Occasionally. Professionalism? Shirtless but WITH pants.

Finally, I have to talk to you about my burgeoning impatience with many Israelis on this and other trips. Sometime I will go into more detail. But stereotypes gotta start somewhere. And if that makes me racist, then I can only say what I know and see and the rest is up for argument.

On a less controversial note, I totally hate jerking off in tropical heat. Hence the title.

Peace Love and Loving Oneīs Self,

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