What’s this wet spot?
Made it to Granada yesterday with surprising ease. Only barely got lost finding the hostel (just overshot it at first by half a block) and met up with my old friend, catching up on the lives of people I haven’t seen in years. Good day.
I’m still adjusting my reality to traveling. Physically I am sporting my nice sunburn (recovering from that Belgian sun’s kindness, I guess) and two sets of blisters, one from the sandals the other from the flip flops. I started wearing my shower flip flops out after Jenny (of need-to-dance fame) laughed at my “Jesus shoes” (they’re Teva’s for crying out loud) and how us Americans wear the worst footwear.
And I’m adjusting my notions of behavior to accept the 20 person dorms. Like the guy in the bunk above me last night who woke up at 4:30 AM, rummaged around shaking the bed until I was well awake, ponderously climbed down and went through his locker next to my head with his flashlight shining in my eyes, left, came back, climbed back up, fiddled, climbed down, locker, then finally left.
This morning I opened my eyes to see a big wet red patch on the mattress next to me. Too light to be blood, but far too dark to be water. Not the best first sight upon waking, gotta love bunk beds.
But I talked to him a bit ago and it is shampoo. Whew. I think he felt bad because he spent the next 20 minutes giving me every tip he knows about this area, so tomorrow I may head down to some relatively deserted islands…once I put out of my mind the story the other guy told me about getting robbed by three dudes with masks and machetes on the beach just outside San Juan del Sur.
Good old traveling! Now, time for that shower.