The sunburn I acquired from napping in the hammock is starting to fade and in its place I’m left with a face full of strange freckle constellations.
I speak no Spanish, which isn’t a problem if you never leave the hotel, but today I ventured out for lunch and ate something white and sort of potato-y but with a kind of bite and it was a little fibrous. It was delicious, but I don’t know what it was. I didn’t even know how to ask what it was. In fact, when I pointed at it and grunted so that the woman behind the counter would know I wanted it, I assumed it was some kind of fish.
I was pleasantly surprised.
I’ve done no sight-seeing, because my knee is still screwed up. But considering that my plan B has been sneaking onto the Hilton’s hammocks and living a life of leisure, I’m not complaining one bit.
If all of my foiled plans ended up with me sitting in the sun under a palm tree, that would be delightful.
Tiny Cat Pants 