Monday, September 06, 2004
My last day in an internet cafe (for a while). Maybe now I will be less of an email addict? or not...
I´m looking forward to cranberry juice. I`m looking forward to....um....
I WILL MISS IT HERE SOOOO MUCH.
kinda juvenile, but thats the sentiment. Though, indeed some of the novelty is wearing off- I walked past a bunch of places this weekend that now have all sorts of memories attached to them, which makes everything more familiar but also wraught with perhaps unwanted sentiment.
For the grand last night out, a dinner with the girls and a huge steak, followed by (of all places) an expat bar called (of all things) Shamrock. and, at 3:30 AM, Max and I and a Brit and his argentine girlfriend made it to Metropolis, this huge cumbia club. a totally totally totally different atmosphere from all the techno, uppercrust type places we`ve (or rather, I actually didn´t so much) frequented. The woman who checked my bag at the front went so far as to open EVERY tiny pocket on my wallet. A coastal beat, for hours on end. A live band up on a platform, swinging around the shirts people tossed them. A young crowd, and the occasional extremely scantily clad transvestite. and me perched on Max`s shoulders, trying to catch the rhythm. And when we stumbled out at 5 AM, the bouncer gently prodded us away from the entrance, saying, they were expecting a fight, and they didn´t want us to get caught in it.
I´m looking forward to cranberry juice. I`m looking forward to....um....
I WILL MISS IT HERE SOOOO MUCH.
kinda juvenile, but thats the sentiment. Though, indeed some of the novelty is wearing off- I walked past a bunch of places this weekend that now have all sorts of memories attached to them, which makes everything more familiar but also wraught with perhaps unwanted sentiment.
For the grand last night out, a dinner with the girls and a huge steak, followed by (of all places) an expat bar called (of all things) Shamrock. and, at 3:30 AM, Max and I and a Brit and his argentine girlfriend made it to Metropolis, this huge cumbia club. a totally totally totally different atmosphere from all the techno, uppercrust type places we`ve (or rather, I actually didn´t so much) frequented. The woman who checked my bag at the front went so far as to open EVERY tiny pocket on my wallet. A coastal beat, for hours on end. A live band up on a platform, swinging around the shirts people tossed them. A young crowd, and the occasional extremely scantily clad transvestite. and me perched on Max`s shoulders, trying to catch the rhythm. And when we stumbled out at 5 AM, the bouncer gently prodded us away from the entrance, saying, they were expecting a fight, and they didn´t want us to get caught in it.
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