Here Chewing Your Tail Is Joy

Awake on-time but without a sober thought in my head. Breakfast of coffee, fruit juice, chorizo and eggs barely scratches the sides. Get a taxi canalwards with jose, talking half-drunkenly whilst the taxi driver turns into a tour guide. As canal's go it's impressive. As canals go.

Our timing is perfect at least, just as the last boats of the morning pass through, watching from the viewing station whilst sipping extortionate coke and an American voice drones facts in the background. The coke doesn't do enough to save my hangover and so head back for failed afternoon nap attempt. Jose departs, Peru bound, and I spend 2 hours attempting to play ping-pong with Esther. My self promoted ping pong skills were greatly exaggerated, she wins 21-5, 21-4, 21-8, 21-9, and the hostel is so hot that a thin water glaze covers my skin and my face reddens, and this is clearly not embarrassment or exertion.

Tea pizza, toasted sandwiches with red wine accompaniment and then hostel return for the promise of live music, but the advertised reggae is some terrible Spanish blink 182-lite and so back into the streets in a search for something more refined. A Havana style salsa bar looks amazing, red curtains and a huge dance floor whilst drinkers surround and the band warms up, but its a $10 cover and indecisiveness pushes us elsewhere.

There´s places which look more like houses than bars that we can apparently drink in but settle for a graffitied yard and litres of Balboa whilst a Colombian guy provides commentary on the world as he sees it, of water, atoms, whales, dolphins and head massage tools and then onwards, still avoiding the lure of front room drinking and finally a packed bar and live music and stumbled over dance moves and caipirinha strong enough to shake my balance.

Finally home once more, the rum now flowing fast but the time faster until near daylight and 6 hours sleep. Hastily assemble uneven pancakes, not quite solving the hangover equation. Attempt to get out the city, away from the noise, cars, people, escape to tranquillity. Taxi with Esther and Evelien to a bus station full of balloons, soundtracked by club tunes, a little too much fun for a hazy Saturday morning. Esther disappears for an international travel ticket purchase mission and we try to find the bus to the hiking trail.

A 40-minute wait so pursue a shopping mall swimshort purchase plan and then 40-minutes becomes 10 and there's a lack of till urgency and then a mall sprint, but a wrong turn and we´re the wrong side of the station. Correct, run through bus station crowds and fast foot restaurants and there's a fumble for turnstile change and we need 5 cents but we don't have that and so back to a kiosk and finally through. One minute late and the bus is on time. Cursing and then a taxi plan, but to the wrong park, where they have lakes the size of ponds and mountains the size of mole hills.

The supposed 3 hours hike takes 45 minutes, but the view over the city is serene and the spot relaxed and so lie in long grass until clouds overtake the sky, then back to fish market cerviche fresh from the boat, a cup cheaper than a cheeseburger. Buy a second portion and call this my evening meal.

Another night in the same bar, the hangover resigns around the 3rd beer and quick switch to rum&coke and back again, and more caipirinha, a now familiar scene. Last to leave the bar for a third night running, a record of sorts, and then deep into Sunday morning and....