El Tunco, take 2.

So, Kaj and I have been back in El Tunco for the last week or so. It´s miraculous how quickly a week spent in a hammock can pass. In my defense, I have also gone out for several more days of surfing, and have actually caught a wave or two (albeit not for very long). I need to learn how to do push-ups. I have a feeling that that would greatly improve my quality of life down here... or at least minimize my daily salt-water intake.

Another thing I´ve pegged as a priority on this trip is learning how to cook. Here is a photo of Kaj with a fish that we bought in the market. Somehow, while perusing the seafood aisle, we came to the conclusion that -- of course they would gut the fish for us... how could you sell it otherwise? ... and came home with this thing thinking we could just chop the head off and dump it in the oven. My, how very mistaken we were. Did you know that you also have to take the scales off? They don´t do that for you either. I pity the cleaning lady in Papaya´s hostel. I did the best I could to clean up, but considering that in our haste, we began mercilessly beating the thing against the counter, flinging scales and guts every which way... I wouldn´t be surprised if a chair was employed to get the last of the bits off the higher parts of the wall. It didn´t help that the dog got ahold of the bones when we were done either. It made for a very unpleasant morning... especially for the first person to step barefoot into the kitchen.

In addition, I have also spent the majority of this past week trying to learn how to click my heels... a lifelong aspiration that I´ve recently decided to try to fulfill. Here is where I got on my last day before I came up to Santa Ana. Let it be known that jumping around barefoot on a rocky beach is a stupid... stupid thing to do.

The locals had a good laugh though. Man, sometimes I can be such a stupid tourist.

Speaking of interactions with locals, on Saturday night, the lot of us from the hostel went out to the local cantina (the only cantina) to have a brew or two with the natives and try to assimilate with the local culture. The night somehow ended with an angry Salvadorean lady drawing back her arm to punch me in the face. The blow never landed, but I´m really not sure how we got there in the first place. It began with a mistake (or, rather 5 mistakes) on our tab which they refused to rectify. Who would drink Golden when you could get your hands on a Pilsener anyway? Anyhow, lesson learned- do not sass an angry latina. It will not bode well for the future of your teeth.

On the same night, we witnessed quite a bit of local flavor- B-boys, a Michael Jackson impersonator, and one guy doing freestyle flow in English, although I´m not sure why he´d choose a second language, since he apparently sucks at it. I got a little homesick thinking of my friends back home that could rip that guy a new asshole. Anyhow, the hip hop culture down here is really quite the same, except that all the music videos feature the artists fanning themselves with stacks of USD 10 bills. My, how comical an economic divide can be.

Anyhow, Uga is patiently waiting for me outside this internet cafe. Here is a picture of him as a kid that I doubt he´d let me upload if he knew what I was doing. It´s part of a goldmine I found in his sister´s bedroom. I will also add more under the ´El Salvador Photos´tab at the end of the week. There are some good ones.