According to the date, this post is overdue.. but in actuality, it hasn't even been a month since my last post. Silly time-stamps--- date-posting is for kids.

I don't want to go too far into detail about Canoa and all the hijinx there, but I WILL tell you this--

1- Anybody who thinks that just because they're born in a town, they're automatically allowed to treat people however they want is delusional and small. Not today, you won't... and not while I'm here. Maybe you have more friends here, but I have no criminal history and can get to the border by sunrise. You really wanna push things?

2- Surfing is really something I think I can fall in love with. While pretty much NONE of it resembles what I do on the mountain (for example, I can't remember the last time the mountain pantsed me), there's really nothing better than going out and getting proper bludgeoned by the elements.

3- Apparently inviting people to come party with you is the exact same thing as saying "I'll put out". Did I miss something? After having a long, sit-down conversation with an eager-beaver about how I was NOT going to have sex with him, although he was welcome to sleep at my place, I thought I had finally reached an understanding,... until an unnamed Dutch aquaintance barged in, drank all my water, and then remarked "Don't worry... whatever she says- she's real easy. -hic!- REAL easy". Thanks a lot, bro.

So, Oscar, Josie, and myself left Canoa about a week ago. We braved the busride to Quito (7hrs), then another to the border (5hrs), and Oscar went on to Bogota (24hrs) while myself and an Ozzie made our way to Popayán (8hrs). To our surprise, EVERYTHING was full. Walking around at 2 in the morning after 20 hours of transit (which started with a hangover) is no fun. A cheeky policeman whom we asked for shelter offered me a place in his bed, and I damn near accepted. Do what you want... just don't wake me up.

In an effort to escape the hoards- Rob and I made our way to Buenaventura, a disgusting little port town on the Pacific Coast- then on to Juanchaco and Ladrilleros, an island out at sea reached only by a panic-filled, thoroughly vomit-inducing boat ride manned by this guy. Hahah. That's a real sea captain if I've ever seen one! Arriving battered, soaked, and suddenly aware that I didn't bring enough money for more than a couple days--- we checked into the first hostel that offered hammocks, only to realize that it was a horrible, horrible mistake. The room itself wasn't too bad. Rob's bed was okay, although mine resembled something out of the movie "Roots". It was the kitchen, and the owner himself. Since neither of us has much money, it was important that we could cook all the food we had brought with us from Buenaventura. Showing us the impressive kitchen, the owner claimed that we could cook whatever it was that we brought, and more. So much more.

We later came to find that the grease-filled pots may have come in all shapes and sizes... but there wasn't a single pan to be found. Plates, but no forks or spoons. THREE stoves, but no gas! We ended up trying to cook everything in the most assaulted rice cooker I've ever laid eyes on. I will not be held responsible for what came out of that thing! The owner also set up tours to go see the whales off the coast. Unfortunately, he neglected to tell anyone that the price was actually 25,000 instead of 20,000... and as well as neglecting to tell me that he would lock me into the hostel while he took everyone else out to see them! I ended up jumping onto a shivering huddle of neighborhood children that had interlocked their arms red-rover style. A diet of rice and beans really doesn't prepare you for 115 pounds of flesh heaved out of an upstairs balcony.

Happily, we managed to catch some waves (the entire purpose of the trip) early the following morning, and Rob rode some in before getting horrendously sunburnt. Arian people should always remember to load up on the 'screen. The burn looked freaking horrible, and he flinched every time I poked at it. If a hardened country boy from rural Tasmania says it hurts... it probably hurts a lot. Anyway, he ventured out to go find some aloe vera that afternoon, but somehow came back with a bottle of liquid laxative instead. I'm not sure what happened.