(I was expecting a news stall, which would be commonly found near a market, but. . . . A bar. . . .ok. . . . )
Dixon then turns around to finish the thing of which he said he would, and spends no more than 20 boondollars dollaridoos on food, to return to the hotel.
With 20 dollaridoos in your hand, you go towards a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Using the universal language of pointing and nodding, along with the occasional grunt, you manage to get four large fried fish tacos to go and a six pack of some local brand of beer. Not a bad haul at all.
You head to the hotel, food in hand. The clerk at the desk hand you your room key. It seems James got you two rooms with two single beds each, but the clerk says he'll give the second key when the rest of your friends arrive. At least you think that's what he said, his english wasn't all that great. You enter room 24. It's a basic hotel room. Two beds, two chairs, a small table, a closet and a large window.
Get to the bar, order a light drink, some sort of ale, probably. Use French to speak with the bartender. It should be similar enough to what this lot can understand.
And if not, try to order the same in Spanish (or Portuguese, if this is actually in Brazil). My knowledge of these particular languages should be far more limited, presumably.
Wait, did I even see where this was on the map?
Anyway, if all that works, converse with the locals as well. Once again, try French, then attempt Spanish, then try to bluff out some Portuguese.
You remember vaguely seeing that this is a coastal town on the east coast of Latin-America. On the north coast of Venezuela.
You attempt to order an ale from the bartender in french, but the man just sort of shrugs. He slides you a sort of menu, where the available beverages are badly translated into several languages. You order a local ale and try to mingle with the local townsfolk. You turn to the glum looking guy beside you and say hello in french. The man just gives you a sideways glance before going back to nursing his drink. From behind you, however, you hear:
"Eh. Ami. Rejoigne-nous a notre table!" Thankful to have someone that understands what you're saying, you get up and join the man at his table. The one who spoke is a very tan and very old man who tells you he originally came from Haiti. Next to him a slightly less ancient man who seems to be the other guy's friend, who speaks spanish.
Oops, my bad. Completely forgot to post somehow.
Dump my stuff at the hotel. Take a walk around the outskirts of the town. Get the lay of the land.
You go to the hotel and dump your stuff in room 24. You take a walk outside, going all the way to the outskirts. The roads seem pretty lackluster, and there is no kind of public lighting to speak of. The town seems somewhat isolated, with a rather dense vegetation in every direction. You do see trucks comeing in and out of town rather regularely. Some bringing in supplies, while others pick up bananas and fish. You also spot a rather large hill in the east, overlooking the compound.
Author
Topic: Roll to Quixote Organisation: search and rescue (waitlist open) (Read 10627 times)