Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[sonerohi]

EDIT:

I may just be stupid and can't find it, but what year are you in?

2009, same as most people.

Kagus is able to make zingers under any circumstance and that is why we love him.

But it does sound pretty painful to actually leave friends behind. I've yet to get to college where your class drops off like flies, but I don't think I'll be too sad then. Everyone at my school is a dick to me, which is why I read blags on the intertubes.

[Kagus]

Just realized that I've still got the key to that control room door.  However, by the time I get another chance to use it (the party next year), they will most likely have changed the lock to something more modern, and which allows the universal key the teachers have to function on it.

I'll have to ask that one other guy if he managed to make away with his universal key.  If he did, then we've got an entryway into that room regardless of whether or not the lock has been changed.


Anyways, I decided to check the security of this particular key (which is a rather old-fashioned and basic affair) by comparing it to the key used on my grandparents' downstairs bathroom door, which looked rather similar.

I found out that not only where they very similar, they were exactly the same.  I spent a few minutes locking and unlocking the bathroom door using the control room key.  Not only that, I think it's also the key we used during the filming of our "ten minute" film. 

So any teachers who are surprised by someone somehow managing to break the massive security barrier and get into this little control room should probably get their heads checked.  Just a suggestion.

[Kagus]

Accompanied by my grandfather's dog again...  Complete with the standard procedure of skunk farts and trying to lie down on my laptop.  I honestly have no idea how he manages to smell like that.  And how the hell does he manage to keep hitting that stupid wireless connection toggle on the side of my machine?

And he just kicked me for some reason.  Hard.  Crazy old bugger.

[Kagus]

Blugh.  Last night in Norway, plane takes off tomorrow.  Trying to pack a year's supply of junk into a suitcase and two bags, and it's just not working out as perfectly as one might hope.

I'm feeling stressed for some reason.  I just want the whole bleedin' trip to be over so I can sit back and relax, and forget about all my problems...


Except that I need to keep pushing to get us into the humor competition I mentioned a while back.  The deadline for sending in material is the fifth of June, and we need to get permission from the copyright holders of all the songs we used.  And it would appear that I'm the only person working on it, since all the others are too busy preparing for college or working at some summer job.

Mind you, if we win this thing, they won't need to go to college and we'd be raking in more cash than the summer job could ever hope to pay. 

They'd damn well better be grateful if I pull this thing off.  I'm the only non-Norwegian in our little group, and all the people I need to talk to are, of course, Scandinavian.  Dammit...


Gonna pack up my PC and grab a little bit of time with my anti-stress medication (guitar) before heading off to bed.  Hope I can get to sleep tonight...

[Kagus]

Ah, looks like I forgot to say I was back.  Well, I am.  Been home for a few days now.  Don't have a whole hell of a lot of time to chit-chat right now, but I figured I could at least link y'all to the videos we're going to be sending in to the competition (more on that later, there have been a couple developments regarding what it is exactly we can expect to get).

It's all in Norwegian, and a bit dialect-heavy at that, but if you feel like giving us some five-star ratings just out of the kindness of your heart, I won't stop you.

Ingenting:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yHKBgjAuvA

Nansen & Amundsen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATkS5uS_fzI

Kronisk Ubrukelig:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d05kt6UK4ps


Cheers.  Since olemars seems to be the only Norsky around here, the rest of you will just have to take his word for how incredibly funny all this junk is.

...  All in all, I'm not particularly happy with having to send this stuff in, instead of our better constructions.  But, hey, work with what you've got.

[florian]

Is this finished? Aren't there some missing parts? Cuba, the last days at school, that stuff?

Anyway, excellent stuff. Any hints about the next adventure?

[sonerohi]

Next up, we build a rocket so Kagus can tell us about space and the moon. He is our life-experiences guinea pig, so we can experience all the cool cultures and such of the world without leaving the house.

[Kagus]

Sorry for the delay, but between Hawaii and laziness I haven't gotten around to writing out the rest of the stuff.

And yes, there is quite a bit left to be said.  I'm just really, really not looking forward to listening to my Cuba logs, which-...

Wait a second, lemme check something...

Oh, good, they're still there.  My phone had to be reset to factory standards recently, and that meant some information got wiped.  Just got a sick feeling that the recordings might have been included in the purge.

Anyways, I'm not looking forward to listening to the Cuba logs, since I am decidedly more eloquent in writing than I am talking to a little box.  I mumble, grunt, and punctuate my statements with very long pauses while I try to figure out the most efficient way of getting the information down so that I remember it. 

None of this is helped by the constant fear that someone is listening to me record the log.  And laughing hysterically.


Just to add to the discomfort, my phone only has "stop", "skip", "play" and "pause" controls for listening to recordings.  No fast forward or rewind.

Normally, I'd just transfer them over to the computer and use my awesomely powerful audio playback programs (Winamp and Media Player) to manipulate the rascally little things.  The only problem with this is that the recordings are saved as .AMR files, which I've never even heard of.  Apparently, I'll need to find and download some special program to play the stupid things.


Going to go twiddle my thumbs for a bit before I convince myself to do something constructive, but before I go I'd like to give an update on what happened with the humor competition.

Since I was out of the country, I felt it would be best if one of the other guys from FTV sent in the application forms (which require address, phone number and so forth), so that it would be more readily acceptable.  After calling around to some of the guys, I discerned the following:

One didn't really feel like doing anything, but wanted to be kept posted on how we were doing.
One didn't have time to send in the application, due to household chores and work.
One is slightly useless when it comes to this sort of thing, and is a notorious procrastinator (didn't actually call him, didn't really see the point)
One couldn't be reached, and
One was busy getting drunk with the one who couldn't be reached.

I finally managed to contact the last guy on the list, and told him about how I was going to be in Hawaii, and how I thought it would be best if someone from up north would send in the application (this would be the first thing they would actually contribute to the effort).  He said he'd be happy to help, but he was currently between addresses and didn't really know where he lived yet, so he wouldn't be able to fill out the form.  I said that was fine, so long as he talked with the other guys up there and got this thing figured out.  He said he would do that, and I believed him.

Fast forward about three weeks.  I've just gotten back from Hawaii, and I have access to the internet.  I go to the host site of the competition and start browsing through the items that have been sent in.

I search through three months worth of junk, and find not a mention of our work.

I then go to YouTube and look at the various accounts that handle that end of the competition.  Our account has nothing to do with them, and has in fact shown very little activity at all.


I'm looking very forward to calling that dude up again and asking him why I can't find our stuff on the lineup.

[Kagus]

Day 1, American in Cuba, continued.

Right, the money exchange.  Having received both a temporary loan from the teacher and the wired funds from my dad, I was friggin' LOADED with cash.  When handing in my Euros to get changed into CUC's, the teller had to go into the back room and grab another wad of cash in order to accommodate me (it wasn't until after I'd gotten back from Cuba that I checked and discovered the guy had goofed and shorted me ten pesos.  I probably should've counted the money there and then, but I think I can handle a ten peso "handling fee", when I would've had to run through 500+ pesos to figure it out).

I still had several Euros in my wallet since I'd rounded off the amount I gave him, but I didn't really think I needed any more CUC's.  My wallet was already stupidly fat with the massive amount of cash wadded in there.  The smallest size bill I had was a fifty...

Now that we were cashed up and ready to go, it was time to lighten that burden a little bit. To do this, we took a trip out to this little coastal fort that had been transformed into a tourist spot, with several stores boasting a wide variety of Gardam Forner-directed wares.

It was here that we found a cigar shop which, according to the guide, was *the* place to pick up cigars.  This combined with the fact that it was also the first place, led to quite a number of people picking up cigars.

Except, of course, for me with all my money.  I actually didn't buy a single thing in any of those stores.  I seriously considered getting a can of soda or something, but asking the cashier to break a fifty so I could give him the one-peso cost of a drink didn't really appeal to me.

I was actually planning on buying some cigars, but for whatever reason I didn't...  I did, however, learn a bit about Cuban cigars.

Cigars were generally sold in three groups.  Mild, Medium, and Strong.  Each strength level had its own champion brand, which supposedly sold the best example of that particular group.  These ranged from the mild "Romeo & Juliet", to the strong "Monte Cristo", to the in-between "Cohiba", which held the unique distinction of being the best Cigar brand in Cuba.  The cream of creams, so to speak.

The cigars of course came in different sizes, ranging from stubby little ones barely longer than your thumb, to the full-length whoppers that could easily be mistaken for a man's attempt at "compensating".

My compatriot, a man known for his taste in both hats and cigars, was practically shivering with the thought of having to pick a limited number of these beauties.  If he'd had the money, I really do think he would have bought the whole damn store and stayed there for the rest of the trip.

Unable to make up his mind, he settled for a "sampler pack" from Cohiba, that included one cigar in each of their sizes.  He also bought a three-pack of standard Cohibas (around 5-6 inches), and two Monte Cristo "A"s.  These were the top-of-the-line from Monte Cristo, titanic compound masses of tobacco that had earned the distinction of being packaged individually in specially-made lacquered wood boxes with sliding tops.  They even came with certificates of authenticity.

To be continued again...


Yeah, I'm finally back at it.  This was a lot easier than I was afraid it might be, so I'll hopefully be able to put in a fair number of words tomorrow.  Time permitting...

[Kagus]

Day 1, American in Cuba, continued.  Again.

After clogging up the smoke shop with smoke (several people lit up the instant the money changed hands), we wandered around the fort for a while longer and took some photos from atop the many lookout positions.

It was starting to get around lunchtime, so we loaded back onto the bus and set out for food. 

Lunch had been prearranged at this one particular cafe, so we had tables waiting for us.  We'd also had our meals preordered, as the food simply came to us as we sat there and discussed the sights, sounds and smells of earlier in the day.

About halfway through the salad, someone made the brilliantly timed observation that the vegetables were most likely washed with Cuban tapwater, which was essentially the biggest scare factor of the entire trip.

I considered three things in my head.  One, I'd already eaten most of my "salad" (cabbage with lime juice).  Two, I was hungry.  Three, it tasted pretty good after what I'd had for breakfast.

I decided that I had already eaten enough to bugger me up real good if it was indeed contaminated, so there wasn't much sense in leaving the rest.  So I not only finished off the rest of my plate, but also those around me who had developed a sudden fear of cabbage.

After the salad we were served a simple dish of fish, beans and rice.  I was ecstatic.  Everyone else was groaning (they're Norwegians, dammit!  How can they *not* like fish?).  But, hey, that meant more for me.

Dessert was flan, and at least THIS everyone was willing to eat.


One little thing about Cuba...  Easily the most popular street scam to get tourist money is the act of drawing caricatures.  They simply spot someone who looks like a good mark, sidle up to them, and follow them along while they draw their likeness on a sheet of paper.  They then attempt to sell that likeness to the person in question.

Now, for all their money-acquiring nature, these guys have some truly horrible business sense.  First, they will walk alongside someone and draw their picture.  Without asking, and often without even being noticed.  When they've finished with their work, they will then simply hand the finished portrait off to their -still walking- mark.  Then, without saying anything, they will expect to get paid.

I managed to feign stupidity (or lack of funds) and get away with a couple caricatures of myself for free.  Honestly, never do something until you've gotten paid to do it...


After lunch we went back to the hotel to chill out.  And by "chill out", I of course mean go to the roof and roast in the sun for a while.  Not much to say here.

Later on in the evening, we went out for dinner and a show at a different hotel.  We filed in to a great big room with several long tables radiating out from a semicircular dance floor in front of a stage.  We sat down, and were promptly served a meal which was...  Well, it was actually pretty lame.  Especially for me, since it was mostly meat.  I ended up eating everyone else's portions of rice and beans, since they wanted nothing to do with the stuff.

The drinks that came with it, on the other hand, were quite interesting...  Quite interesting in that an entire school of students who had received strict orders not to touch a single drop of alcohol while in Cuba had just been served a round of the most potent Cuba Libres they'd ever encountered.

Since we technically hadn't ordered them, someone asked the teachers if it was okay to drink them.  They actually gave the go-ahead.

Now, this would be fine under normal circumstances, when you're served a standard dinner-type drink that just happens to have some alcohol in it.  But these things were nasty...  They tasted so foul that no one would drink more than a couple sips before swearing off the damn thing. And even then, they were mostly just drinking it because they were allowed to.  These things tasted almost like they were half-and-half mixes.

So you're probably imagining a load of students simply pushing their drinks aside and staring mournfully into the distance at being gipped.  While that may have been true for most of them (a few tried experimenting with the concoction to try and make it more palatable), there was one noted individual, a guy from my class, who thought they tasted pretty damn good.  So good, in fact, that he eagerly accepted all the rejected glasses from those around him.

He was having a preeetty damn good time after the sixth one...

Luckily, he managed to control his drunkenness.  If he had exhibited full-scale stumbling about, there was a high likelihood he would have been kicked out of the school for imbibing liquor "while on school grounds".  If that happened, he'd have to find his own way home from Cuba.

After some time the show started up.  Most of it was just a bunch of glitter, flash, and malfunctioning microphones.  But there were a lot of very scantily-clad dancers (male, female, and uncertain), and a couple attractions that were quite entertaining.  Including one contortionist who put me to shame by sitting on her own head.


Another note on Cuba...    Cuba is filled to the brim with music.  On the streets, in the cafes, in the buses, everywhere they can fit a speaker.  If they could afford it, they'd even scatter them through the palm trees and have them blasting out tunes 24/7.

A peculiarity of this music is that most of the songs they play are western songs that have been salsa-ized, with an extra beat added and all the lyrics translated into spanish.  These included not only such time-honored salsa beats as "Dust in the Wind" and "Killing Me Softly", but also "Happy Birthday".

Now all this music is just fine if you happen to like salsa.  Well, what happens if you don't?  What happens if you, like my companion, begin to hear the similarities between "Guantanamera" and "Nails on a Chalkboard" after the fifteenth time of hearing the revered Cuban classic?  Well, then you go completely bat-honk insane, as it is impossible to escape this stuff.


And that about does it for Day 1.  There might be something I'm missing, but it will either turn up or it won't.  And seeing as I've already used three posts on Day 1, I think it qualifies as a pretty frikkin' full day as it is.

[Kagus]

Day 2, Title.

Another hotel breakfast, followed by packing up into the bus and getting shipped out to a cigar factory.  Pulling up to the front gate, we got to sit around and observe the bulky armed guards who were leering at everyone passing by while the teachers went in and talked with whoever was in charge in order to confirm our tour.

Cameras were strictly forbidden, as were any other image-capturing device.  Those who had them were forced to leave them on the bus.  The reason for this was, now get this, to prevent American terrorists from getting the intel needed to bomb the place.  I happened to get quite a (silent) giggle out of this.  Not necessarily because of the absurdity of the idea (not enough to laugh at, sadly), but merely because the roles were so completely reversed.

I also happened to conveniently forget that my phone could take pictures.  I didn't really feel like leaving it on the bus.

The tour was interesting.  The tour guide was exceptionally talkative, highly energetic, and quite entertaining.  Just as a tour guide should be.

He showed us around the facility and showed us the various stages involved in making a cigar.  He took us to the sorting room, where numerous people sat at little stations on the floor and plucked leaves from a box.  They would strip the leaf if it had any imperfections or weakpoints, and the leaves that made it through this process while maintaining the correct shape and dimensions were laid over a small bar in front of the worker.  The rest (including the scraps) went into another box, to either be discarded or made into lower quality products.  The guide was kind enough to give some of the classmates sample leaves from the discard boxes.  My compatriot was one of them.

He looked like he wanted to eat the damn thing.  I'd never seen his eyes light up that much.

The guide also mentioned how they tried to hire mostly women, because women were better at stuff like this.  Ironically, he was standing right next to the station of a man who was without a doubt the fastest and most efficient laborer in there.

We then moved into the rolling room, where people sat along long tables and worked their magic on the leaves that passed the bar exam (hyuk hyuk hyuk) from the other room.  For those of you who were wondering, no they do not lick the cigars to seal them anymore.  Now they just smear some pasty white goo on it, which is much better.

After getting rolled, the cigars are placed into racks where they get squeezed into shape and packed together so they stay whole.

Moving on to the next room, we get to see how the cigars get sorted.  Processed tobacco leaves will naturally have varying shades of brown.  The cigars reflect this by coming out in various degrees of darkness.

What the sorter has to do is group the cigars by color, so that when they're packed into a box they have a uniform shade and thus look prettier.  They're also in charge of sorting out "irregular" cigars from the pack.

It happens to be in the sorter's interest to find numerous imperfect cigars...  Because since they're considered "trash" by the company's standards, they have no problem with giving the rejects to the workers as a fringe benefit.  Just be careful of how many cigars you deem unsuitable for purchase...

After the factory (an adult American got in, was given a tour, and had a camera phone all the time.  Great anti-terrorism work, guys) we took off to the José Martí monument, which is a massively tall tower with one elevator.  One elevator that could hold a maximum of ten people at a time.

The line was murder, but the view was quite nice.  We could look at the famous School Bus Burial Grounds, the renowned Flock of Disturbingly Close Vultures, or Che Guevara.  All from very very very very very high up.  Managed to give my scare victim another spook while she was staring out the window.  As was to be expected, she didn't appreciate the subtle humor in the gesture.

Once we were done looking out from tall places, we headed over to the Capitol Building lookalike for another little tour.  The building sits on top of Havana's Kilometre Zero, as depicted by a sizable gem (I forget if they still keep the real one in the ground or if they swapped it out with a fake for safe keeping.  Kinda ruins the point, but whatever).

I like to call El Capitolio "the Off-White House", due to its rather disheveled state.  But that would be better if it were a replica of the White House, and not the Capitol Building.

On the steps of the building, just as we were heading up to take the tour, I had another dude do a drawing of me.  However, I don't think I was his original mark...   My compatriot was walking ahead of me, and I saw this guy tailing him (he's a popular target for the artists, due to his distinctive apparel).  I suspect that my compatriot ended up walking too fast, so the guy lost him.  Instead, he looked at the next man down the line, made a couple adjustments, and tried to pass it off as me.

The result is...  Well, it still makes me laugh even to look at it now.  It can only be described as "a caricature gone wrong.  Gone terribly, terribly wrong..."

As such, it is of course a prized possession.  The dude tried to get me to pay him 10 CUC's for the thing, but I didn't feel like paying.  So, naturally, I didn't have so much as a centavo on me.  Again, fantastic business savvy on his end.


Alright, it's past 1:07 in the morning, and I actually feel tired.  I'll just have to pick this up tomorrow.  At this rate, I *might* actually finish talking about the twelve days of Cuba before 2010 rolls around.

[Kagus]

Day 2, Title, continued.

After the Capitol visit where we got to hear about all sorts of interesting stuff (when you're taken on a tour of the various waiting rooms, you know you've hit a truly enthralling location...), it was time for-

<<There seems to be a light discrepancy in my records here.  I'm listening to myself describe lunch from the day before, with the added note on a certain series that was playing on the restaurant's TV (basically, Candid Camera based around sex and great jiggly titties.  Loads o' fun).  I'll skip past this point as I really don't know what happened, and just carry on through to what I start babbling about afterwards.  Sorry for any inconvenience.>>

-and that was that.  When we were finished, everyone split up classwise to go to certain places that were tailored for each major.  Music went around checking out various street musicians before heading over to a music store, Interior Design wandered around areas that were built during various architectural periods, Clothing Design looked at hats and shirts, Film and TV went to a boxing ring...

Yes, that's right.  We went to go see some boxing.  Apparently, that has something to do with movies and filming.

Well, the real reasons are of course:
1) It would be essentially impossible to get in to see a filming of one of Cuba's many short films, due to language constraints and not having any contacts
2) Getting in to see one of these movies in a theater would be rather pointless, since we didn't speak Spanish and they didn't have English (or Norwegian) subtitles.
3) Our teacher, presiding over an all-male class, thought it would be an excellent time to reaffirm his masculinity by taking us all to see some good, old-fashioned violent sports, where large, sweaty men roughly fondle each other in their underwear.


We didn't get to the gym right away though.  Or, at least, not the official-official one.  First we stopped off at a little patch of dirt on the side of the road, where a very white person was teaching a class of exuberant youngsters about the manly sport of boxing.  It was, of course, quite difficult to keep their attention focused on him, due to the large bus full of foreigners that had just pulled up and was gawking at them.

After some tentative first glances and movements, communication was initiated.  I forget who started it, but it wasn't long before both sides (Busboys and Boxerbuddies) were in full communicative force, gesturing and gesticulating for the amusement of the other party.

The coach barked, and all the kids immediately scuttled back into position.  We exited the bus and watched them for a bit.


It was around this time that we were introduced to someone who also happened to be checking out the local boxing establishments...   That is to say, the monstrously huge and imposing Olympic gold medalist boxer Félix Savón Fabre.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Red shirt, in the middle.

(He's hunched over)

We got to shake hands wi- holy sh* dude, that's not a hand, that's a goddamn FRYING PAN.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Seriously, look at the muscles on the back of that thing

Anyways, we all got to shake hand-alternatives with him.  He seemed to take a particular liking to a pal of mine, and expressed this affection by punching him in the jaw.  Y'know, a little love-tap.

Poor sap almost died of fright.

Anyways, we all got to stand around, talk, and observe how these youngsters were being taught.  Felix was standing by, approvingly, and occasionally making small corrections to the childrens' form (he was a rather quiet bloke...   I think I remember him saying all of three words in the entire time I was in his general vicinity).

but then something interesting happened.  I was standing there, talking with my pal (same one who got socked), when all of a sudden Felix comes over with a massive grin on his face.  Then, not saying a word, he hands over a pair of boxing gloves to the chap.

We exchange a couple glances and smile somewhat uncertainly to Felix, who we have absolutely no intention of annoying in any way. 

As we're trying to figure out WHY he just handed my partner a couple gloves, we see him walking over to the equipment box and start strapping on a pair of his own.


A light goes on.  My compatriot's face, normally quite ruddy, is mysteriously pale.  Felix motions for him to put on the gloves.

This should be interesting.


Yes, that's right.  The 6'5" three-time heavyweight Olympic gold medalist just challenged one of the F&TV guys to a match.  We all begin making peace with our soon-to-be-departed friend.

The match starts up with all the formal hubbub being arranged by the coach, and all the skitterish prancing about being handled by my friend.  Felix, of course, is just beaming that smile of his.

To his credit, the FTV guy did try to land a hit or two.  But for being as large as he is, Felix is a boxer, not a brawler.  That means he's damn agile, and trained in the age-old art of "Not Getting Hit".  The closest swing was about six inches away from  any part of Felix's body, and that's just because he was caught off-guard.

The real worry wasn't so much boxing with this guy...   He seemed nice enough, and not at all inclined to actually hurt anybody.  What was the main point of concern was doing something aggressive and potentially setting off an instinctual counterattack reflex.  He wouldn't mean to do it, but when you've been provided with a chance to look at your own bacne without aid of a mirror, I don't think you'd be all too concerned with whether or not it was intentional.

But that didn't happen.  Well, not quite so drastic, anyways...   Felix did end up throwing a punch, and it connected with a resounding *thwack* that made quite a nice addition to the Cuba video.  Interestingly enough, the FTV guy barely registered that he'd been hit.  It just sounded a heck of a lot bigger than it was.

Especially when I tweaked the film later and added that explosion sound effect...  But that's another story.


Anyways, with all that taken care of and out of the way, we bid the little fighters adieu and made our way to where the big boys flaunt their oily, muscled bodies.  In a purely heterosexual way, of course.

Felix was also headed that way, so we got to see some more of him.  \

The gym was open, so we got to check out what was happening on the streets (and rooftops...) at the same time as we were watching the adolescents below punch each other in highly entertaining fashions.

I mean, just look at how much fun we're having!

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

See?  Third one from the left is actually smiling absently!

(I should probably mention that the Sports/Outdoorsmanship class was accompanying us for our boxing rounds.  Herr Doktor-Professor Jewfro near the end there is not one of ours)

After we had had our fill of sweaty manflesh repeatedly slapping against more sweaty manflesh, we headed on down to Chinatown.

Well...   Chin Street, actually.  With the economy as it is, Havana is unable to support a full Chinatown, and had to instead opt for one avenue dedicated to Eastern cuisine.

They also were apparently fresh out of Chinese people, as everyone working in the restaurants was Cuban.

We wandered around for a bit before picking a prospective location, then plunked ourselves down at the two tables they had outside and took a look at the menu, and all the delicacies it promised.

Like...   Kung Pao Salsa...  Eeek...

We managed to find some items that looked vaguely edible and waited for the server to come back so we could place our orders.  While we sat there, we were entertained by mediocre street musicians (who fleeced us spectacularly.  I think they managed to hit 50CUC off of playing four songs), and by the Local Spectacle Theater.  Which is to say, the village idiot.

Now, this fellow appeared to be a somewhat retarded hunchback with a penchant for mischief and pranks...  He'd run around begging for money, pawing at the breasts of female passersby, and cackling throatily whenever a shopkeeper shooed him off.

He became mesmerized by a drum at one point, and shortly thereafter felt a wee bit tuckered out so he decided to sit down on a nearby doorstep.  While he was there, a small child came along and started poking him with a stick.  This went on for about fifteen minutes, until the kid's mother called him back.

I hope you don't think I'm making this up.


We then got the food which was...   Unremarkable. 

Unremarkable, that is, except for the cost, which was quite remarkable.  And I don't mean that in a good way.

After several checkings and re-checkings and subsequent recheckings of the hand-scribbled and meandering receipt, we determined that we were not being robbed via "mistakes" in the dish prices or sum addition.  The prices were still far higher than they needed to be.


So we squabbled a bit over who had what, decided on what we should pay, and removed ourselves from the premises.  Not having much else to do, we journeyed back towards the hotel and punched out for the night.

Damn it was nice to sit down...

[sonerohi]

Kaaaaaguuuuuuus.... uuuuuupdaaaaateeeeee.

[Kagus]

Yesyesyes, been busy chatting with hot girls.  And reading the forum.  And doing both at the same time.

Basically just procrastinating, really.  Nice to see there are still some diehards out there though.


I *will* get this wrapped up before I go back for the reunion party.

[sonerohi]

How hot? 7 or <?