After a really good mojito, a Cuba Libre tastes like crap. I
guess fresh mint is in short supply!- Damn.
Interesting to watch
the population around the pool:
A Japanese couple
roughly the same as age as yours truly- the wife wearing a life jacket in the
one meter end of the pool while the hubby walks around wearing swim goggles
while never immersing his face in the water,
A few feet over a
scrawny 65 year old wearing a Harley Davidson T has clearly never ridden
anything bigger than a two wheel bicycle in many years, if ever.
There are more boobs
hanging out here than at a topless show in Paris . Sadly most of them are attached to the
male segment of the crowd.
The mix of visitors to the resort seems to be evenly divided
between English and French Canadians and various Europeans.
Loudest by far seem
to be the French, but embarrassingly, the most obnoxiously intoxicated seem to
be the English Canucks.
Perhaps fearing that the resort might actually run out of
booze, many have taken up the challenge to ensure that they have absorbed more
than their quota. And while not as loud as Les Francais, they are clearly
demonstrating that not all the rednecks in the world talk like Jeff Foxworthy.
At 4pm the sun is
still shining, the sky virtually cloud free, our first day of the trip when we
have not been sprayed by some sort of rain shower. I am somehow reminded of the
Allan Sherman song “ Hello Muddah, Hello Father” aka Camp Granada
I’d still rather be
riding a local bus through Central America and
flopping in a $20 hotel for the night, but somehow I might actually get used to
this lazy life.
I had my first Scotch
in almost 10 years last night – VAT 69 [ I always thought that was the Pope’s
phone number!] Not the best, but a pleasant change from really bad rum!!!!!!
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