Running out of stuff to steal

Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
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Trip End Ongoing


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Sunday, May 6, 2012

I've managed to wake up with something resembling a golf ball at the back of my throat that makes it feel like I'm swallowing a piece of glass.  It's not too bad at the moment, but is certainly prone to getting worse as the day and week wears on.  I recognise it as Uvulitis, when that little dangly thing becomes inflamed and sore.  The last time I experienced this I was doing a children's schools tour with an anti bullying production.  I got wrecked the night before a show, kissed some local floozy and woke up with the grim reaper swinging his scythe around my larynx.  I'm not in for a nice few days.  This couldn't be closer to the truth.

I fight back the growing pain and join some friends to visit a bullfight in the mid afternoon.  A little bit of culture to ease the hang over.  It leaves us all bitterly disappointed.  You would expect Matadors, red cloaks and charging beasts, but it is actually a bull fight.  Two bulls having a square go.  At least they're meant to.  What we actually witness is a number of 'fights' where breeders desperately try to get the two animals to lock horns, while they just stare at the ground and wish they were somewhere else.  Sometimes they walk around a bit.  On the odd occasion they snort and stamp the ground, the crowd goes wild, but it always comes to nothing.  Out of the ten WWF style match ups (El Nino Vengencia vs Negra Phantasma), we see two damp squib moments when the bulls throw the handbags, and then get really bored and wander off.  At half time a man walks on and lifts his kid up in the air with one hand.  Then he does it with his other kid.  It was a riveting day out.  I suggest they put all the bulls in the ring at once, with all the handlers, and that kid lifter, in one winner-takes-all death match.  Thrown in a couple of tigers, James Blunt and bunch of midgets, and you'd attract more tourists than Machu Picchu.

Hannah and myself decide to brave the local cinema to finally view The Avengers.  It's quite possibly the best film I've seen since Fast Five, and well up there with Schindler's List and Citizen Kane.  Seriously though it is a blast and I recommend you see it.  I had several eyegasms during the viewing.  Then it all goes a bit pear shaped.

I've returned to the hostel to prepare for my two day canyon trek tomorrow, only to discover that my camera is missing.  My good one.  It is nowhere to be found, and I'm freaking out that I've done something stupid like put it in the fridge.  It wasn't in the fridge.  Or the microwave.  It was mostly likely to be found in the bag of some thieving little bastard who spotted it under my covers on my top bunk.  Yes I know I should have used a locker, but we're shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted.  I'm pretty much in bits as the evening wears on, coupled with a howlingly painful throat infection and dented ego.  I cancel the trek, discover I have to pay a fee and retire to bed worn out, upset, dejected and feeling like a total plank. I'm going for the record of most things stolen in one year, this being my second camera.  Paddy might have claim to that in Cuba though, all in one sitting, after the 'incident'; but at the moment I have to come to terms with being unable to take photographs.  This until I spend a small fortune on a sub-standard camera I could buy two of from Amazon.  All I can hope for now is a load of pictures of Condors that'll make them look like crows.  I'm lucky the only image on the memory card was of two bulls looking at each other.
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