Travelogue 23, Punta del Diablo, Uruguay: A Keyless Existence

Hello all. Hope this finds you well. This is going to be an experimental edition of the t-logues. I'm going to attempted the never attempted--write straight through without rereading, editing, obsessing. This is right in line with my new style of living. I haven't bushed my hair in 2 month!!, no lie, and it looks fabulous.  (sorry Elaine!!! no make up either) I get out of the shower, give it a finger rake and toss it to the wind along with what others might think about it. I'll go back to being hip, because I like looking a tad taylored, but for the moment, it's all about letting go of conditioned thought and comma splices (sorry Mrs. Hartenstein-Raker)
Actually, it's pointless to brush one's hair here. It's so damn windy it will take the hide right off your hair, a Pop saying you've heard before. Speaking of Pop, last time I called it went like this:
--Hey Pop. Whatcha' doing?
--Awww, watching a tiger get his nuts cut off.
--What?Watching a tiger get his nuts cut off?
(sounds like Little Lucia doesn't it)
-Yeh, it's one of those t.v. animal programs, they are castrating a tiger.
See how I turned out to be  a  short, white woman version of Richard Prior?
--
Since I last wrote, I continue to sleep in my tent by choice, but have had a major upgrade in facilities and hang-out space. I've gone from this

employee kitchen at previous hostel

to this:

new kitchen/eating area

and this:

bathroom at previous hostel

to this:

new john

shower art

the mirror I would look in if I gave a rat's ass about my hair

This, unexpected hospitality upgrades, continues to happen for at least one reason I am aware of: so I can learn to accept kindness graciously, to not have to feel guilty over it, or question what I've done to deserve it or feel I have to pay it back. Just being grateful is enough.
A furry cat worm (the direct translation) is the cause of my break from the tourism table I set up and mentioned in the pre-travelogue.

this is a cousin, the actual culprit is much uglier

This morning the critter, no call an s.o.b an s.o.b , stung me when I stuck a beach chair it was resting on under my armpit. It provides an opportunity to give you insight in to my life here. I return with the bastard in a plastic cup in case I stop breathing, become unconscious and need an antivenom. The cleaning lady, quite concerned, identifies it by the above name and immediately cuts a tomato in half and tells me to hold it on the area. Slap a slab of 'mater on it and you'll be good as new. She's driven in from the outskirts of town every morning as an aside. Then comes the night watchmen with a bag of ice. Two Advil and three hours later I cannot bare the pain which now originates just to the right of my right breast, curses up through the pit, over the shoulder and right down to the tip of my fuck-off finger. At the phramcay there is a Chilean couple behind me who prescribes pineapple juice (ingested, not as a soak). The phramisits as the woman if she is a dr. She answers no, but a mother of 3 and grandmother of 8, to which i say,her titles far outweigh the authority of a dr. They insist on driving me to the store for the remedy. There I run into a Canadian couple I helped find lodging at the bus stop yesterday. They invite me over for dinner. At the store chec out I tell the owner what the juice is for. He goes to the back, gets cream and lathers up the spot swearing I'll be good as new. On the hike back up to the hostel, one of the other hostel owners sees me and gives me a lift. There is just that kind of kindness running rampant through this little village, if you are open to receiving it
There are the bad guys too, which brings me to the scandal yesterday of which I am the center of attention. The police were called, reports written, restraining orders issued (not to restrain me, but protect me). It seems their is one hostel of hostile young assholes who think I am stealing their business, though if the dumbasses would check my records they would see I have sent them as much, if not more,  business as others. That's coming to a screeching hault. Apparently one of the van drivers has been informing them that I am favoring the hostel where I am staying, which is totally untrue, again check my records. So, here comes one of the misinformed assholes to verbally attack me. It was observed by one of the people with pull in the town and next thing I know the police is there...and the owners of the hostel where I stay. In the end, they are as immature as 8th graders and I'm going to treat them as such...not engage in the conflict. Nonresistance. I'm making twice as much off of helping the cabana owners as the hostels, so I'm going to dedicate myself to that and promoting my language classes. I'll still hand out maps and orient visitors at MY table,

notice the spies in the background

which is the part I so enjoy, but just not recommend any hostels or receive commissions. Most people say I'm letting the assholes win and I should fight it and hold my ground. Gigi is going to follow in Ghandi's footsteps. I don't want to "win" anything. I want to stay, undisturbed, in my place of joy, without it depending on what anyone else does or doesn't do.   See what reading books instead of the newspaper will do for you? Too, the other day I realized I'm living a keyless existance. I don't have a house key, car key, office key.....the freedom that comes with that is what has allowed me to take all these risks. A revelation came to me during the morning meditation on the rocks:  as a human being all I really NEED is food, water, shelter and love. There is no way in hell any of my friends here (or there=you) will let me go without any of those.  I also thought, when you are already on your knees, which is where the last few episodes of depression put me, there's no chance of falling. That sounds like a bookmark poem that may have already been said, but I swear I hadn't heard it, so I'm taking credit for it. See what  living in a tent and out of a backpack can do for you?
Last we left off, if I recall correctly, Little Lucia was still around. She's been long gone, for months, which tells me an update is long overdo. Her mother got in a fight with her boss, who is her half-sister, or something like that, over not keeping the bathrooms stocked, or something like that, and overnight L. Lucia wasn't around to interrogate me. I miss the little bugger. That kind of fighting was indicative of the ambiance of the hostel and as of date, over 1/2 the staff have left--the best people of course. the owner is left with the ones who could give a rat's all about doing a job well. They want a place to shower and park their surf-boards. I tried to warn the owner what was coming and all the staff really wanted was to feel appreciated. We took a job working there for a meal a day, a bed and $200 a month. That's right, do the math, $7 a day. Before I took my financially well-being in my own hands, I was living a totally new experience--balking over a pack of gum at the check-out...did I really need it? what would I have to give up if I bought it? Made me realize how off I (and perhaps you) have been when the words, "I don't have any money" come out of my mouth.
So, before setting up my little tourist info table, I gave it a go with eco-tourism with a bus pick up (I meet the coolest people on the bus), Pablo. I came up with the idea of a "Mate sunrise" hike. Mate is THE mark of Argentina and Uruguay. the beverage itself is much like green tea, but with 10x the caffience. The apparatus through which it is consumed is quite bong like, and it's passed around the circle in joint-hit fashion. These people are as addicted to it as American's are Starbucks. They walk around all the time hugging a thermos to their chest as if it were the first born.

"mate bong"

Plablo 'splainin' mate

taking a hit

Anyway, the hikes with Pablo didn't turn out..one reason being his out of control fear of snakes, which he shares profusely before the group takes one step into nature. It is true that Punta del Diablo hosts one of the most venemous and dangers snakes of South America, la crucera, and I've crossed paths with several, both dead and alive on my long runs. They are like most snakes, though, they just want to be left alone and unless you step on one or mess with it, they high-scale it the other direction. Despite this, Pablo has invented a snake repelling walking stick that absolutely cracks me up. He swears snakes don't like the smell of Crayola magic markers, so he sticks one in the tip of this alumunum telescoping pole he's come up with. He's a trip.
So, I now know I have an editing disorder. I couldn't do it...I corrected, revised.... , but only 10 times instead of 40. That's progress. Revisors's anonymous?
So....what next...it starts getting cold here in May, so I'll head back to the states then, visit family and look for a tour guiding job where ever it's warm. Next winter, I'll be back here, where I'm thinking about starting a little language school...got tons of support for it already. Just a thought.
I'll leave you with a few photos of the Natural beauty I enjoy every single day...morning, evening and night.
Much love to each of you,