Before you can see the grossest tourist attraction ever (and the pictures of us immersed in it), I want to share some parting shots of San Gil.
This blog wouldn’t be complete without a pic of Multiplied. Keegan wanted a pet at every stop along the way and since we’d be in a hotel room for a week here that was located right next door to a pet shop of sorts, we gave in and Multiplied joined us for our time in San Gil and here are some pics of him (her?)
This is a pic of Multiplied in the cage. And here is one of him clinging to the curtain rod while evading capture.
He was a friendly little parakeet that, for a day or two, would sit on Keegan’s finger and nibble on his ear. After he got out a few times he became more skittish and developed the demon eye you see in the photograph. (just kidding. Red eye repair doesn’t seem to work on parakeets.) And, as to the name, I’ll have to have Keegan explain that to me again and I’ll get back to you. We gave Multiplied, cage and all, to the receptionist at the hotel for her young son. She was very happy and assured us that the bird would have a good home (and a new name, I bet.)
This was a fun picture of a local restaurant that was never open when we went by, so we can’t recommend it apart from the sign.
Too bad the original Gringo Mike didn’t show up for a triptych, but my gringo men did their part to boost the local economy and the morale of the passersby.
The obligatory shot of two old guys feeding the pigeons in the Centro. The difference here is that every few minutes the fellow on the left would slowly lean down until he could snatch a pigeon up and pet it for a few minutes before letting it go. Do you think the bandage hides a pigeon induced injury? Doesn’t that pigeon in front look like a seagull/pigeon cross breed?
This pigeon flew to a high window and watched until it was safe to fly back down. I’m thinking he’d been snatched up and petted one time too many.
Keegan with a cotton candy beard.
I miss cotton candy in tumblers spun onto cardboard tubes. This was sold in bags, but still tastes just the same and disappears as quickly. (I am resisting saying, “Back in My Day, you didn’t buy cotton candy in bags from street vendors at every hoity toity tourist attraction, you waited in line at the Circus or the Boardwalk and you dropped it on the ground and it got covered in sawdust and people stepped on it and you ate it anyway because that was all you were getting and crying wouldn’t do you any good and you liked it.”)(and when I say I am resisting saying that, I mean that I am going to go ahead and write it. I hope you read it in a crochety old man voice because that’s the way I wrote it.)
This old guy would walk up and down the streets with the pile of rebar under his arm. Yes, of course, we gave him some money. We thought he looked like the picture below that was hung in our favorite breakfast restaurant.
Life Lesson: We prefer the small towns to the big cities. What they lack in culture they make up in personality.