i wanna know how an old skinny guy with hairy nipples, a mouthfull of black and rotten chicklets, who smells like sweaty death, can pick up and repeatedly have sex with young hot women. I want to know this.

yesterday, day three at the bar, was a good day. i started the day by going to the market and searching for fresh produce to see what i will cook that day. i felt like mario fucking batali, except i cant cook that well and i wont wear crocs. thing is, my "kitchen" is a two burner camping stove, one pot and one pan. So everyting i make has to be simple, or one pot meals. I make pasta in the pot, and the sauce in the pan. if i want to make garlic toast, i have to fry it. i cant broil, bake, roast, none of that. mario batali isnt limited to a two burner camping stove, one pot and one pan, and not that many ingrediets, and made to cook for a bar full of people. i might wear orange crocs if i had an actual stove and oven. even a fucking grill. but i...

day two, or more accurately, my second "first day" wasnt too bad really.

walking to work i saw a young boy, happily peeing all over the street, against a house, and finally settling on drenching the wheel of a really nice car. at first it looked like he was dancing, but no, he was whizzing all over. when he was done he joyfully skipped away for further street adventures. he was about 11. later in the day, i saw another guy peeing against a wall. there is a lot of peeing in public here in touristy antigua.

i got some supplies and went into the bar to drop them off, TOPS was smoking hash with some friends. it occured to me he vaguely resembles kieth richards. dirty dishes and glasses were all over, i tried to wash them, there was suddenly a flood. the drain in the floor backed up. i dug around and scooped out a bunch of food. Guatemala is a country where you cannot flush toilet paper down the drain cause it will clog it up. (same with...

i was totally going to go to honduras and nicaragua. i was totally done with guatemala. i went back to the "chillout bar", with the guy TOPS, who has clearly done more than his fair share of drugs, for a last drink. i was drinking, he said he needed a chef, i said i can cook, he offered me a job.

i thought about it, went and rented a room for a month, went back to the bar and said i would work there. the "kithcen" is pretty disgusting, small, shitty. its not a kitchen really. he has all these crazy ideas, most are not feasible. he said i would start the day after, and we celebrated over a drink. after the drink, i decided i would at least wash up all the nasty dirty dishes in the kitchen, kind of just get used to shit, where i am going to put things and organize things. He said i have full run of the kitchen, i can organize it, build it any way i need to.

suddenly, two backpackers come in, ask where there is a good place to eat....

today started out pretty nice. sunny, beautiful, a volcano erupting in the distance, which was cool. how often do you get to see mountain blow up? i did my laundry with my washboard, the guatemalan ladies were amused. they dont use a washboard in guatemala. i asked if i could use thier sink tucked away in the corner, the old lady said yes. while i was washing my clothes, all the women suddenly had to look for something in the corner i was washing. one by one a guatemalan girl would come, look at the shelves in front of me for a few seconds, then go away. no one found whatever they were looking for though, so i guess that is why each one had to come and search. it was rather funny.

I went to the bar to see if they would hire me. Nope. One down.

Then I called up the bartender who gave me her number, but her phone was off or something, I got the "leave a message" message. I tried calling yesterday, a few times, same thing. I assume she...

antigua. shit. still in antigua.*

the days are all flowing together, time has lost meaning, i'm just waiting for word on the future, then i leave. tonight i might get a chance to meet that bartender, if she is feeling better. i called her last night just to see how she was doing, she was still sick and pukey and hadnt been to the doctor cause she couldnt leave the bathroom.
so last night i stumbled upon the greatest bar in the world, tucked away down a quiet street, in the back of some hostel that didnt look like anyone stays at. the owner, TOPS to his freinds, is half guatemalan, half british (duel citizen), totally cool. he is an artist, an anarchist, a thinker, a dreamer, a really chilled out cool guy. the bar is very small, very hip, quiet, not that many people, art drawn all over the walls. there was me and three others, i think from italy, that's it.
TOPS is super freindly, old and weathered but with fire in his eyes, thin, almost Iggy Pop-esque....