Magic Carpet Ride

I was planning to leave early this morning, but only get up at 1000, on account of having drunk loads of beer. More often that not, I still enjoy very few morning after consequences from heavy drinking, though I'm not exactly walking on sunshine either.

A couple of nice Scousers have turned up, and I find them watching the Premier League finale - City vs. QPR. I accept that I'm not leaving any time soon and settle down. It's a good thing too. Great game.

I've quartered a taxi fare to the bus terminal with some Americans, out here with the Peace Corps. Anticipating that I'm not going to get a good chance to investigate my clingfilm packet before the border, I gift it to the Corps, who are more than pleased to investigate for me. I gather it's not a particularly intensive volunteer program - mostly 'hanging out', apparently.

After I've got my ticket, I have an hour and a half wait, so I teach a small boy to play the ukulele. I think his name is Axel, and he is seven years old. Young Axl is very keen and learns strumming, fretting and posing quickly. He, in turn, teaches a six year old boy, then proudly performs a show for his mother.

I come off the bus in Concepcion in the dark, with no idea where I'm going to stay, and not fancying walking around in the dark. I ask at a burger stand in front of some kind of dance hall. A man comes out and tells me he has a room for me, for an agreeable fifty thousand pesos - seven pounds sterling. He picks up my bags, and escorts me through the active dance hall, which is actually a badly delapidated garage with a two guys, on keyboard and vocals, performing for a few tables of locals. I know it's not going to be pretty as he walks me between a row of motorbikes and down a dirty hall way. This one is giving the Macedonians a run for their money. It's a box room with a seperated bathroom in the corner. There's a thick smell of mold, which probably on account of the very visible mold on all the walls. One wall has brown stains all across it's length and width, where water has dripped from above. The ceiling and walls have several thick and wide webs, still home to two spiders, blowing about as the ceiling fan fires up. There's a couple of old looking beds, adjacent to each other along two of the walls. The bathroom light doesn't work, but given the way the harsh halogen in the main room shows the horror of it all, I suspect this is probably for the best. Despite all that, I enjoy the best shower I've had in Paraguay.  Most places use pathetic electric showers, with only a small heating element in the shower head itself.

It's a good thing I didn't bring that clingfilm packet. I doubt I'd enjoy to be up all night, vividly flying around this filthy shithole.