dawn Wednesday

5:30am  What was that last night?    Man!
On the phone Sondra had invited me to meet them out for a drink after their dinner party, around 10:30. That's shockingly late for me down here (tired by 8pm every night) but I pushed myself to stay up -- be good to be social and maybe Denise would be there (after leaving 2 voice-mails.)  First, I went to Jammin' where there was supposed to be "Ladies' Game Night", play backgammon, be forced to practice Spanish...  sorry, not this Tuesday. Okay. Across the street is Jungle Internet where they project movies from the bar on the second floor onto a screen across the street (dirt road). It's like a drive-in with picnic tables.   Words cannot describe how Bad a movie has to be before even I can't stand it. Wow. Bad. (No, truly. I couldn't force myself to stay there and kill time - free - outside and I have no other place to go: BAD.)
Here is the other minor problem (other than fighting the urge to doze off in the street): the bar she had told me was very close. Muy cerrado. Sooo. What do you do? You figure you got the name wrong and try a place with a similar name.  This would be a logical next step except, when there was a guy at the door gate to buzz me in - this ought to have been a clue.  Most places don't have walls.
Oh, if only I had writing skills enough to convey the ambiance of a dark, skanky bar that might only exist in the mind of Quentin Tarantino - only without all the action verbs he loves. Pot smoking surfers (one hopes they at least surf) are not famous for being  Men of Action. More men of drowsy sentences.
Five or eight guys sitting around long tables, dead quiet except for the TV. And it wasn't sports. Telenovella. (This is Mexico's version of daytime drama with a lot more cheese.)
It's dim to the point of candle-lit (without the candles).
I have a moment, standing by the iron security gate, to decide: am I in or out?  I ask myself if it's possible these could be friends of Sondra's, if they might be nice enough guys, if there's a chance she'll show up soon.  There's a chance.
I sit down on one of the long benches and the guys start introducing themselves. They're nice enough. Offer to share. Thank you, no. They speak plenty of english. One guy makes jewelry by hand and offers to show me some of his work. (Seriously?) Tight macrame woven into necklaces with semi-precious stones, amber and pearls embedded ... this is amazing. What am I doing here?
This is not the right bar! Those people from the dinner party are not coming here! I'm just sitting alone in a dark room with strangers and drugs.   ("Hullo? This is reality, you needed a Wake-up call?")
To their credit: the guys really were friendly and harmless; and to my credit: I do get points for just showing up.  It was probably the truest view of Puerto Viejo yet.