The (appropriately-proportioned) Ballad of Chimichurri

September 19th, 2018

O mottled beak and pink, webbed feet
that wobble with my boots,
No earthly dangers could defeat
the fierceness of his poops.

chimi1

And though his down be tinged with gold
don't brand him yellow-belly.
This duckling's jumped an inch, all told
to get into the jelly.

chimi5

A mountain-duck by birth, he deigned
to live amongst the valley
and eat entireties of worms, and
all crumbs he can rally.

chimi2

And I ken it's through these very feats
that Thursday's 56g
when added to his tonne of treats
is Monday's 71.3

chimi4

His awesome mass is multiplied
by awesome wealth; it's testified
he vanquished all the pond's paltroons
and sleeps now 'top his won dubloons.

chimi3

Yea, the price of valor's a lofty nap,
quack quack quack quack quack quack quack.

***

Also, aside from inspiring Vogon poetry, baby ducks also make excellent pets for people attempting to adjust their daily schedules earlier.

From Scratch

September 9th, 2018

Have you ever watched something get built from scratch? Precursors included; packaged convenience left entirely by the wayside?

Have you ever thrown out an idea because the very tower of necessaries that must be made aforehand seems to grow at a rate greater than your ability to make them? Have you ever sacrificed the correct assemblage of a thing in favor of a pre-existing solution? The "what can you do?" excuse is there, always waiting to slick its tongue in the door when the finite nature of one's time on earth is weighed against the laundry list of one's self-appointed tasks.

However tempting it may be to decry the toil of The Right Thing, it is still right. However much of a bargain The Cheap Thing1 may present, it is still a bad bargain if it leaves The Right Thing behind.

Building from scratch is an awesome difficulty. It is also one of the few things worth doing in a world where most have spent their lives contributing to cheap, wrong, packaged convenience rather than the paving of correct steps towards actual goals2.

Let us witness, then, the triumphs of one Mircea Mircescu:

popflood
My own poor Grenadine was nearly deafened by the trumpets of her fellow's several successive victories. Were she not obliged to offer a vivat and quaff a spot of Alchemist's Cheap Gin each time, she might've even been lucid enough to have achieved something, herself!

toppops
The ranking of pots won over the past thirty days. I hear Daniel Barron is looking to break into the carabiner market.

Perhaps it could be said that it's easier for a virtual man to build himself such glories from scratch than for a man of meat. Mircescu, ostensibly, felt no pangs of the stomach or loins3, had no consideration for sleep or toothache, and was never interrupted by blitzes of Sprint vs. MCI callcenter rate offers.

Nevertheless, he was still obliged to pull grass from the earth until there was enough with which to make rope. To use rope to haul in flotsam from the shore until it could be worked with other such trifles, just as hardly won, to make tools. Solely to make the further purchase of trifling items more practicable. Eulora's seemingly oppressive chain of requisites for anything resembling progress is as a poem for reality. Removed from the hard fact of actually bleeding fingers as felt in the world beyond the borders of the screen, its world permits a more visible, paradoxically more tangible, affair between right and reward.

Not that it's any clearer what The Right Thing is. But Mircescu seems to have a decent hunch. And he ought to be celebrated.

Huzzah!

* * *

  1. The Wrong Thing may be just as toilsome, and so employed as a result of confusion, or of outright malice. The Cheap Thing, and look that it's not even properly codified, the insidious bastard, isn't necessarily wrong, it's just necessarily less toilsome. The fact that what is Cheap is often also Wrong is the only true evil I know, and the principal problem of anyone attempting to move rationally through their existence. []
  2. I do not pretend to have, nor do I imagine I ever will, fully digest or even be entirely aware of the work of human history's exceptions. The sentiment is rather born of the experience of "modern living", inasmuch as that means the very state of having to trudge through ever-enthickening swamps of "solutions" that are nothing like solutions at all. []
  3. Though I hear something along these lines is being brewed for implementation. []

hanbot's ZNC bouncer notes

August 31st, 2018

My current ISP, cavalcade of dipshits that they are, has taken to peppering my daily routine with disconnects, making an IRC bouncer necessary in the stew of damage control on my stove1.

ZNC's installation and initial configuration processes are painless enough. Make yourself a dir, cd into it, and grab source:


curl -s https://znc.in/releases/znc-1.7.1.tar.gz -o znc-1.7.1.tar.gz

Unpack, cmake, and install:


tar -xzvf znc-1.7.1.tar.gz
cd znc-1.7.1
cmake -DCMAKE_INSTALL_PREFIX="$HOME/where/you/want/it" -DOPENSSL_ROOT_DIR=/usr/bin2
make
make install

Then create a config file by specifying the full path of your installation in the prefix above followed by --makeconf . ZNC's docs suggest znc --makeconf alone will do this; ten wasted minutes of my life suggest otherwise.

You'll have to pick a port for ZNC to listen on among the prompts that follow. Otherwise, default options've proven fine for me. Launch ZNC when prompted at the end of the configuration dialogue.

Now all that's squared away, official docs and search result flotsam step in with the true timewasting bullshit of dropping anything resembling actionable steps, sense, or the English fucking language. All IRC users are also goats of the same age and gender, right? No need to declare antecedents for "the" password, just dandy to specify "server" password in some forms but not others, certainly no problem to be explicit to the degree of telling folks to cd to a fucking directory but neglecting to mention which network components need what information, and where.

So then, first tell ZNC where you want it to connect via the same's webadmin. Point your browser to http://your.server's.ip:portyouspecified/ . Log in, mosey to "Your settings" on the right-hand menu, and add a network with irc.freenode.net, port 6697. Check the SSL box. Put something you like in the "network name" field up top. Hit "save and return" at the very bottom of the page.

Now, tell your IRC client how to connect to ZNC. I used xchat, where this stuff is accessed under xchat/network list. Click "Add", highlight the stupid default server name that pops up, and enter your.ZNC.server's.ip:portyouspecified . Yes, the separator shows in established server details as a forward slash. Yes, the syntax is actually a forward slash. No, entering the same forward slash will not fucking work, it'll overwrite what you entered with the original default bullshit. Give it a colon; it'll convert it into a forward slash on return. This shit's so enraging they ought to market it as a depilation treatment.

Anyway, in the User name field, enter your ZNC admin name, forward slash (no kidding, it works on its own now), network name from the ZNC webadmin network settings (that very same something you like). The server password is the same as your ZNC webadmin password. Feed it your Nickserv password if it makes you happy. Close the dialogue and connect.

***

  1. Shitty mixed metaphors brought to you by hours of enraged wrangling; may this guide spare you similar emissions. []
  2. This is the Pizarro shared box's openssl path at the time of this writing, change as needed. []

And they said you can't take it with you.

July 15th, 2018

"Hey, get my other pair of underwear out of the trunk?"
"Anything else?"
"And the water."
"You want some fruit?"
"Yeah. Bring the banana for the crabs."
"And an apple? Orange? Some juice?"
"Bring the whole lot. Better yet, bring the whole car."

There's a sweet spot between the convenience of mobile provisions and the hassle of managing all the little tasks that go into stocking, sorting, packing, and retrieving, where that which one wants, one gets, with minimal administration. Banal as it may seem, there's little better than supreme and simple outfitting in the remote wild, which is where the preceeding exchange took place --a place with orders of magnitude more hermit crabs than people, by count, by mass, by whatever metric you'd like.

Apparently hermit crabs like bananas, among other things it's hard to imagine stumbling upon just-so on a shore human scrapsmaking rarely blesses. A particularly ripe one went in, therefore, with the other trunkstuffs unknown to beachkind, like a towel large enough to accommodate any particular angle of lazing about, and a thermos full of clove-infused cafe au lait.

I navigated surf-smoothed1 feet through the short trail of hot sand towards the car, skipping over judgment-browed iguanas and fraying coconut husks. And stopped cold. A heron! Head stretched tall in wary regard, he spent but a second to raise his wings and fly from just in front of the hood to a grassy clearing some feet away.

heron
Leaving him be to continue his automobile inspection2, I returned to The Great Towel Island with All the Trunk Things and the Banana Relief for Hermitty Victims of Crabreality began in earnest. Three grand chunks were flung, and several perambulating shells were observed approaching, and eventually coming to rest upon, the soft yellow anomaly.

Then came the crow, swift, merciless, and robbed these gentle curmudgeons of one chunk (the reader may take comfort in the report that no crabs were seen still attached)! A few minutes passed -- a heated discussion on the provenance of the winch took place -- seawater previously imbibed found routes from out of various holes in various heads. The crow returned. A female, stricken with that particular cruel joke of sexual dimorphism favoring males with brilliant oil-slick blues while the girls go brownly by. She landed several feet from her desired prize, unsure if the banana bit was a bit too close to wiggling toes. She meekly approached, foot-gawk-foot, --and I laughed wholeheartedly at the cautious maneuver, which sent the bird hopping back a ways. She eyed me, attempted one step bananawise, and sent me pealing again. Three times more with this routine and she had had it, sitting sadly on a branch back at the treeline. Apparently it's not only adolescent boys who cannot abide the sound of women laughing. All the better for the crabs, who care not for such trifles --for they are neither sea, nor salt, nor slightly rotten fruit.

Back in the valley, it happened one afternoon that we'd been walking mile after bus-flanked mile over unsteady sidewalks, klaxon-blasted and asphalt-fatigued into desperation for a break. What luck that a certain "anime cafe" was there, tucked into the parking lot of an office supply store. Rainbow-ropelights and well-trod astroturf stairs beckoned. Into dayglo knick-knack paradise we oozed. Did you know that Costa Rica has some of the best, ripest, loveliest tropical fruit in the world? Costa Ricans do not know. For which reason you're well-advised, when ordering anything fruit-based here, to request the item "sin azucar". I forgot to ask Gothic Alice in Wonderland to omit the stuff from my guanabana batido, no doubt distracted by the Hello Kitty popcorn machine and 4' Domo-kun plushie staring me down in the hallway.

guanabana-1

It was like trying to drink one of those scented markers from second grade. And it came with whatever this guy is --though I must admit I can't locate him again, and that possibly he was a mere hallucination caused by the two gulps of sugar-with-some-guanabana-in-it I took before pushing Diabetes Tumbler (that's a "medium", for the record) aside.

guanabana-2

Getting what you want is a lot easier in the middle of nowhere.

  1. The sand here is volcanic, varyingly fine, and this particular time actually managed to bleed my ankles a little in the rather turbulent waves. That aside, best pedicure one could ask for. []
  2. I received no official papers indicating pass or fail by review of Heronity. []

MP-WP: Genesis Regrind

June 11th, 2018

Cause for this regrind consists of the lack of a proper manifest file as per the official Republican spec, along with the incorrect directory structure, both of which have been addressed in this new genesis vpatch.

The recently-released patch for comments has been included, as has a minor cosmetic/derpatic change to image files, the names of which no longer contain spurious remnants of their pre-svgization filetypes.

Files:
* mp-wp_genesis.vpatch
* mp-wp_genesis.vpatch.hanbot.sig

Note: this genesis was built and press-tested with phf's vtools, via its keccak head.

MP-WP: Fix for Comments vpatch

May 29th, 2018

Previously, fresh installs of MP-WP required a fair amount of futzing1 before comments would work.

This vpatch modifies /blog/wp-comments-post.php and the comments.php files in both themes' subdirectories such that commenting should work without any configuration requirements upon instalation, keeping MP's antispam functionality intact, naturally.

Files:
mp-wp_comments-fix.vpatch
mp-wp_comments-fix.vpatch.hanbot.sig

This patch is just shy of three weeks late, the fact of which is about as embarrassing as why: I still retain certain cockroaches. Three weeks' worth of "dude I still haven't made that patch" sessions is how long it took me to realize the only way this was getting done, by me anyway, was with a fucking pen and a sheet of paper, and writing out a "stupid" "unnecessary" graph of the problems and the attempted solutions, with their results. 'Cause I oughta be able to just do it, right? Harr.

Anyway, next up is MP's request for a mass file uploader.

  1. Copy-pasting the $suffix string between one of the two included themes' comments handler and the top-level post file in the case of the "Default" theme, and modifying both said string and comment field variables when using "Classic". []

The State of the Cards

May 23rd, 2018

As a companion item to http://btcbase.org/log/2018-05-22#1816592, here's the current state of supposed Bitcoin-linked Debit cards.

tl;wr At some point there may have been a market amongst these things, if we're to take the mass of reports, reviews, and similar pretense available online for anything other than ad-copy and scam fodder. In any case, in January of this year the company (Wavecrest) responsible for processing, verifying, or otherwise fucking with the Bitcoin-to-Debit conveyor cut all ties with card providers and their clients, resulting in a sinkhole of empty promises, feeble forward-looking statements, and absolutely zero actual utility.

The Would-Be Contenders

BitPay (bitpay.com)

Leaving aside everything else that's wrong with this outfit (see here: http://btcbase.org/log/2018-03-11#1787563 and here: http://trilema.com/2015/time-to-rehash-that-old-strategic-superiority-discussion/ and here: http://trilema.com/2014/bitcoin-in-argentina-exactly-nothing-to-do-with-the-derps/ and here: http://qntra.net/2015/09/bitpay-claims-hack-amounting-to-5000-bitcoins/ ), BitPay's debit cards (should they actually exist) are only available with in the United States, and applicants are required to hand over their Social Security Numbers --something no non-governmental agency is legally permitted to even ask (and something you're well advised to resist, seeing how the principal source of information used in identity theft comes from the inept maintenance of computer infrastructure by these exact culprits).

Cryptopay (cryptopay.me)

After a 15m registration process and a stroll through the extensive KYC verification required to get its cards to spit out more than a pittance, Cryptopay rewards applicants with a note: "Unfortunately you can't order a new Cryptopay card now due to the sudden programme closure by our card issuing bank. We're working on the solution, stay tuned."

Wagecan (wagecan.com)

This one has no notes about advertised products being mysteriously unavailable lurking in your lunchbox, but this at the cost of $200 upfront for the card and the usual KYC requirements, which can only be completed after the fee's been paid. How much the bribe to get the verification "approved" is isn't mentioned on the site. Plainly obvious scam, in other words.

Spectrocoin (spectrocoin.com)

If I see one more ad with that salt-n-pepper-haired fuck winking at me I'm going to lose my shit, you know? Especially since the card is advertised all over the web, and claims about it are plastered all over the site, but you'll have to talk to support to read that "Unfortunately our cards are not available, though we expect to have them this quarter."

Wirex (wirexapp.com)

Waits for users to sign up before mentioning that cards "will be available in a little while." With an account, you can sign up for a wait list --which as of today puts one at the 55k mark.

UQUID (uquid.com)

After an especially toilsome registration process which includes making no less than three separate passwords and takes a good half hour, UQUID simply spits "Sorry, service requested is not available. Please try again later." Whether "later" is more or less than "a little while" isn't indicated.

Xapo (xapo.com)

Despite still showing up on various card review lists etc, Xapo (a member of the F.DERP shame listing has silently erased all traces of offering any sort of card from its website.

Shift (Coinbase) (shiftpayments.com)

Advertised as a card that "plugs into" a Coinbase account, Shift is only available in the United States, and goes so far as to block IPs outside the zone from engaging in this "plugging". In any case, there's a reason Coinbase has been identified as a scam as far back as February 2013.

Bitwala (bitwala.com)

Nearly every sentence on Bitwala's site is appended with an asterisk. Why? It's not actually "launched" yet, but you can "pre-register" --which as of today puts one at the 25k mark.

Coinsbank (coinsbank.com)

"Cards temporarily unavailable."

Bitnation (tse.bitnation.co)

This was referenced as a card issuer on some list of reviews, but seems to be nothing more than a few images of geographical regions, idiot mugs, and links to social media accounts. I still don't know what it is even supposed to be.

Bitplastic (bitplastic.com)

Expired domain. And I thought there's value in such "virtual real estate"!

Raxcard (raxcard.com)

No verification mentioned, but between the $50 charge for signup and multiple reports of the payment being made only for the operators to respond with a "Sorry, we sent you the wrong address to pay to, please send us another $50", there's little doubt this is a simple scam.

Coinsbank (coinsbank.com)

First there's an announcement that "withdrawals to VISA cards are temporarily unavailable." Then "no debit cards available."

CoinJar (coinjar.com)

Waits for users to sign up to notify them that the card, if it exists, only works in Australia. Needless to say, this is exactly not how cards work.

ANXPRO (anxpro.com)

Visit the site as a guest, be regaled with heaps of boilerplate on their fabulous card etc. Sign up, and all mention of any card magically disappears, but "new card solutions are coming".

Advanced Cash (advcash.com)

"The card platform is not available." As usual, you have to sign up to even see this.

Mobi (mobi.me)

No card mentioned on site, despite being referred to variously online as a debit card issuer.

Worldcore (worldcore.eu)

Notes that its card is not available for use in all regions, but requires extensive KYC verification process before they'll even tell you whether your region qualifies. Pro tip: no, it does not.

Revolut (revolut.com)

"Currently only available in Europe." Also requires some application to use, which can't be downloaded on non-Euro IPs, not that there's any hope it'd work at all.

BCCpay (bccpay.co)

"We're performing maintenance at the moment. Sorry."

Panama Makes Me Ill

April 27th, 2018

And not just because of that stupid palindrome1. It literally made me ill after ~15 hours spent in its clutches, I'm a 5'9" congestion, ghow dho jdhoo gdoo?

Those fifteen hours saw about 20km of walking, which would've been no big deal were it not for the 20kg of gear and Panama's delightful wet-oven that spends all day doing free interpretations of the weather. Thirty degrees at ninety five percent humidity seems a lot more apt for making bagels than a livable climate, but one can only spend so much time in cafes.

Speaking of which, here's Casa Sucre, in the gussied-up part of Panama City, Casco Viejo.

panamac-1

Decent carrot juice and non-Costa-Rican-coffee2, if you're in the neighborhood and feel like imbibing at your imaginary grandfather's house. The Mac didn't have Oregon Trail, and that note on the piano kindly asks that you keep your children away from the instrument's crotchety old keys.

Panama City has a fairly massive littering problem, replete with the kind of odor you'd expect from a trash-happy city in a hot place on the water --I'll spare you particular description. Casco Viejo, however, is a proper tourist trap, where refuse is magically handled with care, paint flows o'er the walls afresh nightly, and pavers hold the train of your dress while laying flat before you the paths ahead.

panamac-2

The tourism board apparently foresaw a lot of outdoor entertainment happening around here, though every time I've gone it's been deserted, save for the occasional shaved ice vendor, one of whom ran towards me when she saw me throwing on another layer of sunscreen. You'd be hardpressed to find anyone so grateful for something so small, and indeed, on the whole Panamanians are good-natured. They've been cooked, trashed, and hustled into something like an exhausted, stressed-out cousin of the laid-back Costa Rican, though.

panamac-3

They're also living like bugs in a city with pretenses to "the Dubai of Latin America"; there's not much difference in costs of living between Panama and the US --at least, not anymore--, but the same air-conditioned bastions of North Americanity that beckon tourists to go from TGI Friday's in Cincinnati to TGI Friday's in Panama City ostensibly for the benefit of saying they've traveled have no fantasy in store for the locals. One cabbie I talked to described 14-hour stints in his totally-not-a-Tata to get bills paid after he left his job as network manager of the city's second-largest mall. He figured there had to be someone willing to pay more than $1000/mo for it. "Turns out, there isn't." He described buying gold bullion in 2012 after considering whether it was a better buy than btc. Then he was quiet for a while. He may be showing up in #eulora if the cockroaches don't eat him first.

panamac-4

It's not a concrete jungle so much as a trash heap smoothed at the margins and covered in glass; a place where pretty much nobody walks --even for a few blocks--, and the one-upping edifices of US imports lid all, attempting illustration of a greatness and identity of which only regional managers and their braindead acolytes could be proud.

*** Interlude ***

Didja know Panama has a "Blockchain Embassy"?

panamac-5

"What the fuck does that even mean?!" you ask. Well, it's in a strip mall, and that's all I've got.

panamac-6

I go in, Wingus & Dingus are seated on stools, hunchbacked over whatever on macbooks. I ask if they'd like to trade som'fin'. Dingus can't talk to me over the wobble of his mouth. Wingus says they have a bitcoin atm. But it only sells. Except it doesn't have any bitcoin to sell yet.

"So...the market here is basically non-existant?"

"Basically, yes."

But they have t-shirts.

panamac-7

I'm still not sure what these shits are for, and I'm not convinced anyone involved knows either --unless it's outright a case of "ensure anyone clueless & curious about btc who approaches one of these things gets a clear signal that it's retarded".

***

Anyway, as I was saying, Panama makes me ill. I worked for a stint as a supermarket cashier in college, and the nicest old lady working there was from Panama City, made it sound like the sort of place where parrots3 sit on your shoulders and the plantains are like mana. I should've realized there was a reason she had moved to Ohio.

And if the city somehow fails to encurmudgeon you, the airport will: 30min cap on Wifi, several gates with broken A/C (the "causeways" aka mall parts are permafrigid tho'), and plenty of the kinds of logistics problems you'd rather not think about when handing your body over for flight, from frequently changed gates to directions that include lines like "you have to go down the unlit hallway behind the Chicken Port".

Happy trails!

  1. When your name's a palindrome, people seem a lot more eager to recite others they know to you, and that Panama shit gets stuffed in there 99% of the time. Here's one that reads better backwards than forewards. !uoy kcuF .setydolgort fo edaclavac a, gniretlews a, hcnets A []
  2. By now I'm convinced this is the only distinction that really matters, did the coffee come from CR or not? []
  3. In stark contrast to its northern neighbor, Panama, or at least its capitol, are devoid of wildlife. I saw one gull cooling its feet by the water. Otherwise, they've got roaches. []

MP-WP Genesis

April 13th, 2018

If you'd like to use Mircea Popescu's modified Wordpress (as used on Trilema, here, and many blogs of the Republic), I've made a V genesis to be maintained in perpetuity, with patches shortly to come.

Available files:

* mp-wp_genesis.vpatch
* mp-wp_genesis.vpatch.hanbot.sig

Mosey over to the about page if you need my pubkey.

Many thanks to mod6 for his indispensible Vtron, phf for his vpatcher and tools, spyked for his patches of same, asciilifeform for V in general, diana_coman for her help getting started with gnat, and of course Mr. P for the eponymous codebase and support.

Sede Atlantico

March 6th, 2018

The University of Costa Rica has a handful of satellite campuses scattered here and there around this dimunition of a country, and for some reason figures that its compound in Turrialba has something to do with the ocean several hours' drive to its east. Overlooking the egregious decision to name it "Sede Atlantico" rather than its rightful "Sede Queso"1, I ventured forth on the two-hour journey to audit a class or two and see if there was any wasted talent hanging about.

It's a pleasant drive; the landscape shifts from the gray roughness of San Jose to the technicolor hovels of Hatillos, the city's pseudo-squattage, soon yielding completely to the overgrown jungle-forest-desert pastiche of the rural valleys.

On arriving at the campus, I found it rather remarkably empty for a monday mid-morning. In fact, there were many more cleaning women than students about, so I snapped a few shots of the freshly-painted, freshly-waxed hallways and looked for coffee.

atlantico-1

atlantico-2

There wasn't any coffee to be found, however, the cafeteria being full of peeling wooden planks and chairparts. I asked what bipeds I could find, and was pointed towards a soda across the street. Coffee just isn't as enjoyable at a plastic table occupied by squeeze bottles of ketchup and mustard, you know? So I walked a few kilometers until I found a somewhat more passable joint that had mediocre cafe con leche and fantasia de higos, a sort of parlor-game dish where you excavate poor, helpless figs from ice cream that's nowhere near up to par.

With the walk back I'd killed a little time, and went back to campus.

Which, as you've probably guessed...

atlantico-3

Well, maybe people don't hangabout here, all business, I guess? Let's go to class.

atlantico-4

Here's Room 4, which both online and right outside its door professes to be holding a class from 1 to about 4pm. At ten minutes to 1, it was empty. At 1 exactly, idem. Fifteen minutes later? I don't think PC0305-901 is doing so well.

atlantico-5

I tried out a few more rooms that were supposed to be holding classes. They were similarly well-attended.

atlantico-6

I went to the administration and asked them why their online schedule, as well as those posted outside the classrooms, were incorrect. The attendant mula, visibly perturbed to be wrested from digging through her purse for god knows what and called to some sort of duty, disappeared for a few minutes and re-emerged with the certainty that the schedules were correct. "So why isn't anyone in any of your classrooms?" "They're there, it's 1:30!" "I was just down that hall, none of these rooms have anyone in there." "We have new classes starting next week!" "Okay, but what about these?" "They're in session." "So why is nobody there?" "There must be!"

I decided to quit the carousel and check out Turrialba itself. The dozen or so girls I managed to find milling around the bus-stops and chop-suey stations near campus had either admitted there was nothing to do on the weekend around there, or else had said the place to go was a disco called Latinos. Naturally, I wanted to see this item.

atlantico-7

What, you can't spot it? This is the happening spot in all of Turrialba, folks! Have you no eye for excitement?

atlantico-8

How about now? Nobody said you can't have a great disco on the balcony of the local social security building!

On a brighter note, the thing downstairs had decent beet-juice.

atlantico-9

In addition, of course, to a screen-for-the-sake-of-having-a-screen ("Activate Windows!") and advertisements for a "workshop on Mayan Mysticism" and "caldosas", which is, I shit you not, ceviche thrown into a bag of corn chips.

The town's main square held the day's real gem, with a certain elusive bird from other excursions somehow choosing this spot to laze about and croon in almost full view.

atlantico-10

Here he is mid-gargle. It sounds about like Roman candles look, if that does anything for you.

atlantico-11

Anyone know who he is?

A cheesy pit-stop on the way back ends this foray:

atlantico-12

Until next time I feel like being delighted and disillusioned in nearly equal amounts, bon fromage.

  1. Turrialba is Costa Rica's cheese mecca, a place where the cows and the coffee bushes do equally well. []