John Flournoy

This is really one of the gems of the city, one of those places that in a couple of years you’ll be able to say “I was there before it was featured in the Wall Street Journal, or even the Chronicle, when it was just our neighborhood eatery supplying some of the most inventive fare on the west coast, and all below the radar!”

Actually, it’s already too late. But at least their prices haven’t gone up. For $30 a head you can feast and get liquored up.

Somewhere near here, in another lake, there may be a cache of Incan artifacts.

The best swim of my life. And a church high on a fortified grassy hill. That’s all I remember.

My flight out was at 6am and so I thought it foolish to rent a room. I went to a recomended traveler meet-up spot that served free franks and cheap sangria, and there met a girl who was looking for floor crashers. I paid her 10 Euro to let me drop my pack on her dusty wood floor while I ran around the city. At 4am I picked up my bag and hopped a bus.

I was here during the summer thousands died from the heat. I remember very little of the city, only that it had little to offer until you got to the edge of the mesa, where wholesale shops are set up. There is a park, and a very thin river.

There is no reason for you not to go here. The thunder and rain, or sun and breeze, the rocks and boats or just everything else is reason enough.

When it’s windy here, the waves come ashore as if the ocean were a little lapping lake. The place is fierce.

Best Wedding Ever.

Chase Birds, visit the cathedral. Make sure it’s overcast.

Remember to say Bon Jour (or Bon Soir) when you enter a shop and Au Revoir when you exit a shop. It’s only polite.