Home Sweet Hut
On the 13th of March the Airlie Beach jungle hit became my longest stopping point since leaving Boston.
Last week I took advantage of a brief break in the downpour to walk to the grocery and found some poor bastard’s day-sailer smashed up on the sidewalk. He’s going to be in for quite a surprise when he comes up to his beach house for the winter.
With roads still impassible and the outdoors effectively rendered into a massive shower, I’ve no choice but to hunker down and work on my rice cooking skills.
The locals had the same idea, and the hut I have been sharing with transient Europeans has been invaded by moths and grasshoppers the size of iPhones.
The place is pretty spartanly appointed with not more than a college dorm size fridge, porcelain pooping chair and an ice-cold shower that makes you feel like you’re getting subdued at a civil rights rally in the 1960′s. At least the congregated roof is solid enough to keep most of the water out.
There is a WiFi access point in the middle of the residential village. But of course, the router is quite touchy and creeps along at a dismal 40 Kb/second making Google Earth or porn downloads only feasible in the most desperate of times.
Now I’m borrowing a connection from an upscale hotel lobby down the street… hoping if I hang around here long enough one of these waiters will bring me a whiskey.