i swear this town smells like a badgers nest and someone forgot to turn off their espresso machine

so i woke up to a ceiling fan spinning like it’s auditioning for a jazz band and the air conditioning whining like a dying animal. it’s 31.18 degrees out there right now, which in my book means i need a drink involved. not a fancy one. just something with ice and a splash of regret. i guess the sun decided to throw a party today, didn’t it?

when i asked a local where to get decent coffee, they just stared and handed me a bottle of lukewarm concentrate. i made eye contact with the universe and bought a snack instead. turns out, the best places here are the ones that smell like burnt toast and existential dread. i heard that’s a thing. maybe.

i’ve been wandering around thinking about why my shadow seems obsessed with my feet. maybe it’s trying to tell me something. or maybe it’s just hot. either way, i’m picking up a wandering spot. if you get bored, the nearest city is just a short drive away. don’t let them trick you into taking a detour through a cornfield. happened to me once. slow poison.

someone told me that the beach has a secret cove where people dump expired cupcakes. i didn’t believe them, but now i’m paranoid about sand. weird. i also heard that if you ask the barista at the corner shop for a ‘mocha with extra soul,’ they’ll give you a cinder instead. take that as a warning. or a challenge. your move.

the weather here is like a stranger who keeps showing up unannounced. crucial to check the forecast. or at least pretend to. i asked a taxi driver if it’ll rain tomorrow. he handed me a lottery ticket and said, ‘welcome to life.’ i tried to explain that 31.18 degrees isn’t great for spontaneous snorkeling, but he was already too busy flirting with the dashboard.

i took a picture of a perfectly symmetrical puddle reflecting the streetlights. it looked like a Rorschach test done by someone who hates art. honestly, the only art here is the way the humidity clings to your skin like a bad tattoo. i’m not sure if that’s poetic or if i just survived a science experiment.

i stumbled into a yoga class that was being held in a shipping container. the instructor was wearing socks with sandals and preaching about "grounding through the cracks." i didn’t question it. i followed the crowd. by the end, i was either spiritually enlightened or just really thirsty. we’ll never know.

i’m tagging some places that might help others. first, ➔ https://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g365002-d885694-r943014- for reviews that sound like they’ve been written by a parrot on a bad day. second, ➔ https://www.yelp.com/biz/local-brew-station-mangrove/ if you’re desperate for caffeine. and last, ➔ https://www.localboards.org/post/riding-the-tides/ because somehow, this town has a surfing scene. i’m 80% sure it’s just kids throwing plastic bottles into the water.

i woke up yesterday and suddenly wanted to know the history of every single wall in this town. turns out, one of them is from the 1500s and smells like old secrets. i touched it. now i’m grounded. literally. the neighbors kept whispering, ‘you’ve brought bad luck.’ i told them i brought a coffee machine. maybe that’s why my latte tasted like regret.

i’d recommend this place to anyone who loves heat, humidity, and the quiet kind of chaos that makes you question your life choices. just bring a one-way ticket. or a really thick coat. or both.

p.s. if you’re a coffee snob, don’t leave without asking about the’ve. i’m told it’s a thing here. i didn’t ask. you should.

i swear this town smells like a badgers nest and someone forgot to turn off their espresso machine

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