sleep-deprived drums in siesta city

i woke up at 5am to practice drums in this place that doesn’t even have a proper room for it. the city of siesta is basically a giant room with broken windows and a vibe that screams ‘don’t care.’ i just checked and it’s 17.01 right now, hope you like that kind of thing. it’s not cold, it’s not hot, it’s just… there. like a thermostat set to ‘meh.’

the neighbors? they’re either asleep or outside smoking something that smells like burnt rubber. i heard one guy last night talking about how he’s gonna move to mexico city. ‘the vibes are better,’ he said. i don’t know if that’s true or if he was just high. someone else told me that the local bakery sells toast with existential dread. don’t ask me to describe it. just picture a crusty piece of bread with a sad face on it.

i spent most of the day trying to find a good spot to play. the street was empty except for a guy in a hoodie who kept looking at my guitar like he was judging my life choices. i finally found a park with a bench and a broken speaker. i plugged in my amp and started thrashing. the weather was perfect for it-17.01, 34% humidity, and a breeze that made my hair stand on end. i didn’t even notice the sun until it was too late.

if you get bored, some other towns are just a short drive away. siesta is like a stopover before you realize you’re not even supposed to be here. i heard a drunk tourist say that the street food is the best in the region. i tried it and it was… okay. maybe better than my last meal of canned spam. maybe.

someone told me that the city’s name comes from a 19th-century builder who wanted to ‘siesta’ all day. i don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds like a good story. another person warned me that the tap water is definitely not for drinking. i didn’t ask why, but i took that advice. bad move? maybe. i ended up buying a bottle of water from a vendor who looked like he’d rather be playing drums. he charged me 2 euros for a tiny thing. i paid because i didn’t want to hear his rant about capitalism again.

i saw a review online that said siesta has the best street art in europe. i looked it up and it turns out it’s just a bunch of murals painted by a guy who’s clearly obsessed with owls. one of them had a face that looked like it was drawn by a sleep-deprived teenager. i took a photo of it with my phone. the lighting was bad, but i liked the chaos.

the weather here is like a mood. it’s not trying to be pretty. it’s just… existing. i don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. maybe it’s a sign that siesta is authentic. or maybe it’s a sign that no one cares enough to make it look nice. i heard another rumor that the local gym is owned by a former yoga instructor who got fired for teaching people to breathe too loudly. don’t ask me to verify that. i just know it sounds plausible.

i need to mention that i’m not a professional at this. i’m a touring session drummer who’s basically lost. i don’t have a plan. i don’t have a schedule. i just roll with it. last night, i tried to play with a local band but they thought i was too loud. i left after they asked me to lower the volume. i don’t know if that was a compliment or a critique. probably both.

here’s a map if you want to find me:

. it’s a tiny dot in a big place. i’m probably somewhere near the broken speaker in the park. or maybe i’m not. who knows?

i took a few photos to document this chaos.

. this one is me holding a notebook while crying.

. that’s not me, but it’s close.

. this one is just text. i don’t know why.

i’m not sure where this post is going. maybe it’s not going anywhere. that’s the point. siesta is a place where things just… happen. you don’t plan them. you just show up. maybe that’s why i’m here. maybe that’s why i didn’t sleep last night. maybe that’s why i’m writing this. i don’t know. i’ll find out when i stop being sleep-deprived. probably never.

some links you might wanna check: tripadvisor siesta reviews, yelp siesta food, local siesta board, and my digital nomad guide. i didn’t pick these. they just appeared in my mind while i was playing drums at 3am.

i’m not saying siesta is perfect. i’m not saying it’s not. i’m just saying it’s here. and it’s messy. and that’s okay. maybe that’s what makes it real. maybe that’s why i’m still here. probably.

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