No marvelous color photos with which to grace this post-it's too damn' hot and muggy to carry a camera. The ever-present cloudbursts are of no concern, as I have my underwater camera, but it's just another thing to weigh down the clothes and make them stick to the skin. So far, I've re-hydrated with a case of San Miguel numerous bottles of water and half a litre of tequila to kill anything in the water. I'm beginning to feel like a carachter in a Michener novel; bouncing from sweltering bar to almost-air-conditioned bar in the eternal pursuit of something to kill or ward off tropical parasites. The only thing I look forward to other than de-planing at Madrid is the cold shower at the end of each day. I've been here a week, and there's twenty days to go.
Don't be surprised if I pull a double-Van Gogh and cut off both my ears. If you've been following this blog, you'll remember my 2011 rant about the incessant noise here in Manila. I can't say that it's gotten worse, but it isn't any better. Anyway, we fly to Negros for a week, starting the 7th, then rush back for second fittings of her gown and my suit. Had to go to a tailor, as all I could find on the racks here were dark woolens, shiny sharkstooth or piped "guido" suits that look as though they should be worn by a cross between Elvis Presley (on drugs) and a Times Square pimp. So I ordered a conservative, light linen suit which will probably turn out looking like something Don Johnson would have worn on Miami Vice. I think his tailor was a pimp.
Looking forward to going home to Spain.
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