The journalists and relief workers have left our hotel, and in their place are a handful of folks trying to locate family members. There are worried phone calls at the pay phones.
Today was a rain-out, so a planned excursion to my favorite local restaurant has been postponed until tomorrow. Truth be told, our hotel restaurant really is good, and the menu is always so bizarrely translated that I would hate to miss an offering. If I had gone out tonight I wouldn't have had the chance to eat this:
When I'm in a hotel room for this long there are only two possible outcomes: I go crazy or I get productive. I never know which it will be, but on this trip is is decidedly the latter. I've dreamed up a new cone, done lots of work on two projects yet to be announced, and have been formulating frequent buyer incentives. I've been reading dissertation proposals and sketching my own. To top it off I've been practicing AND managing to get into the sun. I'm making myself nervous. The next thing you know I'll be living in a shack whipping up a manifesto.