Well, the Museum of the Revolution was the highlight so far.

Anyway, here I am in my 'cheap' option for the second night. No hot water, no a/c, just a standard fan, but still a private hostel room - and that picture over there. About as far as I'm willing to go these days, what where age determines and finances allow. Back posh tomorrow if my bus turns up, so here's hoping. The mosquitos in Leon are particularly annoying - as is some Aussie woman who won't stop going on about them.

It's strange how things have changed in the seven years since my last proper solo trip. Mainly down to t'internet of course, but it does take a lot of the 'awayness' away. On the positive side, you can listen to the radio in downtime, Rhod Sharp and Eddie Mair happening to be on at the exact two times you're likely to be listening in. And also Chris Hawkins as you go to bed. All very nice, as is keeping in touch with people via the usual arrangements, although I can't help thinking that free phone calls via Viber and the like just make it all too easy.

I'm much more traveller focussed now, ready to take people on for little rip-offs, gird my loins for complicated conversations or journeys and much more ready to rough it if I need to. Spanish has come back a bit, too.

Trouble is this is a short trip and I'm determined to holiday as opposed to experience (especially after last year), so there are huge compromises to be made and inevitable gaps in the fun. Still, I'm a lucky boy to be doing this, so I'll count my blessings and try to find a nice meal for the night.

Cheers!

Later...

And indeed I did find a nice meal - one that finally got eaten after the inviolate rule of me abroad: I will always look forward to a meal, having selected a particular restaurant and always go there on the night it's shut. That's happened twice this week - and it's only Wednesday.

Other things.

Despite being a home of coffee it's daft hard to get a decent cup. Cuban style is fine when you want one, but I don't always want one.

Sometimes you just have to remember that personal space is a cultural phenomenon - and one we pay for in the West. Same goes for illumination. The rule is low light in poor countries - again unless you pay for it. As I write this in my hammock, the hostel bloke has been to check that someone is actually using the electricity. The streets are generally dark, which is no great loss and perhaps something we'll need to get increasingly used to when we cop on.

Water (and particularly clean drinking water) is a commodity. Despite the advances in health and education brought about by the Sandinistas, washing your clothes and your bum in potable water is still an expensive bridge (!) too far.

Leaving exclusive travel/experience/self-contained pods aside, most people out looking at stuff are generally happy to talk, if not always to share...

And finally - the track of the day appears to have died. A mixture of (the now hated) Chromebook and a lack of preparation on my part. Long live the literary quote.

Currently back to The Master - Vonnegut. Nothing profound, but a neat little comment that once again reflects certain moments in my, er, life. This time on drugs:

"[This] drug was so powerful...that even a person numb from the waste down would copulate repeatedly and enthusiastically after just one glass."

The answer is surely obvious.

Gin. Welcome to the Monkey House.

Breaking news. Some excitable Germans have just arrived. Good.