Late 20s 1950s

        It“s Amanda“s (my partner on this trip and at life) 27th birthday today, so she sets most of the agenda. This is a good thing, translating to a relaxing day of reading, lounging, and otherwise relaxing in our beautiful tropical environs.
        The core of why we work: her patience. We go on what I thought would be a sub-20-minute walk that turns into closer to 3 hours, in search of a rumored local petroglyph. The pinnacle“s a beach near cliffs, and locals promptly tell us that the petroglyph“s around rocky shoreline. But, they say we can“t go further: it“s too dangerous with the rising tide. This is about as effective encouragement as telling me I“m not allowed; I study the route, promise Amanda I“ll turn around if it“s too sketchy or I hit 14 minutes in 1 direction, and, even on her birthday, she“s OK with this. I don“t see the petroglyph, but it is an enjoyable (and safe if you've got an ounce of coordination) scramble over rocks. On second thought, "petroglyph" may have been supposed to mean "rock that looks like somebody," so maybe I did see it. If you know what Cara Del Indio in San Juan del Sur is supposed to be, let me know.
        The power's out for most of the day, worth mentioning not from any interference with our day but from the insignificance this holds. The power of relaxing, reading, and enjoying our day dims any (slight) negative introduced by a lack of functioning centralized utilities. I'm fairly sure the showers are gravity-pressurized rainwater and the sewage probably flows at safe rates into the ocean. I think of the relatively small number of solar panels and other equipment we'd need to replace the grid and maintain all the necessities plus most of the luxuries...
        Definitely worth mentioning is my big new problem: I wanted to spend time inventing and time traveling. The problem is, today I find it possible to do both. A piece of driftwood, my Leatherman pocketknife, the ruler printed inside our lonely planet guidebook, and a pen are the ingredients to a hacked-together bike rack I'll crash-test tomorrow. It's extremely time-consuming and quite rewarding to cut a ~2-inch-diameter hole in an ~3/4-inch piece of wood with the knife, saws, pliers, and screwdrivers from my pocketknife. I guess your workshop's mainly between your ears...
        All in all, relaxing's powerful: reading, a little hiking, being really proud of my making a hole in a piece of wood: pleasures can be surprisingly simple.
        Oh, and the title: Amanda officially referred to herself as in her "late-20s" today. With her resemblance to supermodel redheads of a bygone era, I'll call her "late 20s 1950s" for the next few years:)

<links> <pictures> <writings> <me>