My last days in Cabo - Missing my flight again

In the morning, I said good bye to Ron and Don.  Heather was sleeping, and I was happy I didn't have to say goodbye to her.  I'm sure I hurt her feelings.  I could live with myself.

The Italian drove me back into the city.  I offered to buy the Italian a drink or lunch.  He didn't want it.  I'm sure he was happy to get rid of me.  I made him feel guilty about him exploding on me by continuing to be nice and not arguing back.

The last few days of Cabo wasn't very exciting.  I read and did more internet research.

 But on the day that I was supposed to leave to the airport - uh oh . . .

The day I was supposed to leave, I left early.  I gave myself enough time.  I even gave myself enough time in case something went wrong, but it went royally wrong.

I went on the bus and asked the driver, "To the airport?"  He nodded.  He saw I had luggage.  I should've realized, but he wasn't REALLY paying attention.  He was just nodding.

When we ended up further from the airport, I said in Spanish, "Hey, I was supposed to be at the airport."  And I could see he thought in his head, "Oh damn" or whatever the stronger Spanish equivalent of the word was.

Then he understood.  He gave me back my bus fee!  I had to hitchhike back to the main road.  For some reason, I got the worse bus driver - who was slow and didn't care.

Anyways, I rushed to the check in gate but because I was in a hurry - the security made my life worse.  I missed my flight by five minutes.  =(

But remember how I said I was doing a lot of research in Mexico.  Part of my research was understanding mileage systems better.  I did so, and although it took about two hours, I sorted everything out. 

In the end, I reduced a $200 surcharge to a $75 one.  It might even be less, if I play some tricks in the morning.  I think I could get it down to $50.

Was I stressed?  Not really.  I was disappointed I didn't get to see my dad for dinner in LA.  But there's tomorrow.  Come on: The Russians trapped me in house arrest once.  Now, that was super stressful.  This - this was more of a big annoyance that has become more interesting as I learn the game of travel hacking better.  Even in this - I'm becoming quite skilled.

So - did I learn something?  Yes!  I managed to get back home, without extra fee.  I may have lost a few miles.  Here is my flying tips, written in a dummies-blogging style.

Use BA Avios Instead of AA for Direct Flights

To get home, I had to waste a good amount of American Airlines (AA) miles.  I had booked a flight with AA, and it cost 17,500 miles.  I cancelled that booking today and rebooked the same flight on Alaska for 8,500 avios miles.

All fees are waivable - If you don't get what you want - Call Back

As I reached out for help yesterday, AA wanted to charge me a horrendous $75 fee for last minute booking 'cos I missed my flight.  I called back three times, and I got someone who sounded sympathetic.  They waived the $75 fee, even with a note from the nasty supervisor not to do this.  The new supervisor compromised and charged me a $25 booking fee.

Then, as BA offices opened up, I called AA gain to reinstate the miles.  They charged a $150 fee to do this.  I called back twice.  The first time a no go.  The second time, they waived the fee.  The reason I gave was that the flight was just booked.  Most airlines refund fees and miles within 24 hours.

I called BA three times.  The first time was to check the Alaska flight was available.  The second time was to rebook.  BA policy is that you cannot book avios flights for the same day.  I hung up.  The third time, the agent did it for me.  She didn't even charge me the $25 phone booking fee. I asked to speak to her supervisor to tell her what a wonderful job she did.  I explained I was stuck in Cabo.  She'll go home satisfied with work today.

Don't Challenge the Supervisor

I challenged the supervisor's dumb decision on AA and asked to speak to her manager.  She said her policy said that she didn't have to allow me to speak to her manager.  Because of that, she wrote in my record - refused once to waive fees.  That only made my life harder and I had to do more sweet talking to get what I wanted.  I should've just thanked her and hung up instead of challenging her.

Where I'm at

So, I paid no change fee.  Not even taxes, since they refunded the taxes on my no-show ticket.  This was a much better state I was in than yesterday.  Yesterday, I was looking at rebooking a ticket for $250 USD or paying $133 + 17,500 AA miles.

Lost out still on 8,500 Avios Miles.  I will contest this when I get home.  I've gotten no-show Avios miles before.

* * *

Anyways, this time, I made it back home.  Hooray!

When I walked out the airplane though, I have to say - I felt the strong sense of reality hit me.  I wasn't on holiday anymore.  =(

Day 4 - Phantom Pains to be Remembered

The next morning, I woke up to the smell of roasted coffee.  You have to love the Italians because they have that love for their coffee.

After drinking the coffee, I went to the ocean and washed our pots and cups.  The Italian noticed and said nothing.  He seemed happy enough.

I went to inside the magic bus.  I finished reading The Sun Also Rises.  It was an intense read that was short but because of the complexity of the novel, I went through it rather slowly.  As I was thinking about the meaning behind the novel, I saw a roadrunner scurrying across the desert and snatching a lizard.  Cute, I thought. Beep.  Beep.

Afterwards, I went down to the beach.  Of course, Heather came out to meet me.  She wasn't wearing a bra.

She for whatever reason told me, "You know, I don't want you to judge me.  Please don't judge me.  But I'm here because I'm addicted to pain killers.  Please don't judge me."

"Why would I judge you?"

"Oh, please don't judge you."

I lied, but not completely.  I didn't judge her because she was addicted to substances.  I judged her because she was pathetic.

She said, "Oh, I have to confess.  I don't make any money.  Don pays for everything."

"And you like that?"

"Not really."

"But you don't want that to change."

"Oh, please don't judge me.  I'm a good girl.  I really am."

"What if he leaves you?"

"Oh, honey, let me tell you.  He's not the first one."

"Oh."

"You know, I have four kids.  You should meet my 18 year old daughter."

"Maybe."  Then I said, "Hey, I'm hungry.  I'm going to go hunting for some food in the water."

"Oh, poor baby.  You're protein starved.  I'll take care of that today.  Go get some uni (sea urchin) in the water.  I'll make you sushi rice."

I knew she was playing to my like of Asian food.

I went to Ron.  He suited me up with his dive gear.  I walked into the roaring ocean and sought out a reef.  I was looking for lobster.  But after hours of free diving, I was getting queasy.  The ocean was much too rough.  Whenever I dove down, the wave would drag me back.  Then it would spit me back out.  And after all the see-sawing back and forth in the water, I was feeling sick.  It wasn't all for a loss though.  I grabbed four purple prickly sea urchins.  Yet, when the ocean wave threw me against the shore, I lost one of them.

I walked back to camp.  I saw Heather wearing one of Georgio's necklace.  It was a pendant with an amber stone.  He was also making her matching earrings.  When he finished, she said, "Oh my God.  Oh my God.  They're so beautiful!  Oh my God!  They're perfect."

I saw her put them on.  They were a good match for her, surprisingly.

Don said, "I paid for them.  But I was already laid."

I said, "Well - there's always tomorrow."

He smiled and she said, "That there is."  The comment made him happy.

She said, "Paul!  Paul!  I gave Georgio a chicken breast with rosemary.  I also started cooking sushi rice for you."

"Oh, that's very kind of you.  You didn't have to."  And I really wish she didn't.

"Of course, Baby.  You're protein starved."

"What does that even mean?"

"Oh, you know.  You're a boy.  You need protein."

"I see."

"Hey, I gotta show you my daughter."

She went inside and brought out a picture.  When she descended down the stairs from her RV, she tripped and fell.

"Oh, I'm a bit drunk," Heather said.

Don said, "Only a bit?"

"Oh, shut the Hell up, Don." 

 She showed me a picture.  I saw a gorgeous girl who was sitting like a mermaid at a park behind the Golden Gate Bridge.

She said, "Her name is Destiny."

Don said, "She's a stripper in Reno."

"Shut up, Don!  She is not a stripper."

I was wondering, Is that her real name?  So, I asked, "Is she really called Destiny?"

"Yes, that's her name.  And she's a good girl.  She's only a model.  Not a stripper."

I thought, Oh, I do bet she does nudy shots.  Poor girl. 

"Don just says those things to make me mad," she said.  She went on, "I want to be an artist."

And Don said, "You want to be a lot of things.  And let me tell you - you can't do anything.  So - go get the scissors and cut my hair."

She went inside and almost tripped again.  She brought out scissors.  He sat on a lawn chair facing the ocean.  I saw his pot belly proturding out.  She started snipping his hair.

I started cleaning the sea urchin.  I cut it open with a knife.  I started taking out the orange roe and threshing it out from the grey and brown guts.  I dumped the orange roe, the ovaries of sea urchin, in a cup of ocean water.  Specks of algae and sand washed away.

She stopped cutting Don's hair.  She opened her mouth and said, "Ah.  Can you give me one?"  I put it in her mouth and she licked my fingers.  It was really wet.  The phantom memories would replay over and over again for me after this moment.

I took in a breath.  I released the air.  I dumped my fingers in the salt water too.

She then took some sushi rice in spoon and said, "Say ah."  I opened my mouth.  She fed me.  I felt annoyed.  Why I allowed her to do this would be an enigma to me too.  I think it was because I felt sorry for her.

I started cooking a simple pasta with rich olive oil, tomato sauce, onions, garlic, fish, carrots, sugar and herbs.  It tasted good.

Ron came over afterwards.  We all ate together.  She made some sushi and tried to feed me again.  I told her to put it down on my plate this time.

They asked about my writing.  Then Heather went on about how she was one day going to be a great artist.  Don talked about how he was trying to make it on the country music circuit, even though he's tone deaf.

Ron said he was really tired, even though it was 9pm.  He told me later, "I can't stand another minute with them."

I laughed and we talked about nothing together at his campsite.

Americans.

Day 3 - Thousands of Stars

At the country club, I had two beers.  It was really the only drinks I had on this trip, and I thought, Why not?  But since I haven't drank for months, because of the boxing training, I was already feeling sleepy and tired and relaxed.  After going to the country club, Georgio drove the magic bus to a beach called Nine Palms.  At the sandy area of the beach, you could see many RVS, tents, and campers parked.

He drove through the middle of the beach and the magic bus got stuck in the sand again.  I was half-asleep in the van, happy and relaxed.  The Italian stepped on the accelerator and the bus just got more stuck in the sand.

He said, "Better you get out."

"Huh," I said with a smile.  "Oh, ok."

I got out and helped him push.  He said, "Push harder.  Harder."

"I'm trying."  But I was kind of tipsy.

He started taking more sand away from the wheels.  He said, "You help too."

So, I did.

Then three older Americans, two in their sixties and one in his fifties, came and helped us push the magic bus out.  We parked it on stable land.

One bald guy, who had a very fit body, said, "My name is Ron."

I shook his hand and said, "Pleased to meet you."

A fatter guy with curly grey hair said, "I'm Don."

Then there was the blonde guy with greying and drying hair.  In his twenties, he would've been a surfer boy.  Now, that he was in his fifties, he looked like a fifty year old hippie surfer.  "I'm Dave."

We introduced ourselves to them.  They all went back to their camp sites.

During the heat of the hot, hot day, I sat in the magic bus and read Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises.  I read through it quickly and badly as a junior in college ten years ago.  Since then, the book has been stuck on my shelf.  I didn't like it then because I didn't understand it well.  I knew I had to re-read it.  On my last trip, it was Steinbeck and Orwell.  Now, it was Hemingway and various piece of stunning journalism pieces.  As I was appreciating the read, Georgio asked me, "Do you want a coffee?"

I said, "Sure."

Then he raised his voice and asked, "How come you never make it?"

"Because you always do it."

"But you need make to."

I did, I thought.

"Well, sure.  Why didn't you tell me?"

"I no need to tell you, man.  You just know."

"Uh . . ."

"AND WHY YOU NEVER COOK AND CLEAN?"

"I asked you if you wanted me to do it.  You said, 'No.'  I asked you if you wanted me to clean the dishes.  You said, 'No.'"

"You not ask, man.  You just do."

Really, I thought.  Oh dear God.  This is like New Zealand all over again.  People say what they don't mean.  And they do what they don't say.

"Well, just tell me that you're hungry.  I can cook.  I cook well,"  I said.

"I'm not your mother.  You just need to know."

In my defense, one reason that I didn't cook was for a number of reasons.  One, I felt uncomfortable using his kitchenware.  He was very possessive of it.  Thus, I had no ownership over any of the process.  For you managers and supervisors (present or future), remember: people need ownership of the process.  Two, he had a fussy way of having things done.  I didn't know how to do it that way.  For instance, he wouldn't let me buy cheese for the risotto.

So with me thinking all this, I had this feeling.  (If we were French - we'd have some clever one word phrase that sounded beautiful to describe this feeling.  But we're not.  We're English, and don't have those words that weave beauty and passion and nuance in one trinity.)  It was this feeling: "You just don't understand."

Instead, instead of reacting, I just listened and tried to understand what was really happening.  Obviously, he wanted to do more work.  He also didn't want to tell me how to do it.  He also didn't want to communicate what he needed.

I just asked him, "If you don't tell me - how am I supposed to know?"

"You just know."  I got that feeling again: you just don't understand.

"Ok, I'll cook dinner tonight then."

"No, no.  You don't have to.  I'm not your mother.  You're not a robot."

"No.  I will.  What time do you want to eat?"

"I don't know, man.  You just know."

Oh how the hell am I supposed to know?  

I said, "In America, we usual just say what time we're going to eat together."

"We're not in America.  And I don't like this."

He told me once he had an American girlfriend and they just recently split.  I thought to myself, I know exactly why.

I just said, "Hey, I'll just cook dinner.  Don't worry about it."

To blow off some steam, I saw Ron - the sixty year old who was in shape.  He was an electrician he takes 3 months off of the year to set up camp on this beach.  He had lawn chairs facing the ocean.  He sleeps outside in the summer with a sleeping bag so he can fall asleep to the roaring ocean.  Whenever I saw him, he would say to pull up a chair.  And we chatted about diet, food, exercise and healthy living, which included a lot of vacation.  He was a father of two daughters.  He came to the same camp site for 30 years.  I really liked him.  He was really nice.

Don's girlfriend was not too far away.  She was in turning fifty.  She was a short and plump lady with dyed hair.  She spoke with a strong American accent.  She was from Reno.  She wore a blue summer dress, but sadly, it made her look fat because she wasn't sexy but she tried to be.  She was holding onto a time that left her but refused to believe it.

She beckoned me to come to her.

"What's your name?"  She asked.

"Paul."

"Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles."

"Oh, I never been there.  I'm from Reno."

"Oh.  I need to go and cook dinner.  My Italian friend's not too happy with me."

"Oh, I was married to an Italian.  Divorced now.  Let me tell you Italians are never happy."

I explained to her what happened and she made sense of it for me.

"Oh, you're just supposed to do what they expect.  They're crazy!  My mother in law was the same.  How do you know what they want if they never tell you?  Listen," she said, "you were supposed to watch everything he was doing and from that know what to do."

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah, just go and do what he does.  He's not going to tell you.  They just explode when things don't get done their way.  Then they calm down."

"Ok," I said.

"I'll come see you after dinner, ok Babe."

I thought, I'm not your Babe.  But I just said, "That's fine."

I cooked a beautiful risotto in a tomato sauce.  I asked how much rice was enough for two people.  He said with bad intent, "I don't know.  You figure it out."  Nonetheless, I know how to cook.  I added beetroots in there as well and the whole meal tasted wonderful.  He took second and third helpings.  It was an accomplishment, considering that I was cooking on the beach with a small gas grill.  

So much so, he asked me, "What'd you put in here?"

I told him.

Then he noticed the pan a little charred on the bottom and he said, "Man, this pan, I have four years.  Burn now."

"I'll clean it in the morning."

"Four years."

Then, the plump lady, at night came.  I didn't know her name.  I never learned it.  I'll call her Heather.  She looked like a Heather.  She asked, "Do you boys have any cigarettes?"

I gave her one.  Then she told us how she used to be a hair stylist.  How she hated living at the beach for 3 months already.

I asked her, "Why are all these people here?"

She said, "Because, they're the surfer community, old hippies.  They're looking for that perfect wave.  That's all they do."

"They're all Americans."

"Pretty much," she said.

She kept talking.  About how she was trying to do art.  She wanted to write.  She wanted to introduce me to her 18 year old daughter, who was a model in Reno. 

She asked for another cigarette.

I said, "I think you smoked the last one."  I lied.  There was more.  I just wanted her to stop mooching.  She picked up on my irritation.

I then walked to the shore and said, "Hey Ron.  You there?"

He said, "Sure buddy.  Pull up a chair."

We talked about what guys talk about.  And its usual really about nothing.  We looked up into the sky and saw thousands of stars shining in the infinite sky.

I came up with one line of Spanish poetry too.  Miles de estrellas brillaban en el cielo infinito.  

In English it translates: Thousands of stars shine in the infinite sky.

Day Two in the Magic Bus

Now, let me tell you about this Italian hippie named Georgio.  Georgio left Italy and decided to be a nomad for five years in Mexico.  He became a true wanderer, parking his magic bus wherever, sleeping in it and eating in it, and then moving camp.  To survive, he sells jewelry made of stone and hemp rope. 

He was kind to make dinner.  But something was off.  I would often offer to cut the vegetables and dice the onions.  "No," he said to this.  I offered to wash the dishes.  Fresh water was precious where we were, in the space between the desert and ocean.  So - we couldn't wash our dishes with freshwater and soap.  Seawater would have to suffice for both.  But to my offers to wash the dishes, again he said, "No."

In between the first beach and the second beach, we stopped at a country club for ex-patriot Americans.  It was called the Crossroads and the artwork showed comical paintings of death.  The patio was stunning, as we sat underneath the veranda that overlooked stretches of the sandy Pacific Coast.  Giorgio ordered two beers.  I ordered a Michilada (beer and tomato juice with lime) and a beer.  I paid for it to thank him for the services.

During our conversation over beer, he asked me something.  "Hey man, why do you always use your computer in La Paz?"

"Because, I was doing research.  I was reading.  I was writing."

"But man, it's better use you paper and pen."

"Not really - anymore."  I knew he wouldn't understand the rest of my English - so I went on in Spanish.  "Since I was ten, my parents put me on a computer.  My life hasn't been the same since.  The screen is my canvas.  The keyboard my brushes."

"But I think you should change.  Pen and paper better for writing."

I would've loved to explain that I lost the skill to write on pen and paper.  This lost skill, he understood.  But I don't know if it's necessarily better.  My handwriting is ugly.  I hate editing on pen and paper.  It's easier scrolling up and down a page.  The advantage is I seem to catch mistakes better when I read my writing on paper.  Other than that, it's slower and less efficient.

I didn't bother explaining.  Georgio always thinks he's right.  Italians do think that.

I went out on the beach and found a fish bone.  It looked like a piece of the backbone, but it looked like a skeletal fossil.  I thought it would be good for Georgio to have.  He could us it in his jewelry.

I showed it to him and said, "It's for you."

He said, "Thank you, but I don't use animal parts in my jewelry."

"Why not?"

"Because if everybody did this, there would be no animals in the world.  People would kill them.  And take their bones."

I thought, are you kidding me?  That makes no sense.  Your stones, if they ever became precious too, would produce blood diamonds.  It doesn't matter the product, if it produces good money, something bad is bound to happen by some overlord. Of course, to be honest, I wish the logic so ingrained in me in law school would just shut off in my mind.  It cannot.

I just smiled and said, "I see."

"But thank you, man."

He must have sensed that there was more underneath that smile.

Soon we would be at the next beach. 

These differences in thought was just the beginning.  I could already feel more to come.

Magic Bus Around Mexico

I went in a random Volkswagen bus around the Baja tip of Mexico with an Italian hippie.  He looked like Jesus, except had brown and not blue eyes.

The first day, we arrived at a beach near a Marine Reserve.  Immediately after we exited the bus, a short and fat Mexican guy that wore a dirty white tee shirt approached us.  His blobby body looked like that of a toad: small head, amorphous throat, and a big belly.

He started to speak to the Italian in Spanish.  I could understand the conversation.  He wanted us to pay 30 pesos each for parking on his private lot.  The Italian told him that Mexican law allowed us to walk to the beach.  He agreed but he said that the parking lot was on his land, even though there were federal trash bins on it.  The Italian tried to negotiate with him, but when I saw all was failing, I stepped in.

"Hey," I said, "We should only have to pay 30 pesos for parking the car.  Not per person."

"No, per person," he said.

"No, because our only use of the land is parking the car.  The use of the beach, you can't stop us."

"Yes, but I have toilets for you."

"So, I won't use your toilets."

"Well, where you going to pee?"

"In the ocean."

"That's dirty.  It's a reserve."

"Why the animals do it?"

"You're not an animal."

"Close enough.  Hey, but you're not the federal marine reserve police are you?"

"No."

"Then it's none of your business."

My Italian friend got mad at me for being so vicious.  He said, "Let's just leave, man."

In the van, he said, "Your style, in Mexico, no good."

I tried to explain to him I already saw we weren't going to win with this guy, so of course the gloves came off.  But he was upset that I was vicious.  Toady was so illogical though.  I found out later, the parking area with the federal bins wasn't owned by him anyways.  It was all a lie.

At the next beach, the Italian drove the bus through the sand but the bus got stuck in it.  The more he drove it, the more it dug itself deeper and more entrenched in the sand.  We tried to push and push, but it would not move.  It was stuck

A fat Australian guy, who was huge, and a skinny French guy came and helped us push.

I put my hand out for him to shake.  The French guy said, "My name is Cyril."  The Australian guy said, "My name is Truan."  The beach stretched out forever and there were just two of us who owned it all.

At sunset, I saw little black rays shoot out high out of the water.  They looked like black kites flying in the air.  I ran for exercise during the sunset and also saw sea lions swimming in pairs, butterfly paddling through it.  I watched the Mexican fisherman fly fish, which is done with no bait.  He caught 10 fish.

Then I noticed the silver and posh jeep come by.  The driver ran it through the beach like a maniac.  Two French men, in their forties, came out.  Their jeep was stuck in the sand but it being a fancier car, they were able to utilize the four wheel drive to lodge it out.

They were already drunk and boorish and proud and rude.  Nonetheless, I continued my run.  At night, they asked that I drink with them.

One of the sleazier French guys brought with him a Mexican girl.  She sat behind him and placed her hands all over his chest.  He was so proud of himself that he had money and this sexy girl.  She paid no attention to me.  I paid no attention to her.

We sat around the fire.  The Italian hippie did not come.  He wanted to be alone but he cooked a rice dinner for us.

The other drunk French guy talked about how he was opening an exclusive night club.

The Australian guy asked if it would be a Sam's club.  And everyone started laughing.

They all smoked weed.  The sleazy French guy, who was called Jerome, kept neck kissing the little Mexican girl in front of us.  They weren't too interested in me, though they liked my politeness.  I drank nothing though.  I did not want to ruin my diet on holiday.

The next morning I came back and the sexy Mexican girl was by herself without Jerome.  She just sat there on the beach.  In the light, she studied me and evaluated me in a different light.  She liked what she saw.  I saw she looked cheapened.

I said good bye to everyone.  The Italian did not.  Cyril and his girlfriend were happy to meet me.  I told them they could visit me in Los Angeles.

The Italian hippie and I took the magic bus and drove to the next beach.  I pulled out a cigarette, though I usually do not smoke, and lit it in his van.  The soothing taste of mint tobacco filled my mouth.

The Magic Bus to Cabo Pulmo

I've been in La Paz, Mexico for a week.  Remember; I hitchhiked up here.  I dove with the sea lions and for the most part, I read.  I remember my mentor making a comment about reading.  I have to ask him about it again, but it was basically that people no longer read difficult material.  When I heard that, I thought, two things.  One, it was, yeah - that's true isn't it?  Two, it was damn, that means I should continue reading difficult material even though I'm not in school anymore.

Reading difficult material is like fighting against the status quo.  It's already hard enough to find the time to read, but our markets are flooded with literature I'm sure is aimed to make us complacent.  We have entertaining reads like: Hunger Games, Fifty Shades of Grey and Harry Potter. And although they provide some nominal value, what more do you get out them?  You really have to take an extra step to create a reading list, find these books, get these books, and then work hard at understanding them.

On that note, I read Justice Loius Brandeis' biography - which inspired me.  He graduated at his time with the highest gpa at Harvard Law, became one of the most progressive lawyers and justices of his time, and strategized new ways to change the law.  I was inspired to read his biography because he wrote the second most influential law review articles of all time.  He wrote on the Right to Privacy - in which he develops new law that says - We have the right to be left alone.

I then read a famous economic piece on law.  And then, I read Oliver Holmes' famous Path of the Law.  I'll share with you the most inspiring thing that Justice Holmes said.  He said that the one with the most power is not one with money.  Get this: It is one who "commands ideas."  Notice he didn't say it was one who creates ideas or understands ideas or knows ideas.  No, it's the person who commands them.  Makes it his or her own.  And then launches an idea into action.  And uses it to persuade others.  One only need to look at the influence of Descarte and Kant's legacy to understand this. 

So, reading that is probably the most significant thought I've gained since January, making my trip to La Paz now doubly worth it as I also met a cool person from Italy. 

I met some Portuguese fellows the other day.  We had lunch the other day.  I had bisteca (steak) with beans and jamaica.  I saw them off to the bus stop.  They were going to ferry into the mainland of Mazatland from Baja California.  They added to my reading list by giving me the names of their best authors. 

I met two German medical students yesterday.  They were interested in me too because they saw I was "doing" nothing.  But I told them, I'm reading, thinking, and researching.  I told them the idea I learned about commanding ideas, and I saw their eyes light up as well - as they understood I hit on an important concept. 

I also met an Italian gypsy, who sells fancy stones and wears clothes like he's from Arabia.  He has a Volkswagon Magic Bus.  We're going to drive to the beach today.  I won't have anymore internet or a hot shower until the 4th or 5th of June.  I'm going to sleep in his magic bus.  Oh, so sad: no more wifi.  So we'll see how this goes.

I'll take pictures.  I'm supposed to learn some Italian cooking from him.

PS: I also am catching up on the HBO series: Game of Thrones.

Citibank Steals - My First Online Petition

Hi Blog Readers:

I promise to not do this often.  But this time, I really believed in this cause.  Citibank steals.  I was so disgusted by what they were doing to others, I volunteered to write a petition.  Surprisingly, from the boonies, many people came and supported my efforts by revising, editing, and advising.

Please take the time to read my petition.  If it moves you, please sign and send it along.

http://www.change.org/petitions/citi-bank-reinstate-confiscated-thank-you-points-and-card-services#

Thank you,

Paul Cook