“When in Rome, do as the Romans do”, advised Zapata on Friday.
“When in Rome, fuck the Romans”, I replied.

Still, I partly followed his advice. So, we went to last Saturday’s wedding (yet another one) only for part two, the congratulations session, nice and proper.

We also took Zapata’s advice a bit further; we thought: “we are strangers here, let’s do as strangers do”. Therefore, we also visited that grand waterpark, among fellow foreigners: Israelis, Brits, Russians, Pakistanis and not a single Outposter — Outposters do not even work there. We did all the rides, some of them twice, water slides and watery versions of rollercoasters. The result? Huge fun. So much fun like we had never had here. See, you might have figured out that locals appear largely incapable of having fun, a predicament that by now can be claimed to be of an infectious nature. So it was great we at least had so much fun, for a change.

Of course, us being us, we did our own bit of warped things, too. We went to the beach and we swam at night, under the full moon, with three elderly local residents standing on the beach and looking on, possibly mindful of the possibility of sex rather than of our lives, as they left before our coming out of the water. Tonight, our neighbours from across the street stood in their balcony, ostensibly trying to peer through curtains and half open windows into our living room. They were perplexed by our having a picnic on the floor.


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