El Lugar Que no Puede Ser Nombrado

I know this happened in 2009, and it's March 2010. But mom and dad were nice enough to talk to me for the hour I spent waiting on Caltrain this morning, so here we go.




Model A?

The part that looks like America. Bollards. Fresh paint. Tourists with fanny packs and beautiful people feeding each other meat on sticks. The beer was probably even more than two dollars. We only spent a few hours here.

This is a representative example of many of the downtown city streets. Josh, I'm sorry I yelled at you to get out of the way for this shot. I didn't want that guy to photobomb it.

This is representative of the streets elsewhere.

I bet the transmission in this cab wouldn't fall out on the way home from the club at 1 AM and force us to hitchhike home.

The world's finest example of art deco.

Everybody loves putting highways between pedestrians and the water. At least these have sidewalks.

Memorabilia from Cienfuegos riots back in the day.

Josh can affirm that I flip over every cup and plate when we travel and make a comment about trading circles. This is the coolest one I've ever found.

With more voice.


Your example, your ideas remain.


Josh is a cowboy. On a steel horse he rides.


That rock on the side of the picture there? That's right. CAVE DISCO.


Teddy Williams knocks one right outta the pahk.


I hope it doesn't actually run better than my 1991 vintage.


Trinidad.


Double hood ornaments.


Haragán.


The black marks in the water are 16 foot tall coral reefs full of fish. Thankfully the exiles didn't stomp all over them in their failed invasion, and the locals are too poor to get close. Whew.