Tourists

Finally we spent a day being tourists, and we will tomorrow too.  We weren't sure what to expect when we arrived, and we're paying nearly 12€ per night to moor in the heart of town so we figured we'd jolly well better enjoy it.

So we are.

There's a light show in the main square each night, and because it doesn't get dark till rather later than we deem respectable, it doesn't start till almost eleven.  We almost had to set the alarm to make sure we were awake, but we ambled off and were pleasantly surprised to discover that the show was miles better than the "Min Min Encounter" we suffered through in Boulia last year, although the fellow traveller we met a few days ago may have been stretching the point when she told us it traced the history of the place.

The show was an intriguing combination of Terry Gilliam (Monty Python) graphics, sixties psychedelia some terrific music, and modern laser technology, and I suspect that the purveyor of substances advertising on my "Postcards" blog today also had a reasonable increase in sales while it was being produced.

Nancy seems to be like that, a mix of old and new, originality and banal.  It sells tee shirts without a care for the consequences of plagiarism.  I ♥ NY they seem to proclaim in a well known graphic form, but there is a tiny "anc" between the "N" and the "Y" where least one expects it.  

They sell underwear for blokes with rulers running up the crotch, a measure of the man.  

But they don't sell hats, and we wish they did and we walked for more than ten kilometres in the sun wishing they did.  There's no need it seems, it's all remarkably foreign to us.  The other day when hitching a ride on the boat, a young passenger was complaining about being bored.  Her mother put an instant stop to the complaining with:

"Well if you're bored, go and lie in the sun."  

In the southern hemisphere the fact that melanoma cures boredom is still a closely guarded secret.