It's low tide in Rocky Point right now, and so beautiful. I took three thousand pictures and I'm genuinely excited about them so I'm sure every single one will suck. It's odd and wonderful to be sitting here in foreign sand while the unmistakable smell of brown turkey wafts en masse from a thousand high-rise condos on Sandy Beach. Intermittent internet, constant Dos Equis.

Christopher, as promised, carried our pale sticky turkey to a popular chicken vendor in town and begged for help. An hour later he was handed five styrofoam containers full of marinated, charcoal grilled and cleaver-severed bird. Doubtlessly the best turkey I've ever eaten; we've had dinner three times since two o'clock. Or four times. We've eaten the turkey's back, which I think counts as four times.

Tomorrow we'll hand Chris our other clammy turkey and demand wine from water again. Maybe that one we won't eat with our hands.

¶ posted by Erin on Thursday, November 23, 2006