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Glide San Gil
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It turns out that the hostel is amazing (thanks Carston). However its pretty noisy between the kitchen being outside our room and a huge gap at the top of our door allowing us to eves drop on everyone. So a nice lie in until 10am was enjoyed.

J organised some ‘Hangliding’ for later, which turned out to be Parapenting, the homosexual sibling of hangliding. V had an interesting encounter with the parapenting man’s gooch on her back everytime he coughed. J landed just in time as a storm made its way across the sky and we grabbed some ingredients from the supermarket/vegetable market/carneceria and made a lasagne. By we I mean V. J’s involvement went no further than eating it.

Met a load of idiots in the hostel, including one extremely retarded Canadian girl who introduced us to a whole new world of pain. After pointing at a picture of mountains and saying “I live in a city…which is not like this” and “i’m not naive or stupid so I just say ‘no pablo espanol’”, V could handle it no longer and literally walked away midsentence and went back to the room and giggled, just within earshot of J who had to continue the smalltalk for an unbearable amount of time.



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