A smooshy mish mash that is only good with all the parts
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Artista Hotel: Borocay Island, Philippines
I just can't spell Philippines right, every time I write it I find a new way to spell it. We landed in Paradise. Another pillow, I like this one and another room-mate, Miss Elaina
The thing about Smores
is that they are only something that would happen in America. By America I mean the U.S.A. One of the many times I realized I was different recently was camping with girlfriends. Everyone knew what to do, how to stop a bear from eating you, how to keep water out of your tent, how to cook a 5 course meal over a campfire. I didn't grow up camping, in Arabia nobody wants to leave their home to go sleep in a tent. The U.N. gives tents to refugees when their homes get demolished by Israel. So the thought of sleeping in a tent for fun is not something that Arabs take lightly. Long story short, I felt like the odd guy at the campfire. One thing that came so naturally was of course THE SMORE. All the mushy goo goodness is so right.
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