Santa Cruz

6 Jul

Santa Cruz Plaza, a couldy afternoon at the very end of June.  2009.

I’m in an old frontier city, something out of the old wild west, with low houses and wide streets.  But it seems to have been created with an architect’s pen, carefully designed, aligned, in a grid lock format with rings that eminate from the center.

Regal, ambitious, but with obvious signs of decay, it was sort of like a soviet republic with signs of former glory, except that i can’t be sure it ever had any former glory at all – just a story of poverty, of hope, of despair.

But truth be told I didn’t stray far from a hammock filled hostel that was full of good people, palm trees, and was close to the bars.

I hit it off well with a group of travelers that had been together for sometime, and we spent a few afternoons hanging out, drinking beers, and playing cards.  I even ended up staying an extra night in town with them before we all split up and went in different ways.

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