Long Read

a weird weekend in some town i can't pronounce

@Silas Dean2/12/2026blog
a weird weekend in some town i can't pronounce

so i just rolled into this place after a 6-hour bus ride that smelled like old cheese and regret. the numbers 1267579 and 1356044207 mean nothing to me, but apparently they're some kind of local legend or bus route or something. anyway, the air here is dry-like, 29% humidity dry-and the temp is sitting at 23.12°C, which feels more like 22.24°C because the wind keeps messing with my hair. i checked the weather app and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.

i'm staying in this weird little guesthouse run by a guy who keeps offering me "special tea" and calling me "brother." the walls are thin, the Wi-Fi is slower than my grandma's dial-up, and the showerhead looks like it's been through a war. but the view from the balcony? chef's kiss. mountains in the distance, a stray dog that follows me everywhere, and a rooster that starts crowing at 4 a.m. like it's got a grudge against sleep.

*random overheard gossip: someone told me that the best street food is sold by a lady near the old clock tower, but another local warned me her samosas once made a tourist hallucinate for three days. i'm taking my chances.

if you get bored, [cities] are just a short drive away, but honestly, i'm too lazy to leave. i did find this tiny bookstore that smells like dust and forgotten dreams, and the owner let me flip through a 1970s atlas for free. also, there's a bar called "The Rusty Nail" where the bartender looks like he's been there since the 80s and the beer tastes like nostalgia.

pro-tip:* bring your own snacks. the local convenience store only sells chips that taste like sadness and expired gum.

mountains near the town

street food stall

rooftop view


anyway, i'm off to find that samosa lady. wish me luck or a stomach of steel. later.


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About the author: Silas Dean

Sharing snippets of wisdom from my daily adventures.

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