marisport: where the seagulls outnumber the tourists and the wifi’s a mystery

okay so you’re here now. maybe you stumbled into marisport because of some convoluted map glitch or a misplaced ferry ticket. doesn’t matter. the place feels like a half-baked dream someone recorded on a grainy camcorder. i just checked and it’s 16.69 right now, which is basically ‘too cold for shorts but not cold enough to care about’ weather. sounds boring? good. because marisport is.


staying at that hostel near the dock, which they call ‘the leviathan’ but it’s just a guy in a bathrobe hosting a podcast about failed seagull breeding projects. neighbors here are either fishermen with salt-crusted faces or people who’ve given up on life and started painting buildings. one old guy over there keeps arguing with the sea about climate change. i heard that. through the fence. at 3am.


the weather’s a whole vibe. 76% humidity means everything’s dripping, including my soul. feels like a spa day if spas were built by sad millennials. i mean, i tried to run but my shoes became couches. a local told me that if you get bored, the next cove is ‘just a short drive away’ but i don’t even know what the next cove is. sounds like a riddle wrapped in a tax form.


reviews? forget them. i overheard a drunk at the bar say the seafood market’s ‘a scam run by octopuses in plainclothes.’ another person claimed the beach was ‘a giant turtle’s ex-girlfriend.’ maybe true. who knows. i heard that the last café closed at 2pm because the owner wanted to ‘reinvent himself as a wallflower.’ classic marisport.


i plan to leave here before the sun sets. why? because the moon here is cursed. or maybe because the power goes out like clockwork at 9pm. either way, i’ll head to that place with the weird blue signs. the one that says ‘marine museum’ but it’s just a tent with a guy playing harmonica.





seriously, look at this map. it’s a tiny dot. like how marisport itself is. you’ll probably get lost. i did. three times. once i found a bakery that sold bread so stale it whispered secrets. the owner said it was ‘perfect for reminiscing.’ he might be lying.


photos? here’s the chaos.

links? why not.

- check out tripadvisor for the ‘haunted lighthouse’ which is just a guy in a tutu.
- yelp says the octopus scam is real.
- local boards warn about the mysterious Monday closures.
- if you’re desperate, marine museum has Wi-Fi… maybe.


marisport isn’t a place. it’s a feeling. the kind you get when you realize no one speaks english here. or that your backpack’s started muttering. probably. i packed snacks. they might be helpful. or they might be a distraction from the fact that your leg just fell asleep. either way, this was a mess. and messes are good. they taste like salt and regret.


p.s. if you come back, tell the octopuses i said hello. nice.

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