Never gonna be a country girl

It has taken me months to get used to the aesthetic hardships of Olanchito: little variety in food or drink at restaurants or supermarkets, even less in the way of cultural activities or night entertainment, and only the occasional conversation that reaches beyond the mundane. But still, I have been getting comfortable with it by appreciating the good things: the warmth of the people who live there, the humid coolness of the fog creeping out of the city and into the mountains every morning, the predictable over-saltiness of the baleadas at my favorite diner Deli Junior's. But now after another three days in Tegucigalpa (here for vaccination updates), the big city is already feeling like home again. I have been eating eggplant-mozzarella sandwiches and real chocolate cake. Brazilian bossa nova and African pop music play in the restaurants. I bought a bottle of my favorite American whiskey and even found and bought a bottle of Campari (obsession fulfilled). I have bought a fake (plastic) black leather jacket for $11 and fake (plastic) diamond earrings for $1.50 and everyone is calling me guapa. The taxi drivers are young and cute and all go to university and might even be over the age of 20. Why do I have to leave tomorrow?