DAY 41: Birgit and I were so used to the early morning wake-ups on the ship that we were both lying in bed awake at 6:30. Birgit had developed a fever, so I lent her some of my medicine. La Gripe was back.

MID-MORNING CAME AROUND and I hung out with Sonya in the backyard to do a handwash. While my conversion pants and underwear dried out, I got my disposable underwater camera film developed and wandered the souvenir shops while waiting around. A popular t-shirt was the "I Love Boobies" shirt (picture above), which of course, made me snicker like a fourth grader.

Afterwards, I locked myself in my room with my computer to catch up with my blog entries, flicking little bed bugs away from around me. (Hope you appreciate it.)

Navid came to visit -- he was staying back at a nicer hotel -- and grabbed me for a final dinner in Puerto Ayora. Surprisingly, most of the businesses on the main street were boarded on that fine Saturday night, with signs on them stating that they had been shut down for a week as a penalty for tax evasion. If I had a business in town, I probably would have done the same thing -- why pay taxes when you can just shut down for a week during the low season?

We managed to find a place with burgers, fries and fancy beers and finished off with ice cream treats. Then, determined to catch up, I went back to my room to be a computer nerd again. Birgit was passed out sick on the bed.

AROUND 10:30 I WENT OUT TO UPLOAD my stories and pictures (for all you BlogFans out there). After that I was pretty tired and was going to call it a night, but I ran into James the Kiwi and Steve and Gwen the Scots at Limon y Cafe. The place was packed with locals, dancing and drinking to the salsa music, and I decided to put my notebook down on the table and sit in for a while. Midnight came, marking Gwen's birthday, and we toasted another round in her honor.

The night continued into early morning, and it was then I met an English girl who was at the bar alone having sporadic conversations with local guys. I invited her over to the table and she told us how she had been an English teacher on the island for quite some time. In fact, she left Wales fourteen years ago at the age of 18 to go work and travel and hadn't gone home since. She actually worked for food and board at the ultra luxurious -- and very secluded -- Royal Palm Millenium resort in the highlands, and was in town for her occasional night on the town.

The bar closed around 2 a.m., after of which everyone -- including Jorge and Gustavo -- went across the street to Panga, the after hours discotech club. James and the Scots called it a night, but I continued my last night in the Galapagos with the British girl, still with my notebook in hand. The club was full of locals, including Mauricio and his girlfriend, who I discovered, owns the Free Enterprise.

The British girl introduced me to some of the locals she worked with who were all pouring her beers. One of them eventually got her on the dance floor until she got tired of him. Then she pulled me on to do a little salsa dancing. The other guy started getting jealous and held her hand as the music winded down so the place could close. She kept secrets from him by talking to me in English, a nice change from people speaking Spanish to keep secrets from me.

"Look at this guy, he thinks he's going to take me home," she said. Landing a gringa is sort of a trophy to the locals and he wouldn't let go. "I'm trashed. I'm gonna brush this guy off. Would you like to come up to the resort with me tonight?"

This of course triggered two possible answers in my mind: yes and yes. (What can I say? I love boobies.)

She reverted to her fluent Spanish and told the guy sternly but politely she had to go, and took me outside to hail a taxi -- which on the island is actually a pickup truck. She negotiated a cheap fare in her drunken stupor and got us a ride through the wee hours to the Royal Palm resort, a far 20 km away in the secluded highlands. It was about 4:30 when we arrived there. She flashed her badge at the security gate, and the driver drove us the additional 2 km to the actual resort, situated in the middle of nowhere. She took me to her private villa with its fireplace and jacuzzi, amongst other luxurious amenities, where I spent the night.

Regardless of getting much sleep, it wasn't a bad way to spend a final night in the Galapagos at all...and I didn't even have to inflate my scrotum either.