I just got this message:
A French canadian guy came across a guestbook entry at a certain hostel in valpo. He was astounded that the entry happened to be yours, as he had bumped into you in cusco and el chantel.
He then proceeded to tell us about your numerous bodily complications.. followed by the statement.. yeah Roosh is a funny guy.
We werent really listening to him up until the word Roosh was shouted across the hostel breakfast table. Turns out youre quite the backpacker celebrity! Luckily we were able to experience cosmonova without actually going there through your detailed recount.
I met a few Australian girls in Buenos Aires.
I met a guy in Cusco, Peru who is French Canadian. Two months later, I randomly bump into him again in Patagonia, about a thousand miles away.
In Valparaiso, after Peru but before Argentina, I stayed at a hostel that had a guestbook. After a horrible night out I put in a lot of care writing a warning to fellow travellers about a certain club. I signed it with just “Roosh.”
Both the girls and the guy went to Valparaiso at the same hostel at the same time and discovered that they both knew me through this guestbook entry, which I paste for you here (I drafted it on my laptop):
My opinion of Valparaiso will be shaped by what happened to me on Wednesday, October 24, 2007. I went to the club strip off the water and landed in a club called Cosmonova. The main bar only had a dozen people, so I explored and found a room guarded by a stocky bouncer. Inside was a semi-circle of guys sitting quietly in chairs, waiting for something. I thought this was the gay part of the club but there was another room nearby that only had girls. I asked the bartender what was going on but with her Chilean spanish she might as well have been talking in Portuguese.
A local overheard my confusion and escorted me back into the room of men. In the middle of the semi-circle was an overweight chilean woman, wearing only sunglasses. And I mean only sunglasses. Men hooted and hollered as they filmed her with their cell phone cameras. “Very sexy?” the local asked me, in a tone like he was trying to convince me how great his country is for having this spectacle. I nodded yes but it was as sexy as watching a hot dog eating competition. I went back to the bar.
The show ended 15 minutes later. I know this because an avalanche of men frantically searching for a meal poured into the bar. Many went hungry as there was only one girl for every three of them. I use the word “girl” loosely: many were over 30, the type who gets a kick out of watching a shaved, eyebrow plucked man wave his manhood while wearing nothing but a pair of sneakers.
I think it’s time to go back to Argentina.
South America is a big continent. Even with Lonely Planet, the odds of this happening is incredibly small. It made my day.
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