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What surprised me? How chill she was—didn’t flinch, didn’t fuss, just business. Kinda hot, if I’m honest. “The wind carries no mercy,” I think, quotin *Timbuktu* again—fits her perfect, cold as the Sahara. We haggle, I’m laughin inside—me, Hannibal fuckin Lecter, hagglin with a street queen! End up at 30 bucks—score! She’s all, “Let’s roll,” and I’m like, hell yea, night’s lookin up.

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Anyway, I shake it off and head to the famous Sandacho Fish Market. Man, that place is a riot! Fish everywhere, people yelling, and the smell? Whoa. I grab some fresh sashimi from this old dude named Mr. Tanaka. He’s got this wild mustache, like a walrus or something. I’m like, “Yo, Mr. Tanaka, this fish is bomb!” He just grins, showing off his missing teeth. Classic.