Many boats here have got caretakers who come chamois off the rain, wax and polish, etc… EVERY day (then there are other boats that have been abandoned to their slip for who knows how long, thick with mold, docking lines nearly chafed thru, fenders flat…please may i never do that to Akimbo). Hector is the caretaker for the boat across the dock from us: a 45ish SeaRay that is 9 years old but looks like new. Being neighbors, we’ve struck up an acquaintance. I like that he barely speaks English and so helps me with my Spanish. He introduced me to a local specialty when we went to Zihua for lunch: tiritas – a raw white fish with rice and red onion that one can spice to taste, eaten with tortilla chips used like spoons. Yum!
Other people include Tomas, Gregorio, and Alejandro - waiters at a restaurant where i usually get my internet access (and watched the world cup). And Oscar, the owner of the restaurant. Elsa, Erika, and Rosilla in the marina office have been patient and helpful. Bernie, one of the dockhands, always says hi. Israel is another dockhand, small guy with a big swagger, drives the panga out to the channel when i want to sound it with a lead line. There is the lady who keeps the bathrooms and showers clean, i’ve forgotten her name now. Orlando is a captain for the yachts a big hotel owns. These have become ‘my’ local community while i am here. From what i have shared with them, they tell me that i found the best bakery in town. But of course!
Random thoughts: I took the bicycle path thru a nature preserve and discovered the locals’ beach (Playa Linda) – not the gringo beach by the big hotels. That was fun. On the gringo beach you can lay on a massage table under a canopy and get an hour rub for $20. Might have to try that out. It’s curious to me that even laughter comes with an accent. I heard a woman laugh and knew that when she spoke i would hear an American. Sure enuf.
I’ve been writing some, and reading more. Some really very good books – “Night Train to Lisbon” by Pascal Mercier (incredibly crafted) and “Bel Canto” by Ann Patchett (she writes so perfectly simply…or simply perfectly). These things take me almost out of my body. I feel the world around me as if it is less real than the stories. I forget to eat. Stepping away from reading or writing and back into my surroundings is like stepping out of a theatre after a movie. I have to blink a few times, take a deep breath and re-orient. Where am i? (could be anywhere) Who am i? (could be anyone) What time is it? What year is this? Sometimes reality rushes back in with an impact. Sometimes it slips its fingers gently back between mine and we walk. This time? It will probably soak me when i get back out in it.
Night before last a big storm came thru. Not having seen one for a while, i am duly humbled. Maybe i feel especially vulnerable after weathering a wave of homesickness when my package “from home” arrived. The port captain has closed the harbors until things calm down. No boats in or out yesterday and today. This is why i planned to get out of here two weeks ago…but the fridge broke down. Weather windows may be harder to find now. So be it. Sure, the package took too long to get here, but it was MY decision to wait for it. Now i’m trying to get the mechanic here. A piano teacher once said, “It doesn’t matter what note you play so much as what note you play next.” Sounds like a good metaphor to me. What’s done is done, it’s history. Whether being so stubborn about this repair was a wrong note depends on what decisions i make next. Sailing safely is my moving target. I’ll be relieved when we get to Costa Rica. But first, Huatulco for our exit papers. I’ll treat Acapulco as an option – sail past if the sailing is going smoothly, or pull in if i need to regroup.
1 comment:
Sounds like a lovely place to be stuck my dear. When you say "we" is that you and the boat? or is there someone else on there with you? I love the image of reality walking hand in hand with you through the hot streets of Mexico.
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