Petatlan, Mexico.
Hanging out late. George and a very affectionate, drunk and loud Nicole – creatures I met on the dolphin swim). The name gets me to thinking too much and I’m already writing something. George had a little adventure on the side of the boat, climbing from balcony to balcony after Nicole passed out with both their keys in their stateroom. She’s beautiful and young, he’s older and stoic and I can’t imagine that the fascination with his money and the huge diamond ring on her finger will last forever. He gets very agitated about her fascination with me and my guitar.
I’ve spent a lot of time on these excursions with very sarcastic, jaded people. “How do you enjoy a cruise to Mexico?” “Lower your expectations.”
Fuckers, go home and leave more space on the boat for people who enjoy it. It makes me think aging with grace. Some people bother, others don’t. I worry about growing and not being able to adapt, and just getting bitter and angry like my father. I dont’ want to die that way.
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Manana attitude
highways look the same everywhere
Catholocism is a BAD combination with a poor economy
LIZARD
….
2 LIZARDS!!!!
tires used as building blocks
I’m tempted to eat, and things smell very, very good. It’s easy enough to wait until the food is free, back on the boat, and we keep getting warned about the food – but this smeellllssss soooo good. A fellow traveller’s energetic bathroom emissions for the past two days though, they sort of make me hesitate.
I always seem to make friends with the “one-uppers” who seem to have something to prove. That’s on the boat, that’s in Life, that’s everywhere. I think of it as a gamer trait, but it’s a lot broader. They have something they want to get off their chest, some discussion or fight they want to pick. Perhaps the people like that are just the ones that want to talk about themselves the most and therefore more interested in talking in general. I’m alone and quiet, and an easy target perhaps.
I wonder what a Mexican woman would think of America – being here explains a LOT about Langley Park.
It was interesting to see the church of Petatlan – a working church. The other two that we’ve seen so far, though they were certainly use, but they were populated by tourists as much as any less secular creature. The Cathedral at Petatlan, you could sense the reverence – ironically the least spectacularly decorated (though still with that affection for Christmas lights and blue neon) – but it’s the holiest in attitude. I watch people cross themselves as they pass every entrance. I admire that faith, even if I can’t share it.
There’s a man on this trip, his wife seems a little embarrassed by his cynicism, moreso than she is even of his constant puns. He speaks the language fluently and has stories and jokes to tell in both languages. He’s the most vocal detractor of the cruise at the moment, and he drops this one – the only thing he’s found worthwhile so far was a cactus garden at our first port (Cabo San Lucas, I think). He talks about how it’s the only thing he’s seen in this country not ruined by the trash and the neglect that’s so prevalent. He compares it to “a perfect child – a 3 to 5 year-old girl that will probably grow up to be a prostitute, but right now… they have perfect hands and perfect feet… they are perfect”.
Interesting. I bet there’s one Hell of a history behind THAT comparison.
