On what time you came home last night or early this morning…
Here’s some examples-
27 year old bicycle horns honking incessantly as a vendor strolling or pedaling some sort of rusted out 2, perhaps, 3 wheeled contraption selling anything from “Queso!” to “Cacahuates!” to anything else that will bring in a few pesos.
Then, the redundant, but melodical radio announcers voice shreaking over a beat up loudspeaker mounted on top of the “Agua! Agua! Agua!” cart.
Each of these brings some initial confusion, as they begin in the distance, then become increasingly louder with each step or rotation of the sprocket until they stop right in front of your building, until they fade away as they continue their morning journey.
Finally, old reliable…92 roosters all over the neighborhood competing for first up.
It’s slightly cloudy over the Caribbean this morning, and I’m going to take my chances on Playa Norte for a beach day…hey, my skinny, white ass has been sunburned on cloudy days as well, so, what the hell…
My landlord is a totally rad guy…generations of his family live on Isla…his nickname is “Beto”.
After sharing some stories, I hop on the cruiser to leave mid-island and head through town. I’ll make a quick stop and visit my friend Sid Morris to say hello…
Here are a couple of pics of Isla I’ve never before seen. I’m never here this late in the year, so I’m catching a little of the hurricane season. But, what I’ve noticed, and quickly adapted to is that, rain is part of the lifestyle on Isla and no matter who it is, or what they’re commuting on, or how they’re dressed, they press on as if it was a beautiful, bright day. After all, they realize they, live in paradise.
After a few hours practicing being a bum, I’m hungry, and since there was no talent on the beach to occupy my time, it’s off to engage in a lunchtime feast…I saw my amigo Polo yesterday on my run, and told him I would stop by and eat today, so I chose his wildly popular, Mango Café.
His menu is simple, Caribbean/Mexican infused, and always fresh. You can tell freshness and uniqueness; all one needs to do is look at the faces of the diners when their choice is delivered and tasted, so, order it all over the course of your visit. Here’s mine…
Polo’s a young guy, newlywed, new father, who is dialed and gets it. He realizes where he is and sells THAT to the visitor. Rain or shine, his beaming bright smile warms the entire room making all who enter feel the warmth that is Isla.
His location is across the street from one of the islands most beautiful churches I have ever seen…and that church rests on a plot of tierra overlooking the Caribbean sea…if that doesn’t coax you to a Sunday mass or two, then you’ll prolly never attend…prolly.
It’s 3:00 in the afternoon and by the quietness, it must be siesta time. The wind has brought in a strong rain and I mount my cruiser to take a leisurely roll along the highway I affectionately refer to as, “PCH”. (For my non-West Coasties, that stands for Pacific Coast Highway) It’s a short ride but I’m sitting straight up all the while being covered by God’s tears… He knows I need them.
Once the day ends, if I’m very lucky, my GPS will text about what we should do when night falls over Isla on this Friday.
For now, I’ll throw the iPod on the Bose and let Old Blue Eyes lull me into a well-deserved siesta while I smile at the sounds of laughter coming from one window and the crashing waves from the other…yes, this is paradise.