August 21: Inimitable Evening

After spending approximately an hour writing a letter to Eileen and "looking at the internet," Erick came and he and Yadira and I went to Coatza. Yadira is his girlfriend, whose name I have finally learned. Again, Coatza is like Traverse City, and there is a very long beach and a side walk and highway that run parallel to it, and two long piers with lighthouses on the end. We parked the car at the entrance of on of the piers and Erick and I put on rollerblades. Mine were too small for me, though they are the biggest size available in Mexico.

The pier was full of people walking for exercise and romance and sun. We were both uncomfortable on rollerblades at first, and went rather slow, so Yadira could walk along with us. Then we started going ahead and coming back, making circles. On the way out, the dock is to the right and the mountains are to the left. I spotted a black cat on the rocks surrounding the pier, but he disappeared before Erick and Yadira saw him. This cat knows not what he do. The rocks are reserved for fisherman.

I arrived to the end of the pier first, and the impression standing in the shadow of the lighthouse, looking at its looming figure without discomfort whilst the entire pier is drenched in sunlight was strong. When Erick and Yadira arrived to the end of the pier with me, we sat up on the fence looking north. We watched dolphins leap from the water while a fleet of green plant boats heaved up anchor and floated for the arms of the ocean mother. At this moment, I had a vivid experience of the specious present, the impossibly fleeting and intangible passing of time. I understood at that moment all the poetic imagery one hears describing the ocean as infinite, as eternal, as the mythic mother. I wanted to live on the ocean for the rest of my life. For a fleeting moment it seemed as though there were nothing else in the world but me and the ocean. Then I looked up to the sky, to the vast, vast stretch of the clouds from the sunset stage of the mountains out over the ocean. I had a thought that mountains become cloud mountains when they die and look out over living mountains from above.

We left the dolphins to their play and headed back while the sun set. About halfway back, I saw a fairly big black bug fly just over my head, and tried to follow it into the sky. I lost it after giving a good chase. We found the black cat about halfway back. He was tiny, a teenage cat trying to make it on his own in a pile of trash-laden rocks. He had speckles of coffee all over and a big patch on the left side of his chest. He came and laid down on the edge of the walkway and we watched him from the rail. After a while, he stalked a grasshopper and poked at some trash and came to lay down closer to me. I said "Adios, gatito," when we left and secretly skated back to see him while making circles. He pounced on a skitterbug once, but lost him.

We took off our skates and socks and drank the milk of fresh coconuts while watching the sun set over the mountains and the kids play on the beach. There were two small tents set up on the beach, lots of fishermen on the rocks, and a spearfisherman who had no luck. The coconuts come from a line of vendors surrounding the mouth of the pier who have refrigerated comparments with whole coconuts floating in icy water. They take the coconuts and hack off a side with a machete and stick a straw in. I think this may sound very romantic, but I wasn't in love with the taste of coconut milk. It is fairly bland, and the main benefit was the cold and wet. After you're done, you take the coconut back to the man and he chops at it with the machete again for a while, until he halves it and then peels out the meat and puts it in a cup. You then put lime and chili powder and salsa on the pieces and eat them. None of this tasted anything like coconut.

We went back to Mina, to my YEO's house, for the Rotary meeting. The German and French girls were both there, the French girl having just arrived that afternoon. The German is named Marlene and is from Stuttgart, and the French is named Claire and comes from someplace South maybe. I learned how to play Roullette in preparation for Casino Night, along with a Doctor Nelson. We are going to run the game at the Casino Night Rotary fundraiser Saturday. Gambling is illegal in Mexico, so the only places people can go to do it are these events, where you buy fake money and play with it for prizes, and the real money is used for Rotary projects.

After learning the game, the kids went for dinner. We walked down the dirty streets under yellow phosphorescent lightposts and distant thunder. Gangs of dogs passed by as we talked in broken spanish of school and home and exchange programs. There were quite a few of us, me and Erick and the other two exchange students, Claire and Marlene, and then my YEO's daughter Karina, who wants to go on exchange to Japan, another girl I don't know, and later a rebound from Germany, Juan. The girl I don't know kept asking all of us if we drank and smoked, as per Rotary custom, apparently. Later Juan was asking us the same questions, promising to take us dancing and extolling the virtues of tequilla.

Eating vegetarian here is harder than in the US, but not impossible, and still very delicious. I eat a lot of cheese and plantains and fruit. This night I ate cheese empanadas. Whoever said that Mexican food wasn't actually spicy, and that Mexicans actually question Americans as to why they put so many seasonings in their food was completely wrong regarding where I live. Food is spicy and very flavorful. We ate chili peppers filled with cheese yesterday and put jabaneros in our soup this afternoon.

Love,
Adam