OR, OH DEAR A LOT OF BBQ MEAT AND TEQUILA.
Before the flood was the party.
As all revellers know there’s no such thing as a free party. The trickle of people and a bunch of kids belied the mayhem that ensued. A few bright plastic toys strewn across the sand in the hotel central walkway and a lot of tiny tots and parents. Then cars arrived and huge cases of beer, bottles of tequila, coolers of huge sections of different meats, shellfish and cakes.
A whir of activity and much beer slurping by the men as they emptied the carcasses on the bloody table to butcher the meat. And in the tiny kitchen the coals were being lit for the Neanderthal feast. As my stomach lurched and I queasily smiled and joked and joined in, the blood pooling on the table kept distracting me. I eat meat but had gone semi vegetarian while in London so already feel guilty about the partaking of meaty mouthful.
All this was in honour of a young ladies birthday but frankly they could have been celebrating anything at all, like just being alive for example, for the Mexicans do love a fiesta. At this time it should be happening all over to cock a snoot at the powers that be taking away liberties and this type of social gathering. They laughed chattered, sang, they played loud music, they interfered in the cooking of the meat, much like men all over the world and above all they were happy and made us all happy.
Thank you for a keyhole peep into a Mexican family celebration you lovely people.
The next day they went fishing and smugly brought back their catch and cooked that too on the BBQ fire. Now whether they had really caught them or brought them in one of those cooler boxes it matters not, the captain vouched for them and the fish was delicious. I sat at my little table in my room with Sonia and we ate with our fingers the moist tender scrumptious fish and guacamole. Then slowly the evaporated into their various cars and the hotel was suddenly totally empty and swimming dog eyed me, I knew my orders and off we went for a swim. She needed it after all she had scrounged and scoffed and besides the bad weather was coming in again.
This all preceded the huge storm that came in, and when I compare shots of early PA to the last few days it’s like chalk and cheese. At the beginning white sands and aquamarine pristine water, bright blue skies and the last days murky water, Sargasso and grey ominous clods discharging their load from time to time. The atmosphere changed too. The villagers changed too. All were grumpy and no tourists visited, except of course, the die-hard Permit fish anglers.
Old Bird Travels Solo! 